*Here's the next chapter. It took me a while to get it all written and then typed. No Bucky this chapter (only mentioned) but I promise he'll make an appearance sometime within the next few chapters. Definitely not the next chapter, but maybe Chapter Seven. On that note, enjoy this chapter! Thank you for choosing my story :)

And of course, I don't own the rights to Marvel or any of their characters.

Also, this chapter was supposed to be called Interrogations and Shaky Alliances but I had to shorten it.*

Shadowing a highly trained war veteran who happened to be a super soldier wasn't the best plan she ever had. To say it was a challenge would be the understatement of the century. Stalking targets had been part of her job description as an assassin. She had an aptitude for stealth and an uncanny sense of awareness. Her strikes had always been calculated and precise. When she finally moved in for the kill, she dispatched the targets and like smoke vanished without a trace. In other words, she was damn good at what she did. So just how in the hell had a six-foot tall, two-hundred-something pound man disappeared?

Several blocks away from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion, Rogers had hastily crossed the busy street and slipped off into an alley. Against her better judgement, Melanie had followed, only to see he had tossed his Captain America uniform into the dumpster. His shield, though, was likely still in his possession, unless he hid it somewhere. Well, now all I have to look for is a man running around in the nude, she had thought with a smirk. The alley cut across to another street, and Melanie thought she glimpsed a tall blonde-haired man merging with the crowd. She did her best to keep her eyes on him, unable to see his face and hoping she wasn't following some random blonde. Despite her best efforts to keep up, he simply evaporated into thin air.

Well, there went her best shot at finding answers. "Damn," she hissed under her breath, her pace faltering to a halt. Someone shouldered their way past her, grumbling something unintelligible but definitely rude. Melanie ignored everyone around her as she leaned against the side of some building. She couldn't stick around any longer, waiting for Rumlow—or worse, the Asset—to track her down again. She had to get as far away as possible. Perhaps she should even leave the country, altogether. Sign me up for an island vacation. Better yet, drop me off in the middle of Antarctica.

While she absently observed the city around her, wondering where she could go, she spotted a random clothing store. Now that she wasn't passing herself off as a S.T.R.I.K.E. agent, her suit wasn't a disguise at all. Rogers had the right idea when he ditched his Captain America uniform. First, she would change into civilian clothes, and then she would take the advice Warren gave her. How he would contact her, she was unsure, but he sounded confident about it. That was his problem to figure out, anyway. Her job was to avoid being caught; something she had been very good at.

A worker greeted her as she walked in, but she hardly noticed. She had no time for pleasantries. She was on a mission to find a proper disguise to blend into society. Something casual and practical, that made her relatively invisible. It didn't take her long to put together an outfit; a simple black hoody, a plain white t-shirt, maroon-colored sweatpants, and a pair of black-and-white sneakers. On her way to the back of the store, where the fitting rooms were, she caught sight of the bags. Sure enough, there was a black, white-trimmed gym bag. Snatching that, she made her way to the fitting rooms. There weren't many customers browsing the store, and no one was in the back. Perfect.

Living life on the run had made her quick to adapt. In record time, she stripped the armored vest, arm and shin guards, and pulled off the rest of her suit. All of it went into the gym bag, including her weapons. She was surprised no one had called the police yet. Unless they were used to strange people walking in dressed like assassins. In any case, she stashed the knife and gun away so she would appear as just another harmless civilian going about her day.

After she hastily dressed herself in the clothes she had no money to pay for, she bent down to lace the shoes. Her hands were shaking, so it was ridiculously difficult to knot the laces properly. She closed her eyes to calm herself. Just run and don't look back. You've done it before, you can do it again. The first time she ran—or at least, the first time she remembered—she thought she had nothing to lose. She was so terribly wrong. If she was caught, she would lose everything. Her identity. Her sanity. Her humanity.

Pierce can go straight to hell. Part of her wanted to personally slice off his head for using her, but the risks were too high. She wasn't strong enough to go against Hydra alone. So, once again, she was choosing flight over fight.

