WARNING: VIOLENCE, POTENTIAL TRIGGERS

They were moving through the woods like a couple of two legged gazelle, Nat thought as she watched the thermal camera tracing the two men below. It was kind of amazing actually. The jet's sensors had picked up the explosion and they'd followed their heat signatures into the woods. The trees made it difficult and she kept losing them but Barton wasn't called Hawkeye for nothing.

"Would you look at that?" he marveled as the two men jumped a thirty foot ravine and didn't even slow. "Man, they are closely matched. This could go on for awhile."

Sam stepped up to the cockpit, "Anything we can do to fix the race?"

"Guys we got a problem," Nat pointed to another sensor.

"What is that?" Sam queried.

"That is a military plane and it's headed right towards us." They all looked at each other. "We can't stay here." she flicked a couple of switches. "Steve, we have a bogie coming at us. Won't be able to point you in the right direction."

"10/4," was their only response.

Nat pulled up yet another display. Barton stood behind her and pointed, "There."

"Hey Steve, how about we slow him down for you before we go? You've got a narrow clearing coming up. It's enough room for me to get off a safe shot. Say at the half way point? Be our only chance."

"You saying, you don't think I can catch him," came the only slightly out of breath reply.

"Well, you are the elder," Nat quipped. "Wouldn't want you to stroke out down there."

"Just do it and clear out."

"Good luck." Natasha pulled the jet into a turn. "And Steve, I know how much you want this but be careful. He's not who you remember." She threw a couple of switches then watched a set of red cross hairs align. She hit a button. "Delivered." The plane turned away.

o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o

Asset Seventeen could hear the American still close on his tail. This was getting tiresome in more ways than one. How long could they keep this up, he wondered. From what he knew of his enhanced metabolism, it would come down to which of them was better fed and rested than the other. Hydra had often starved him to weaken his strength and slow his speed. It worked to a degree. He suspected it would be his opponent that had the upper hand. While he wasn't starving, he hadn't exactly been eating regularly either. He needed to do something else.

There were two crossed trees coming up. Instead of going around them, he pitched headlong through them and grabbed a bough as he went by, snapping it back hard. It wouldn't hurt the soldier but…

"Damn it, Bucky!"

He smiled. He wasn't even sure why. This was all vaguely familiar. And that disturbed him. "Wait up, Buck! Don't run so fast." Laughter. "I don't feel so good." Coughing. "You go to sleep, Stevie. Things will be better tomorrow."

With his concentration split, the Winter Soldier was nearly half way into the open before he realized he'd put himself in a vulnerable position. The Captain had said there was a jet. Son of a bitch. He heard the tell tale whine of a missile as it arced towards him. This was what he got for breaking protocols, for wanting to be something other than what he was, for wanting a damn cup of hot chocolate. Still. The smile returned. There were far worse ways he could go. He knew most of them intimately. At least this would be quick.

The missile struck about a hundred yards in front of him. Gouging a hole in the earth and throwing a mound of debris in his face. Covered in dirt, he couldn't see so the Asset just jumped and hoped that he cleared whatever crater the impact had made. He came down less than gracefully but he had managed to put himself in the clear. He quickly turned, expecting the American to have caught up but he could see no one through the dust cloud. You made your own luck and he wasn't about to question it. The Winter Soldier fled.

o-x-o-xo-ox-ox-ox-ox

"No, no, no! This isn't happening!" Steve stood up and grasped the tree limb that was protruding from his calf. The missile had landed perfectly. He was within grabbing distance of his quarry when a piece of shrapnel nailed him. There weren't even any trees! It was a clearing for Pete's sake! He limped forward to find a place to sit down so he could take care of it.

He'd seen Bucky's reckless jump. He could have been seriously hurt… or he could have killed some innocent civilian back at the café. He'd meant to kill Barton. And it would be his fault not Bucky's. But what choice did he have? Bucky had done horrible things and most people wouldn't see beyond that. It hadn't been his fault but he would be punished none the less. He needed help not punishment. He realized that at some point Bucky would have to come forward to face what he had done. To tell his side and ask for redemption but he couldn't even do that as he was currently. He would kill… or be killed. That was all he understood.

Every time he saw Bucky now, he wanted to grieve for his friend all over again. He took a deep breath and pulled. The branch came free none too gently and he groaned. He was hobbled and had no air support. His quarry was in the wind and there would likely be others following soon. And when their descriptions got out, Hydra would come for Bucky. Maybe Natasha was right.

Fade to Flashback...

"There's always a trigger. If we have it then we have control. Rumlow would know where to look. "

"I know you're not suggesting that I go to Rumlow so that I can learn how to be Bucky's puppetmaster. Because you, of all people, know how despicable that would be."

"It's better your leash than Hydra's."

"Ok, you know what, we're done."

"Steve, I know how it must sound but we have an unstable super assassin on the loose and the longer he's out there the more likely he is to rack up casualties."

"There's hasn't been anyone but Hydra. I think that speaks to his state of mind. If they want to turn themselves in, I'll guarantee them protection against Bucky but if not… my sympathy for them isn't really high right now."

