They brought him back to her room.

At first, she thought it was a joke. After that display in the training room, there was no way they'd give him any kind of treat unless this was all just their sick little way of 'rewarding' her. Two men escorted him, both of them victims of his wrath yesterday. Jane recognized them only from the bruises on their faces. They violently shoved Bucky forward, making sure he hit the wall. One of them snatched Jane's half-eaten dinner tray and backed outside.

"Keep it down tonight, lovebirds. Don't try getting smart."

"Relax, Carver," the other man said, grinning coldly at Jane. "The doctor's got the picture, don't you, Doc?"

Sealing her lips shut, Jane nodded. It was a small, tight thing. Barely distinguishable from a grimace. It was enough for the two men as they bolted the doors. The grinning man saw her off with a mock salute.

"Hail HYDRA," he said.

Jane said nothing.

Footsteps traveled to the left. Either they were gone or they were standing guard. Not like it mattered either way. Jane had exhausted all options for escape. She couldn't even find the hidden cameras and listening devices that she did not believe for a second weren't in here. If she had a sledgehammer and superhuman strength, that might get her somewhere. In the absence of that, she fingernails for digging.

At least the food was better this time.

"Do you think they're stepping up their game because I complained about my last meal?" she asked.

Bucky stared at her, blank eyes taking her in like she was a wall ornament. Jane sighed and sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a calculated risk that paid off when he didn't push her away. His body was as tight as steel rope. There had to be something she could do to make him relax. Make him listen.

"I did something stupid," she said, staring at her tainted hand. "Something I know I'm going to regret. Not because I wish I hadn't done it, but because this never should've happened to begin with. You shouldn't be here. Just like you shouldn't have been on that train. You should've gone home to your family, gotten back in the ring, taken some nice… nice girl on a date."

She looked up. He was staring straight ahead and hadn't so much as twitched. Cold fear tightened in her chest. They hadn't already done something to him, had they?

"When you proposed, I'd never been happier in my life. I didn't care about the consequences. It just felt so right. Like we really were meant to be together. I went back in time for a reason, and maybe that reason was you." She paused to dry her eyes. "I spent years trying to move on. I cried myself to sleep so many times. And then I find out you were alive the whole time. I don't think I can take anymore grieving."

Getting to her knees, she crawled in front of him. She put her hands on his face, rubbing his harsh stubble. He blinked and his lips parted, but that was all he managed. Both hands, real or otherwise, were limp.

"I know you're in there," she said through a fresh wave of tears. "You must think I'm scared of you for what happened today. I'm not. Because I know it wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault. Whatever they've made you do… this isn't you. I know you, Bucky. I have for a long time, and if it takes me the rest of my life, I'm going to bring you back."

Every move he made was sluggish as if he were running on dying batteries. He lifted a hand only to reach into his pocket and pull out something shiny. He held it between them. It didn't sparkle under the light the way it should've, but it was beautiful all the same. Her eyes were reflected in the diamond pattern as she touched her bare neck.

"I didn't even notice," she said. She took Bucky's hand, kissing his knuckles. The ring pressed against her palm as she drew herself up. "I said yes to you seventy years ago and I'll say it a thousand more times. I'll say it every single day until we're out of here. Then someday, we'll take that walk down the aisle, and it'll just be you and me."

He never looked away. She knew he didn't really understand what she was saying, but hope was a powerful thing. It could overcome anything, even common sense. That dead look in his eye was just a mask. It was them, not him. This was a creature they created. The real Bucky Barnes was buried deep down, waiting to be dug up. She snuggled into him, her head under his neck, feeling his heartbeat.

"I love you, Bucky," she whispered, tasting leather and metal. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

She said it over and over again, as clearly as she could manage. Until not even the rock of dread in her gut was enough to keep her eyes from drooping and her words meshed into nothing.

She'd been asleep for twenty minutes.

The bed was freshly made and would be perfectly comfortable for a sailor on a submarine. The soldier knew he should put her in it and then go wait for his handlers to issue orders, but this spot was comfortable. He didn't feel like leaving just yet.

That wasn't insubordination, was it?

Well, if it was, he didn't care as much as he should've.