Grabbing her gym bag, she stood up, ready to make a run for the door before anyone could realize what was happening. Robbing a store wasn't the wisest thing to do when on the run, but she needed the clothes. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door only to freeze when she spotted the man waiting just outside.

Arms folded, he leaned against the wall a few feet away, ankles crossed in a casual and non-threatening manner. When he lifted his blue eyes from the floor, they zeroed in on her with such intensity she almost took a step back. Steve Rogers had found a new disguise of his own, dressed in a blue hoody and sweatpants so as not to stand out in a crowd. Even without the Captain America getup or the shield clutched in his hand, he was an intimidating sight. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. Obviously, he caught on to the fact she had been following him for blocks; he wasn't called a super soldier for nothing. He had pulled evasive maneuvers to throw her off his trail, and circled around so he was shadowing her instead. Rogers had outsmarted her and quite honestly, she was scared shitless. Considering how he wiped the floor with the entire S.T.R.I.K.E. team, she stood a snowball's chance in hell against him in a fair fight. She was still hurting after being beaten by Russ. Her impulsive decision had turned out to be a very bad mistake.

So, she panicked. Without saying a word, she closed the door and locked herself in the fitting room. She needed a moment of privacy to mull over her next ingenious plan. She heard Steve muffle a chuckle on the other side of the door. There was a gap between the walls and the ceiling in each of the 'rooms' which would be more accurately described as stalls. He could easily leap over and get in that way; they both knew it. Pressing her forehead to the door, Melanie closed her eyes. Then she looked down at her gym bag where she had stashed her weapons.

Moving away from the wall, Steve calmly approached the door. Knocking politely with his knuckles, he said, "Come on out. Let's talk."

Her hand was inside her gym bag, fingers touching the gun nestled atop her former attire. Then, she clutched for the knife. It felt strangely reassuring to hold a blade. She had lost her sword; it was likely still somewhere back at the Triskelion. The knife would do. Pulling it from the bag, she tightened her grip and watched the sharp blade reflect the light overhead.

"Come out," Rogers repeated coolly, before he warned, "Or I'm coming in. Last chance."

Unlocking the door, Melanie hesitated before finally pulling it open. Face to face with Steve Rogers, she braved his intense stare without revealing how petrified she was. "Sorry," she said.

Puzzled, Steve gave her a questioning look. The knife aimed to stab into his shoulder was answer enough. His reflexes rivaled her own as he managed to catch her arm, before the blade could bury itself in his flesh. Grabbing hold of her shoulder with his other hand, he pushed her farther back into the fitting room and slammed her against the wall. Melanie bit back a cry of pain as her bruises were inflamed. Her body couldn't take much more punishment. Fighting Steve was a bad idea, so she decided to surrender. Meeting his glare, she dropped the knife and he glanced down as it clattered to the floor. Kicking the knife away, he kept her pinned to the wall with one arm crossed over her neck. If he applied pressure, he could choke her, but he was just restraining her for the time being.

"Why did you follow me?" he asked, getting straight to the million dollar question.

She was unsure how to answer. While her heart pounded, her mind reeled, and an overwhelming sense of déjà vu swept over her. Something about this situation seemed vaguely familiar…but she couldn't recall how, or why. In her confusion, she was unable to utter a word.

"I'm not messing around," Steve warned. He hadn't raised his voice, but his tone was clipped and harsh. His patience was wearing thin, given the circumstances. "Start talking."

Recovering some of her bravado, she grinned, "I just wanted your autograph. I'm your biggest fan."

Rogers didn't even chuckle. His expression remained rigid and he set his jaw, waiting for a serious answer.

Fine, have it your way, mister serious... Melanie sighed, wishing she had just left when she had the chance. "I need your help," she admitted apprehensively, trying not to cringe as she said those words. Never had she asked anyone for help, before.

His suspicious glare softened a bit, but he narrowed his eyes, wary of her motives. "So, now you want my help," he said sardonically, rolling his eyes a bit. "Last time I offered, you jumped off a speeding train."