"So you're ok with him killing thirty seven Hydra agents in the time he's been on his own?

"They came after him and besides since when do you care about Hydra agents?"

"I don't. I care about you. And you care about him. He's still racking up a body count that he's going to have to deal with someday. Maybe it's not issue for him… or for you. Can't say as I blame him. But think about this, he didn't have a choice before but he does now and he's choosing to kill. How long do you think it will be before he gets a taste for it? He needs help now before that happens because once he decides he likes it, you'll never get him back."

It felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. That wouldn't happen. Bucky would never… but the Winter Soldier might. "I couldn't do that to him. I just…"

"You don't have to do anything. We proceed as we have been. All I'm saying is that we have the trigger just in case. A last resort kind of thing. That's all."

He stared at the floor, unable to meet her eyes and nodded.

o-x-o-x-o-x-ox-o-x

The former Strike Commander and Hydra officer sat in chains in the middle of a small white room. A mirrored one-way glass was the only feature besides the security camera. He was lucky to be alive though he didn't look it. His skin was mottled and puckered, courtesy of hot jet fuel from the carrier. It took them more than twenty hours to dig him free. It hadn't been a priority.

Steve, Natasha, and Clint stood looking through the one way glass. "How do we want to handle this?" Hawkeye queried. "Nat and I can…"

Steve's expression tightened. "No. Bucky is my responsibility. I'll do this. Hydra declared war then they took prisoners and tortured them. I won't torture anyone but I'm not above beating the crap out of one of them in this situation."

Rumlow turned at their entry, a slow smirk appearing on his mutilated face. "Well, well, look who's come to visit. It's Captain America himself." The bound man gave him a slow clap.

Nat and Clint took stations next to the door as Cap stepped forward. "I have a question and you're going to answer it."

"Is that right?" he responded smugly. Rumlow gestured as expansively as the chains would allow. "And what could Captain America want from me, I wonder."

"I want to know what Bucky's trigger is."

"Whoa, ho, ho. Did "your" Bucky misbehave? Run home like a good little pet monster?"

Steve smiled tightly, "Actually, no. But apparently someone thought it was a good idea to send a retrieval team for him. …Not so much. There wasn't much left by the time we got there. I don't think Bucky's interested in working for Hydra anymore."

Rumlow leaned back in his chair, "Huh. Well. It's not the first time that he's bit the hand that keeps him on a leash. Your friend is hard headed. You would think after the last time he was reeducated…," Rumlow inhaled sharply and cringed, "Yikes."

Steve clenched his hands. It was all he could do not to put his fist through the man's teeth.

Nat stepped forward and crossed her arms, "He asked you a question. I suggest you answer. Now. While you're still able."

A slow smile played on Rumlow's lips, "Did you know that he remembered you…briefly?"

Steve opened his mouth to repeat the question but his voice died in his throat. Oh, god.

Rumlow kept his eyes glued to him. "After that day on the bridge. He couldn't figure it out but he remembered your face from back in the old days. Said something about a train? You were trying to save him then too, apparently. Honestly, as many times as we've fried his brain, I'm surprised he can do anything more than drool on his shirt but you "super soldiers" are tough sons of a bitches… I'll give you that." Rumlow licked his scarred lips, "You want to know how he screams when we insert electrodes and…"

Steve hit him hard enough that he flew sideways off the chair and skidded across the floor. Steve was across the room in an instant. He grabbed Rumlow by the shirt front and heaved him to his feet one handed. "Let's try this again. The trigger. What is it and where is it?"

The bound man turned his head slightly and spat blood. "You think you're going to save him? Is that it? You have no idea what he's capable of, what he's done. What he's become…"

Steve pulled back his arm and let fly. Rumlow slammed back into the wall and crumbled. As he stepped forward, Nat took him by the arm and tugged. Not that she could stop him if he was determined but it was enough for him to turn and look at her. She made eye contact and held his gaze until he took a deep breath and nodded. She gave him a small smile and released his arm.

Rumlow still sat in a heap against the wall. He was breathing hard now, the arrogant smirk gone. "I'll tell you where to find the trigger and how to use it… I only wish I could be there to see your face when you learn the truth about your best buddy."

Steve stood over the Hydra agent, "I'm not interested in your commentary."

The bloodied man nodded, "You'll have to kill him, you know."

"The trigger!"

"Pierce's watch."

Ox-ox-ox-ox-ox-ox

Steve stood on the other side of the table with his arms crossed. He didn't trust himself, not with what Rumlow would be telling them. He already wanted to choke the life out of him. "Let's get this over with. Stick with the facts, Rumlow. You hear me? No commentary."

"What's the procedure?" Nat was poised with pen in hand. "And don't forget who you're talking to, I know conditioning so I'll know if you're lying."

Rumlow shook his head, "I have no reason to lie. It'll hurt you more to find him so I'll do what I can to help you out with that." He looked at Steve. "The watch is programmed with a series of tones in a certain sequence. That's *the stick*."

Clint frowned, "The stick?"

