When he removes his shirt, the first thing I see is the extensive bruising on his back.

"What—"

He raises a hand to silence me.

"As I said. Captain America in an elevator." He shrugs my concern off, his voice a little gruff, like he's done with being asked about it.

And truthfully, I probably shouldn't have asked about it. I don't need to be reminded about who he is right now. The last thing I need is to second guess myself, when I'd already promised myself that I could have this one last night of ignorance. Tomorrow I have to wake up to the truth.

He pushes me back with one hand until I'm lying back on the bed, and a smile tugs at his lips.

"It still hurts like hell, so be gentle with those nails." He raises an amused eyebrow at me, angling his head slightly.

I look into those teasing brown eyes and try to imagine them filled with hatred and evil rather than amusement.

I try to imagine him closing his hands around my throat, and how it would feel to draw my last breath knowing I'd died at his hands like so many other people have. His friends. His colleagues. How much is he willing to sacrifice for Hydra?

The better question is, what isn't he willing to sacrifice for Hydra?

His gentle touch drives away my fears, his fingers idly tracing my jaw line. His gaze is focused on my lips, but my silence soon draws his attention.

"Change your mind?" He whispers, raising his eyes to meet mine again. I know he's not talking about our relationship. He can't read my mind. Still, it's kind of painfully funny that his question is so relevant.

I smile, cupping his cheeks with my hands, his stubble grazing against my palms like ticklish pin pricks.

"You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me." I reply. More specifically, I wish I'd never fallen for you.

His eyebrows rise, a frown appearing on his lips. I can't blame him for being surprised, my honesty surprised even me. I take advantage of his silence and pull him down into my embrace, pressing my lips to his mouth, inhaling the masculine scent of his cologne, feeling the way his muscles relax under my hands.

"Well, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time." He murmurs, his lips brushing over mine.

And with those words, he peels away all the excuses I've made, all those pieces of tape holding my heart together.

And it breaks.

I wake to an empty bed, the sound of my alarm clock and a punishing headache. I kick the covers off, hit the snooze button, and lay still, listening to the silence.

It's over. Any feelings I once had for Brock Rumlow have vanished with the morning light.

Everything comes rushing back to me all at once. I close my eyes against the memories, but it doesn't help the thrumming in my head. I should have listened to Michael and Dr. Nikolav. Hell, even the subject warned me not to trust anyone.

But I was naïve. When will I learn? It's like this headache is retribution for my idiocy.

I'm thinking of calling in sick when my snooze alarm rings again, reminding me that I have just 40 minutes before the car arrives to pick me up.

This time when I turn the alarm off, I notice the scrap of paper beside the clock.

You slept so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you up. See you later.

Rumlow

I smile bitterly. Why does he sign his name like anyone else had been here?

His penmanship is sharp and somewhat angular, and he doesn't dot his "I"s, which irritates me for some reason. Probably the headache. And, you know, the fact that I'm still mad at him.

I crumple the paper in my hand, like that's going to make me feel better, and curl up into a ball. And then, despite myself, I cry, because I was at peace. I'd finally accepted that I'm an idiot and he's a traitor and this is over. I even laughably thought this would make for a funny story I'd tell my future kids one day. Hey, once upon a time, mom accidentally dated an almost-Nazi.

It's not so funny this morning, because I haven't woken up from this nightmare.

I drag myself out of bed and take a shower, washing my misery away, hoping I won't look like an utter mess when I come in for work.

God, how am I going to face Rumlow when he finally tells me that he's working for Hydra? He's the only thing ensuring my survival right now. If I break up with him, I'm still stuck on this team, but I lose that protection.

Ugh, screw it. I don't have the time or the heart to think about him right now. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Right now, the fact is that Hydra exists, and it's infiltrated Shield, led to the capture of Captain America, and about to launch Project Insight... whatever that is. Am I supposed to warn someone? Who? I can't trust anyone anymore, and I don't want to die.

That "colleague" I'm meeting today is probably a Hydra insider too. He's working with Pierce, after all. The question is, who isn't with Hydra? Kenji obviously knew about it... does Dr. Jones? Chris and Taye? Did Michael know?

I don't even have time to think about this over a cup of coffee; I've barely finished getting dressed when I hear a car horn outside. I quickly grab my bag and keys and head to the door. A heavily armed Shield vehicle is idling on the street just behind my Yaris.

It fills me with an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.

Again, I feel like I'm on my way to an execution. They've really got to find a less intimidating way to do this.