Sorry…what? Baffled, Melanie eyed him with the same skepticism, but couldn't think of a plausible reason for him to make up such a thing. He smirked a little, as if to play it off as a joke, but the bitterness was clear. There was sadness in his eyes that he couldn't hide; he was too honest. She had no recollection of ever being at odds with Captain America, and sure as hell didn't remember jumping from a train. But, evidently he remembered too well. Considering what kind of person Pierce had turned her into, she shuddered to imagine who she had been during her service to Hydra under command of Johan Schmidt. She didn't want to ask Steve about her crimes; not yet. Instead, she just dropped her gaze and admitted quietly, "I…don't remember that."

Regarding her with a confused, pensive expression, he seemed to be warring within himself. He was debating whether or not to believe a single word she said. She couldn't blame him. For a moment, he let his guard down and opened up a little. "I saw you hit the tracks…I don't know how you're alive, and right now, that doesn't matter." Meeting her eyes again, he continued, "What I need to know is, can I trust you?"

Well, that was one hell of a loaded question. The reality was, she was confused and pretty damn terrified of what answers Steve might have regarding her forgotten past. She was uncertain what kind of person she truly was. The real question; did she deserve his trust? Despite whatever wrong she had done, whatever pain she had caused him, he was still willing to give her another chance. That revelation made her feel awful about trying to stab him earlier. She never intended to kill him; she just wanted to inflict enough pain to force him to back off, so she could escape.

Without revealing too much, Melanie finally answered his question as honestly as possible, "I have too many enemies, not enough friends." It was a serious answer, but she smiled at the end, hoping he would take that as reassurance. She could see he was still conflicted about trusting her, but he also looked just as desperate for companionship.

"That makes two of us," he responded, letting her go. When his foot bumped the gym bag she had dropped on the floor, he grabbed it on his way out of the confined space. Suspicious or just curious, he examined the contents of the bag. What he found didn't surprise him, but he gave Melanie an odd look when he pulled out the fully loaded gun. She had opted for the knife, when she could have shot him if she wanted. By the look on his face, he was conflicted over whether or not to be comforted by that.

Saying nothing, Melanie slipped past him and retrieved the knife he had kicked. She made it obvious as she tucked it away into the pocket of her sweatpants; she wasn't giving up her weapon, but she had no need to stab him as long as he didn't cross the line. Steve carefully placed the gun back into the bag and zipped it up. Cautiously, he stepped closer to her before holding the bag out for her to take. The deliberate gesture of trust wasn't lost on her. Meeting his stare, she accepted the bag and carefully secured the strap over her shoulder.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Steve told her, pointing sternly for emphasis. "You owe me an explanation."

Melanie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she knew he wouldn't just let her tag along, no questions asked. "Yeah, we can chat over coffee later. Right now we should move our asses before the cavalry shows up," she said maybe too abrasively. She wasn't exactly the friendliest person under pressure. The threat of having her brain scrambled was making her anxious.

Steve had a stubborn look on his face. He would hold her to that, without a doubt. He would want to know the whole story, but he was smart enough to know they had lingered far too long in one place. "Fair enough," he agreed. Turning, he started to lead the way out when he paused to face her again. Pointing in her general direction, he asked, "You planned on paying for all that, right?"

That time, Melanie did roll her eyes. "Sorry I didn't have time to grab my wallet before being kidnapped."

He frowned at the word "kidnapped".

"Long story," she told him, dismissing the subject while mentally kicking herself for mentioning it. Steve looked less than pleased about her withholding information, but he let the subject drop. There would be time for interrogations and heart-to-hearts later, if they could find somewhere private and secure to hide out. Emphasis on if; S.H.I.E.L.D. would be hunting Steve without rest with Hydra pulling the strings. He stopped them once; they wouldn't let him get in the way, again. Just how she would go about explaining to Steve she had been working for Hydra, his arch nemesis...well, it was probably best to keep that to herself for now.