"Yeah, when he was conditioned, they set up the tones in conjunction with pain and fear. So you use the stick first. That disarms him mentally, emotionally, so you establish dominance even though you might never have actually caused him any harm."

Steve clenched his jaw so tight it cracked.

"Once he's disarmed then you use *the carrot.* It's the second pin there on the watch. Hold up the watch and push that pin. There'll be a sequence of light flashes and strobes. Then you state who you are and your intent. I'm Natasha Romanoff and I'm your Controller, like that."

"Why the carrot?" Clint asked.

"Clint…" Nat shook her head.

"Aww," Rumlow mouthed. "You don't want them to know about *the carrot*? But you know, don't you," he asked Nat. "Of course you do. Let me help you explain. Continuous punishment without reward isn't as effective a tool in conditioning, you see. You gotta pat the dog on the head every once in awhile."

Steve took a step forward.

Clint stood up, "Steve, maybe you and I should go get some coffee. Nat can finish this."

He shook his head. Clint looked at Nat. His expression saying this was not going to end well.

"Should I continue," Rumlow asked.

Nat looked over at the seething mass of super soldier. "I'd be cautious if I were you. Tread lightly."

"Let the tones run their sequence. When he reacts appropriately then you flash the strobes. He gets a reward. I mean, you don't have to actually give him anything anymore. He's responding to the lights." Rumlow shrugged, "Then you set your own parameters. Depending on who his controller was at the time, the punishments and rewards would be different. His reward might be something as simple as food or water or sleep. Or whatever they wanted it to be… same with the pain. There's a lot of different ways you can hurt someone." He looked right into Steve's eyes.

Steve flew across the table so fast that neither Clint nor Nat had a chance to raise a hand to stop him. He wrapped his hand around Rumlow's throat. "You're not even human," he bit out. "I've seen evil in my time but this sickness has to be the worst."

"I'm not the one that did this to him," Rumlow squeaked out.

"Hey Cap," Clint began, "This guy isn't worth getting your hands dirty on."

Rumlow squirmed in his grip, "Zola was the one that figured out how to break him. He was obsessed. Not just with the project but with your friend."

"Yeah, not a smart thing to say," Clint admonished. "You might want to shut the hell up."

Steve released Rumlow with a push and he fell back into his chair.

Nat turned to Steve, "I want you to go take a walk. Right now. We need to get this done and I won't continue with you here, like this. Go get your shit together."

Steve took one last look at Rumlow and headed for the door.

Rumlow looked at Natasha, "Was it something I said?"

She leaned over the table and punched him in the mouth.

Ox-ox-ox-ox-ox-ox

"Wow, this is more complicated than I thought," Clint commented.

"If it were easy, everyone would be doing it and then it wouldn't be cool anymore," Rumlow quipped.

"Man, shut the fuck up or I will kill you myself," Clint spat. "I have just about had enough of this asshole."

Nat closed her notebook, "You. Out too. Go find Steve and I'll finish this up and be out in a few."

Clint took a deep calming breath and nodded. "You're right. I'll see you in a few."

"Alright, finish it up, Rumlow. Is there anything else we need to know about the process?"

"Hm. Well, they knew that it would take more than one person to handle the Asset so they gave him a series of handlers and one controller. The controller had total access, total power. He could then assign handlers specific tasks and give them certain controls. That way they never had to worry about him falling into the wrong hands. They really got paranoid about SHIELD at one point. They thought someone found out who he was and were concerned about a rescue attempt. I don't know exactly. It was before my time."

"Huh. They certainly seemed to put a lot of value on him." There could only be a couple of reasons for that, neither good.

Rumlow chuckled. "If you only knew why."

She started gathering her things.

"You don't want to know why?"

"Oh, I thought you were going to be using that as some sort of ploy. Do you intend to actually tell me?"

"Like I said, the truth hurts." The man looked pleased with himself. "Zola kept a list of Barnes kills."

"Is that all you got? I've already seen the files."

He looked at her speculatively. "Then you know about Stark?"

"I know." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Do better."

He paused then nodded. "There were things that they didn't log. Things even Hydra didn't want to take credit for."

"Such as?"

He shrugged. "There's no proof, mind you. But Pierce told me that they had sent the Asset to Dallas… in '63."

Nat's eyes widened slightly. Oh, hell no.

"There were other assignments too. Off the books, so to speak."

"These other assignments… weren't logged anywhere?"

"Not to my knowledge, no. But there were other kinds of detailed files. Zola was a real freak. He kept detailed logs of everything he did. Everything. A lot of it is on video. He practically dissected the guy at one point, trying to figure out why he couldn't replicate the results. There's some brutal stuff…all in technicolor."

"I see." She nodded. "That it?"

"Yeah, that's about it."

Nat walked over to the one way glass and tapped on it.

Rumlow looked at her curiously. Then she picked up her notebook and pen. Nat stepped around the table and glanced up. The little red light on the camera went dark. She uncapped her pen…. and drove it into Rumlow's eye socket. He rocked back then pitched forward onto the table.

She walked out and closed the door behind her.