I remember tears streaming down your face
When I said, "I'll never let you go"

Safe and Sound - Taylor Swift

The second time they meet each other, it was on an assassination mission.

A nuclear scientist being escorted to a remote location. One bodyguard. Black Widow. Highly renowned kill count. Proceed with caution. He'd acted as backup once more.

It was supposed to be simple.

The target's car had been railroaded, the wreckage sent over a cliff and into the deep ravines below. They should have been dead.

But the Widow was much more skilled than they had anticipated her to be. She lay crouched over the scientist's frightened body, her hair a curtain of blood against the red break lights of their vehicle. The Winter soldier stepped out, raising his rifle.

She stood up, pushing the man behind her as she raised her pistol in retaliation. But he wasn't fooled.

A single shot rang out, tearing through blood and flesh and finding it's mark in the man's chest. Target terminated. The widow collapsed with a cry, almost unheeding of the body behind her as she grasped at her side, blood flowing over her fingers.

The Soldier turned, and walked back to the vehicle calmly. She was inconsequential to their mission now.

He waited for the fellow warrior's silent nod, before shifting the car into gear once more, racing forward and away from the dying figure behind them. Mission Accomplished.

Suddenly, the vehicle exploded in flame, cries tearing from their lips as the car swerved, before he managed to grasp the man's silver arm, magic leaping from his flesh and tearing open the door, sending them tumbling out onto the road. He fell, the world spinning as dark asphalt beat against his skin (or himself against it?) sending him tumbling, losing his grip on the other in the process.

Suddenly, there was no ground, and he reached out blindly, managing to grasp something before his body slammed into solid rock. He cried out, his metal implant jarring against his skull. He gasped in pain, forcing his eyes open.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing below him, but the rushing river and jagged rocks below

Long black hair whipped against his face, and he tried to focus on the present. The car exploded. The woman must have thrown a bomb at their car in vengeance, and nearly killed them. His hand was grasping some kind of loose root jutting out from the side of the cliff face. He stared at the abyss below him, sensing the flimsy plant that held his existence slowly begin to grow weak at its foundations, his body slowly sinking towards the inevitable fall.

Pull up, He thought, his body locked in fear, Pull up damn you.

No, Lo-

He seized, a startled cry escaping him as pain racked through his body. His fingers slipped, grasping at air-

A silver hand clamped down on his wrist.

Blue eyes met his shocked green, passing along the silent message. Don't let go.

He nodded silently, too stunned to do anything else.

There was a muted whir of gears, and then he was being heaved upwards with a grunt, up and onto the road, where their car lay in a burned wreck.

A piece of torn metal hung off of the Winter Soldier's arm, exposing the complex wires within. The Soldier himself looked less than pleased.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the oncoming headache that was sure to come. "We must get to the drop off." He murmured, his voice rough from disuse.

The soldier nodded, already turning back towards the wreckage of the car. Ignoring the flames that licked over his metal hand, he reached into the fallen car, ripping the GPS from the driver's seat before tossing it towards his partner. "Let's go." He said stiffly, turning towards the desert.

It was nighttime when they arrived at the drop off point. They had walked for hours, missing the pick up time their handler has assigned to them. What would happen when their handlers found them went without saying.

He had made a fire, wordlessly waving his hand at the bundle of sticks, the spark of magic catching on the dried twigs and turning into a steady flame. They had sat silently as they waited, the temperature dropping steadily as the sun faded away.

The soft clicks and whirring of exposed gears floated around them, mingling with the crackling of the fire as the blue eyed warrior attempted to fix what little he could of his metal arm. He seemed unbothered by the cold, only pausing to wipe sweat away from his brow as he struggled to fix the machine attached to him single handedly.

He himself, however, felt differently. He didn't dare look at his hands, steadily turning a cerulean blue at his fingertips in the firelight. Whenever his hands turned like this, there were memories. And memories were unpleasant. He held out his hand to the flame, letting out a soft sigh as the heat washed away the cold, leaving his fingers pale and normal once more.

"What was that?"

He started, whipping around to look at the soldier. His ally didn't look up, fingers poking under the silver skin and feeling around the gears within as he worked.

"Pardon?"

"Before, on the cliff…" he began, his voice soft and thoughtful. "What was that?"

He paused, green eyes blinking in surprise. "I…assumed that you knew…"

"Knew what?" The man asked, glancing up at him as he clicked a few more gears back into place.

Jade irises flickered, unsure.

"The…neuro inhibitors…" he began softly. "I… my memories are…unpleasant." he confessed, glancing away into the distance, listening hopefully for the sound of quinjet engines.