She slinked her way through the store, avoiding notice while heading for the door. Close to escaping, she noticed Steve wasn't behind her. Glancing back, she saw him pass by the checkout counter. Offering no explanation to the bewildered cashier, he left a pile of crumpled bills on the counter without slowing his stride and made his way for the door. Melanie slipped out of the store with Steve close behind. By the time the cashier realized what just happened, they had already merged with the rest of the civilians on the street.

Walking beside Rogers, she understood why so many people idolized him. He was Captain America, the First Avenger, one of the world's mightiest heroes- but he was more than that. Without his suit and shield, he was simply a man with integrity and honor. Having superhuman strength, speed and agility didn't hurt, though. Melanie would have stolen the clothes without looking back, but Steve wouldn't have left without paying. Sure, someone could argue he just did that to lower the chances of the police being called, but she knew otherwise. He was pure of heart.

The feeling of déjà vu struck again without warning, much harder than before. Her ears were ringing and her heart was pounding impossibly loud, while the world around her seemed to fall silent. She had a similar feeling back in the elevator when Rumlow was escorting her back to her cell. No memories were returning, but she felt panicked and overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. What's wrong with me…

"Hey," she heard Steve say. His hand rested on her shoulder, steadying her as her legs threatened to give out. Her vision stopped spinning, but she still felt disoriented while Steve eyed her like he was afraid she would collapse. "What's the matter?"

Melanie shrugged off his hand and pushed her hair back from her forehead. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Just tired. Let's just go...to wherever the hell we're going."

Steve caught her arm, gently. "Hey," he said again in a placating tone. "Don't pull another stunt like on the train...I wanna what's going on with you."

Whatever happened between them on that train all those decades ago, he was deeply affected by it. He had said he watched her hit the tracks and thought she was dead. That raised many questions, none of which she was ready to know the answers to. One thing was evident; Steve cared about her for reasons she couldn't understand. If he knew what she had done, how many people she killed in cold blood, there was no way he would be so friendly. "I'm the last person you should worry about," she told him, averting her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

She didn't answer. For a moment, Steve stared her down, looking more than tempted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Then he reigned in whatever anger he was feeling, releasing it with an exasperated sigh.

"Getting real tired of secrets around here," he muttered to himself, before turning to resume leading the way to wherever he had in mind.

Hesitating, Melanie watched him as he headed off, aware she had the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He would probably chase her if he realized she was running for it. He was fast, but she could outrun him; what she lacked in physical strength she made up for in speed. Separating herself from Rogers might be the best plan of action; there was a significant chance he would only lead her into danger. After all, he was Captain America, the prime target to be captured and eliminated as far as Hydra was concerned. Compared to him, Melanie was the last on their list of priorities. Not to mention, there was no predicting how Steve would reaction once he learned the truth about her involvement with Hydra in recent years.

Despite all that, Melanie had a strange, sick feeling at the thought of being on her own. Even with Warren's promise to contact her and offer more insight and guidance, she dreaded being separated from Steve. Risks aside, he was still her best bet and truthfully, she was starting to enjoy his company even if they weren't on the best terms. Damn, I really am going soft, she thought as she caught up to him.

When Melanie took her place beside him, Steve glanced over as if to make sure she was still there. He gave her a slight nod and retrained his attention ahead, but she caught him smiling.

For several blocks, Melanie followed Steve's lead, thinking they were headed toward some kind of hideout where they could catch their breath. Color her surprised when a hospital came into view and the Captain quickened his pace as he surveyed the lot, approaching the place with equal levels of caution and urgency.

"Why are we here?' she asked him as they neared the front entrance.

"There's something inside that I need," he replied, being deliberately cryptic. It was only fair, considering she was keeping things from him, but it annoyed her nonetheless.

They entered at an opportune moment, as the receptionist opened the door for a visitor who just checked in. As they followed the stranger into the hospital wing, no one stopped them if anyone noticed at all. The silence between them was getting uncomfortable.

Melanie still wanted to know why they were trespassing, unless Steve had a sick relative he neglected to mention. "Plan on telling me why we're here?"

"Sure. Let's trade secrets," he suggested, while leading the way through the halls. "Tell me what you were doing at the Triskelion."

