I'm awoken by a slight sound. I lift my head from the desk, rubbing my eyes as I glance around. I must have dozed off. I glance in the direction of the noise. The TV is on at the monitoring station, airing footage from the subject lab. I see Rollins with his weapon raised at the subject–crap, Rollins is back? That means the rest of the Strike team is, too. I glance out the window. It's already dark outside.

I pack up my things, shoving them hurriedly into my bag before I walk over to the TV to turn it off. There are far more guards than usual. I guess he lashed out at someone again.

I reach for the remote. Just as I point it at the TV, Alexander Pierce enters the Subject lab with Rumlow in tow. He signals to his men to stand down, and they move away from the subject.

I hesitate as my thumb rests on the remote's power button. Does this count as eavesdropping? Would I get in trouble for watching this?

"Mission report."

When the subject doesn't respond, I turn up the volume a little more. Well, it definitely counts as eavesdropping now.

"Mission report now." Pierce repeats. Still, the subject stares straight ahead.

Pierce steps forward and leans in, then slaps the subject suddenly—hard, sending his head reeling sideways. I flinch. The subject shows no visible pain, only a reaction that makes it seem like he just woke up from a daze. His brow furrows and his voice is soft as he speaks.

"The man on the bridge… who was he?"

I have a sinking feeling that he's referring to Steve Rogers.

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment." Pierce replies calmly, his voice emotionless and relaxed. No one in the room moves. The subject drifts into momentary silence, then his lips move ever so slightly as his eyes flicker elsewhere. I have to strain my ears to hear him.

"I knew him."

I see Rumlow shift his weight to the other foot as Pierce pulls up a stool and begins to speak again.

"Your work has been a gift to mankind." He pauses. "You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society's at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push. But you don't do your part, I can't do mine. And Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

What?

I didn't… I didn't imagine that, right? He definitely said Hydra right now. In present tense. This has never been a Shield project, has it? Suddenly Kenji's dying words make sense, and I'm overwhelmed with an intense urge to flee.

I raise the remote again, but I stop when I see that look on the subject's face.

"But I knew him." His confidence falters, and he flinches a little, like the words pained him. His tone is almost defiant, a half plea-half command to be told the identity of the man on the bridge.

Pierce sits back. I wait for his reaction, wondering what he's going to do now. He stands up, turning to a researcher I don't recognize.

"Prep him."

"He's been out of cryofreeze too long."

"Then wipe him, and start over." Pierce replies.

Then it happens. They push him back into the seat and put that retainer in his mouth. The restraints clasp around his arms and the apparatus arms come down around his head.

Damn it, it makes me so mad. He allows them to do it. To think all this time, they've been using him without his knowledge like this… and even now that he suspects that something is wrong, there's nothing he can do but obey, and he does. He's their prisoner. As am I.

When the screams begin, Pierce turns and walks away, and Rumlow follows him.

I turn off the TV, drop the remote on the table and leave the room. I can't be here.

I pass the empty reception desk in the hall and step into the elevator, leaning against the mirrored glass as I wait for the steady descent to end.

Pierce is with Hydra. The subject is part of a Hydra project. And Rumlow… Rumlow's with Hydra too, isn't he? His appreciation for "order" and authority make so much sense now.

God, why?

I don't want to believe it. I don't want to. I can't.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors open.

Alexander Pierce smiles at me. He's standing in the lobby with Jack Rollins and another man, and Rumlow is nowhere to be seen. Thankfully.

"Elise. Working hard?"

"I stayed late to do some reading, lost track of time." I plaster on my most convincing smile as I step out of the elevator. I don't want to be stuck in there with him.

"Dedicated as always. I'm glad to hear it. I can't wait to introduce you to my colleague tomorrow." Pierce nods, passing me to enter the elevator. The two men follow him, paying me little attention.

"I look forward to it." I reply graciously. When the elevator doors close, the smile disappears from my face.

I have to get out of here, ASAP.

I take the stairs down to the parking complex and walk as quickly as possible to my car. I'm caught up in fishing for my keys in my purse when someone places a hand on my shoulder, causing me to practically jump out of my shoes. Rumlow's amused expression greets me as I turn around.

"God, Brock. Don't do that to me." I push him away in irritation. He's the last damn person I want to see right now.

"Why are you here so late?" He places his hands on the car behind me, preventing any efforts to escape.

"I stayed after work to read. And then I dozed off accidentally." I shrug distractedly, my attention caught by the new scars on his face.

"What happened to you?" I gingerly touch the rough cut that spans from his right eyebrow down to his cheekbone.

"Captain America happened. In an elevator." I sense no bitterness in his words. They almost sound like he's joking. I might have smiled, if I hadn't seen the way he arrested Steve Rogers earlier.

No. I'm going to pretend that didn't happen. I'm going to pretend, just for now, that he has nothing to do with Hydra, that he was just dragged into this like I was. I'm going to pretend, because if I don't, I would never be able to look into his eyes right now without losing my sanity. I can't believe he hid this from me.

"Why the silence? You don't believe me?" He draws closer, pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the car.

"I'm imagining it." I joke, doing my best to ignore my racing heart. "It sounds kind of suggestive."

"Don't imagine anything." He growls, biting my bottom lip.

Damn, I want him. I want him and I hate myself for it.

He's not an agent of Hydra. He's just Pierce's pawn. And when this is over, he'll tell me all his secrets, and they'll be completely harmless, and I'll breathe a sigh of relief and move on. God, just let me believe that for today.

These excuses I make are an effort to appease the massive cognitive dissonance ripping my heart apart. They're pieces of tape I'm sticking over the cracks, hoping it'll hold, just for one night.

I reach over his shoulder, bury my fingers in his jet black hair and pull him in for a kiss that holds everything—all my love for him, my pain, my anger. I don't care if someone walks by. I don't care who sees us. This is the last time I will genuinely love him. Tomorrow I'll wake up to the fact that my boyfriend belongs to a nazi-esque organization bent on world domination, and I won't love him.

He returns my kiss with equal passion, drawing me deeper into this madness and despair. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't he be anyone else?

I inhale the scent of his cologne as his stubble grazes my cheek. He hasn't shaved in a day, it seems. Well, obviously he didn't have the time, hunting Captain America and all. For Hydra.

No. I said I wouldn't think about that.

"Not here."' He breaks away after a few moments, his voice carrying a husky undertone.

"Do you need a drive?" I bite my lip, still swollen from the kiss.

He doesn't need a drive, and that's not what I'm asking about. His contemplative silence tells me he knows that. He looks like he's about to refuse, and I half want him to. Put me in my place. Don't allow me to wallow in my denial. Let me go home alone to come to terms with my new-found discovery.

But his expression suddenly changes, and he smirks.

"I shouldn't. We have an early launch scheduled tomorrow." He checks his watch and pauses, "But what the hell, why not. I wasn't going to get much sleep at home anyway."