His partner fell quiet, thinking most likely, before studiously going back to fixing his prosthetic arm.

They fell back into a comfortable silence, neither needing words to tell what the other was feeling.

There was a faint curse as the assassin cut his hand, pressing his red thumb against his lips, small red droplets staining the offending piece of torn metal that caused it.

"Here, let me." he sighed, reaching over to his partner. The man stiffened slightly, but didn't retreat, only watching the other man warily as he fiddled with his arm.

With a small grunt, pale hands twisted the metal, breaking it off with a clean snap. Gently rubbing a thumb along the broken edge, he nodded approvingly.

"There." he said, leaning back. "You'll be able to work more easily until they arrive."

Glancing over his work, the Winter Soldier nodded his thanks, glancing at the piece of broken silver clutched in Loki's hand.

"Do you plan on keeping it?" he asked, dark blue eyes inquisitive.

"Perhaps…" he replied, lifting up to the flickering light of the fire to examine it. It was a fine piece indeed, though he had seen better in-

A violent shiver wracked his spine, and his heart have a painful squeeze in his chest. The man was silent, watching him shiver in agonizing pain only to gather himself once more wordlessly. Like a child seeing suffering but not understanding it's depth or hurt.

The silence grew tense this time, one unwilling to look weak and the other unwilling to look away. He inhaled deeply through his nose, ignoring the aching throb that follows each trespass. The flames begin to putter, the kindling they had managed to find in the forest still damp from recent rainfall.

Staring at the dying light he sighed, before extending his left leg. Reaching down and into his boot, he withdrew one of the standard daggers he had stowed in there. He had carried the knife ever since he could remember, staring at the little L carved onto the handle as if it somehow held the secrets to his existence. For all he knew, it did. But… it didn't seem right to leave the man without something in recompense…

He turned the blade over in his hand, offering the handle to his partner. "Here."

The man looked down in confusion, looking at the blade uncomprehendingly.

"Take it." he said, ducking his head to remain in eye contact. "I want you to keep it."

Slowly, the soldier obeyed, taking the knife from his hand. He stared at it, his eyes falling onto the carving. He looked up at him once more, blue eyes confused.

"Keep it." he emphasized. He laid a hand over the other man's fingers, closing them around the handle firmly.

The man slowly nodded, taking the blade and placing it into one of his sheaths.

Suddenly, lights burst into existence overhead, and their hands flew over their eyes.

It appeared their retribution had come…

He woke to ragged breaths, sweat dripping down sallow skin, and a vicious pounding inside of his skull. The machine retreated, sparks flickering out as awareness filtered back in.

"…..Subject 824 is awake Sir."

"Good."

A hand reached out and grasped his chin, gently guiding him to focus on a pair of cold blue eyes. "What do you remember?" the man asked, the bright lights above them reflecting off of the man's glasses and into his eyes.

He squinted, his eyes watering against the sting. He tried to think, to recall-

And grit his teeth against the pain, a muffled grunt escaping his lips as he clung to his seat.

"That's what I wanted to hear." the man said softly, releasing him. "Alright soldier. You're relieved of your duties for the time being. Get dressed." turning to the nearby man in the white coat (had he always been there?) he nodded. "As you were."

It was a blur how he got back to his room. A few escorts in black, as well as a few guns in his back, before the door was all but slammed shut behind him. He slowly shuffled over to his bed, tossing the clothes onto his bed. He released a sigh, pulling off his black leather armor and tossing the shirt to the floor.

Only, there was a metal clunk where only a soft thump should have been. He turned, staring at the pile. Slowly, he knelt down, gingerly lifting the leather.

A shining piece of metal met his gaze, a broken piece of silver that had been twisted round to make a ring, and hung from a thin black cord. Blinking at the sight, he turned the metal ring over in his hands, examining it. The metal was silver in color, foreign-make to his fingertips as he brushed his thumb along its surface. It's edges were ragged, and torn, as if it had been shorn from a clean slate, leaving it raw and crude looking. A broken piece of metal that wasn't even remotely attractive or bore precious gems. It was worthless, he knew that.

But just as his hand lifted to toss the offending piece of jewelry into the metal trash bin, he paused, his hand stilling. A faint tingle at the back of his mind, a wordless whisper murmuring against his senses. He lowered it, green eyes tracing the edges of the ring, a sense of familiarity settling against his fingertips as he gazed. He…shouldn't throw this away… Perhaps, it has meaning to something or someone. Perhaps he should keep it…just in case…

He lifted the cord, slipping it over his head to settle the ring against his chest.

Yes… he would keep this…

Just in case…