After mulling over how to answer without revealing too much at once, she told him a simplified version of the story. "I was a prisoner, but I escaped."

Steve casted her a sidelong glance as they kept walking. He was trying to look disapproving, but he cracked a smirk. "Why am I not surprised…"

"Your turn," she prompted.

He also took a moment to choose his words carefully. "Someone killed Nick Fury. I'm gonna find out why."

"Nick Fury?" she repeated, unsure where she had heard that name before.

He glanced at her briefly, looking more tense than usual. "He was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He was onto something…Last night, he came to my apartment, injured. He told me S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised. Then someone shot him. He died here…" he explained, a little too calmly. He was trying to keep his composure, but she saw how close he was to breaking down. Whatever kind of relationship he had with the deceased Nick Fury, his assassination was a tragic loss. He was deeply disturbed by the conspiracy and he dreaded the answers he would eventually uncover. Melanie understood that well enough.

She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. Comforting others wasn't exactly her best skill and she had reservations about getting close to people, but she wasn't heartless. Steve was surprised by the unexpected touch, slowing his pace to look at her. She thought maybe she had overstepped a boundary, but he closed his hand around hers and smiled appreciatively. Before it became uncomfortable, Melanie withdrew her hand and he let go.

They must have finally reached the right place, because Steve halted and looked around, checking for any threats. His eyes then focused on a vending machine. Melanie watched him approach it with the most serious face she had ever seen someone approach a vending machine with. She couldn't resist teasing him over it.

"Do they have any strawberry pop tarts?" she asked, half-serious. She wouldn't object to a snack; it had been almost twenty four hours since she had last eaten.

Unamused, Steve shot her a hard glance before returning his attention to the machine. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it, evidence by his deeply furrowed brow and troubled pout. Melanie was about to ask what was wrong, but she noticed a woman with dark red hair emerging from a room behind him. He spotted her in the reflection on the vending machine and must have recognized her, because he looked less than pleased to see her standing there. The woman blew a bubble with her chewing gum, taunting him. Steve turned to face her, waiting for a doctor to pass before grabbing the woman by the arms. Aggressively, he pushed her into the nearby empty room.

Melanie quickly moved to the doorway in time to see Steve slam the woman against the wall. She decided to remain outside the room where she could keep an eye on the hallway and listen to the hushed-but-hostile conversation.

"Where is it?" Steve demanded harshly.

"Safe," the woman replied nonspecifically.

"Do better," Steve said, unsatisfied with her one word answer.

Instead, she asked her own question. "Where did you get it?"

"Why would I tell you?"

The woman paused for a second, doing the math. "Fury gave it to you. Why?"

"What's on it?"

"I don't know."

"Stop lying," Steve told her, speaking the same way he had to Melanie when interrogating her earlier. He didn't raise his voice when he was angry, but that didn't make him less intimidating.

"I only act like I know everything, Rogers," the woman said in her defense.

"I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates. Didn't you?"

The woman hesitated to answer, aware she was walking on thin ice. Melanie could relate to how she was feeling at the moment; Steve was very demanding of the truth, for sure. Then something occurred to her about the pirates. Back when she was in the van, losing consciousness as the sedative took full effect, Russ had informed Rumlow that pirates had taken over a S.H.I.E.L.D. ship. The man Steve told her about- Nick Fury- he hired pirates to hijack one of his own ships. Melanie listened with keen interest, aware she was hearing things that perhaps she shouldn't be.

"Well, it makes sense," the woman said offhandedly. "The ship was dirty; Fury needed a way in, so did you."

Losing patience with the painstaking process of prying small bits of information, Steve grabbed her by the arms again. She tensed defensively, while he glared. "I'm not going to ask you again," he warned, leaving it up to her imagination to figure out what the consequences would be if she kept dancing around the details. He didn't trust her and he would consider her an enemy, unless she told him something worthwhile.

After a brief, tense silence, she said, "I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with the assassinations of over two dozen in the last fifty years."

"So he's a ghost story," Steve said, skeptical.

"Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control; went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out...but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him right through me," she said as she lifted up her shirt to reveal the scar as proof. "Soviet slug. No rifling. Bye bye, bikinis."

"Yeah, I bet you look terrible in 'em now," Steve said, as a sarcastic jab.

"Going after him is a dead end. I know; I've tried," she said, ignoring his jab to warn him about the Winter Soldier. Then she reached into her pocket, pulling out a USB which she held up close between them. "Like you said. He's a ghost story."

Steve had calmed down, no longer angry over her secrecy. He took the USB and said, "Well, let's find out what the ghost wants"

There was a lot going on that Melanie wasn't entirely understanding, but neither of the other two mentioned Hydra. Which meant she knew more than they did. She had a sneaking suspicion the Winter Soldier wasn't a ghost, but a masked man.

At the end of their conversation, Steve turned to face Melanie and the red haired woman seemed to notice her for the first time. The look on her face was one of incredulity, as she tensed into a defensive stance. Her reaction was unexpected, since she had no memory of meeting this woman, let alone doing her any wrong.

Steve didn't miss the hostility between them. Frowning, he asked, "Did I miss something?"

"Steve. Tell me she's not here with you."

"What if I am?" Melanie challenged.

"Take it easy, Natasha," Steve told her, "She's a friend."

Natasha. Of course; she was one of the Avengers who helped save New York a while back. She worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. like Steve had. Clearly, she knew more about Melanie than he did. That made her nervous.

"Melanie Dampier. Last known alias, Melanie Kingsman," Natasha stated, looking her dead in the eyes as she read off details she had memorized from studying her file. "She's responsible for over two hundred assassinations in her lifetime. Over a dozen in the last decade. She's killed important contacts and allies of S.H.I.E.L.D. all over the world."

Well, so much for having a chat over coffee. Melanie wanted to scowl at Natasha, but the accusations were true and Steve had the right to know. Ashamed, she dropped her eyes to the floor as her face burned under the scrutiny of both Avengers. It was difficult, but she managed to meet Steve's eyes and braced herself for whatever reaction he would have. She expected to see contempt or some form of disgust, but he looked upon her thoughtfully without harsh judgment. Whatever was going through his head, he seemed to be giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"She's a fugitive, Steve," Natasha stressed, disinclined to give Melanie any leniency.

"So are we," he countered.

Folding her arms, Natasha eyed Melanie before looking back to Steve. "Careful who you call your friends," she advised.

"Just don't," he retorted. "You're the last one who can lecture me about trust."

The jab seemed to strike a nerve, because she lowered her eyes and pouted slightly. If she had any other objections, she kept them to herself. Naturally, Melanie wanted to tell her to fuck off, but she was beyond petty rivalry at that point. All she wanted to do was move on.

"So, where to, Captain?" she asked Steve, taking to calling him by that title.

He didn't answer immediately, which meant he wasn't exactly sure where to go next.

"Actually, I know where we can go," Natasha offered, seeming to include Melanie in her use of 'we'. "You want to find out what's on that thing?" she asked Steve, glancing pointedly toward the USB he still held in his hand. "The mall isn't too far from here. Feel like shopping for a shiny new laptop?"

Steve furrowed his brows, less than enthusiastic about the idea of walking through a crowded shopping mall when they were all being hunted. He might have told her she was out of her mind, but Melanie spoke up.

"That's a good idea. The mall is the last place they'll be looking. As long as no one recognizes you, we should be fine."

Natasha caught her eyes, her expression difficult to read but it was safe to assume she didn't give a shit about her opinion. Melanie wasn't kissing her ass; she honestly thought it was a better idea than isolating themselves and going somewhere they could be tracked down and murdered without witnesses. Besides, where else would they get their hands on a laptop or computer?

"Fine," Steve agreed, although he was still apprehensive. "It's a plan. Let's go."

Roger that, Captain, Melanie thought with a smirk, deciding not to say it aloud when he was so moody. Falling into line behind Steve while Natasha led the way back thought the hospital toward the nearest exit, she crossed her fingers and hoped against all odds they would make it in and out without incident. She should have known better than to hope.