The woman was peaceful in sleep, a far cry from her volatile waking hours. She didn't even snore. Every breath was delicate like a feather or a butterfly wing. When she lay on her side, she seemed to shrink. If he didn't hold onto her, she might vanish in a puff of smoke. That would make his superiors angry and they would punish him for incompetence. Another reason he shouldn't let go. Really, it was for both of their protection.

Protecting her was not his job, not even when she was a target. Bring her in alive, unharmed if possible. Very simple, something a rookie could've done. It didn't matter why they chose him. Nothing about her ever should have mattered. Except that if those men came back tomorrow, and looked at her like that again, the next thing they saw would be his fist.

That was wrong, but it was also right. Somewhere deep within the swarm of nothing that made up his inner thoughts, this was everything he'd been born to do. Even though he served HYDRA and had known nothing else for all of his torpid existence, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more. More than just a chair and a stasis pod.

That she really was his.

Holding her hand and the ring, the soldier closed his eyes, a poor mimicry of sleep. He didn't know what his handlers wanted him to do, and that state of limbo made him fear the worst. Avoiding every camera lens, he had no choice but to look at her. He memorized her face, finding freckles and a mole exactly where he expected to. He touched her fingers, caressed her hair, traced the slope of her nose, and brushed her lips.

She was… beautiful. Like an angel. She didn't belong here. If he could, he'd break her out and send her far away. Somewhere safe where HYDRA couldn't reach her. Even if it meant he'd never see her again. Never hold her like this again.

After tomorrow, he might not anyway.

Jane woke up cold. Her left foot was asleep and her back was bent into the wall, the harsh chill exacerbating the ache in her spine instead of easing it. A muted whine hummed in her ear as fluorescent light stabbed her eyelids. She tried to lean forward, groaning when she couldn't and wondering what the hell had possessed her to sleep upright when she knew how bad for her back that was. She continued to berate herself until the fog over her brain cleared and she remembered where she was.

The door was wide open. She could tell by the breeze and the voices outside. Feeling around with clumsy fingers, there was no one next to her or behind her. The chill worsened. Bucky was gone but she wasn't alone.

"Sleep well?" Rumlow taunted. He stood directly over her, staring down the bridge of his nose like he was some kind of bigshot and she was a peon bowing to him.

Technically, from this vantage point, she'd have easy access to certain sensitive areas. One good kick and…

"Hey, quit spacing out," he said, snapping his fingers at her. "You've got a big day ahead of you and Pierce doesn't like to be kept waiting, so chop chop."

"What, I don't even get breakfast?" Jane asked, rolling her foot to restore blood flow.

"You want more than one meal a day, you gotta earn it."

When she got herself up, Rumlow left the room, knowing she would follow. At least he wasn't dragging her this time. She rubbed the faded remnants of yesterday's bruises as she jogged to catch up with him. They were walking in a new direction, to a place somehow darker and colder than the last. In her graying button-up shirt and stained blue jeans, she was not exactly dressed for a meeting. Would it be too much to ask that they provide her with at least one change of clothes?

Yes, it probably was. No matter what deal with the devil she'd had to make yesterday, none of them trusted her. She was a loose cannon, a wild card they were about to give free rein. Even Pierce had to know she'd bolt the second she had an opportunity. That was why, as they passed an open doorway, four more men appeared on either side of them, creating an impenetrable wall around her. They closed in, giving her barely enough room to breathe. One of her hands kept brushing something leathery on a blonde man's belt. Her heart turned to ice as she realized it was a gun holster.

They walked down a hall with a downward slant. The air was warmer here, but as stale as ever. The faint smell of paint chips settled over her, burning her nostrils. She quickened her pace as she bumped into the man behind her, whom she'd only just noticed was there. He was one of the biggest she'd ever seen and bared his teeth when she looked at him. From then on, she kept her spine straight and her head forward. The back of Rumlow's head with the tiny thinning patch near the base of his skull wasn't the most interesting sight, but it would have to do. Her vision blurred and she blinked to clear it. In that time, she hit the large man's slightly distended stomach and had to deal with his deep growl vibrating up her back.

The lack of proper sleep was getting to her. Though her appetite was dead, her stomach swayed. They hadn't even given her any water to drink and her throat was parched. She swallowed what little saliva she had. Her mouth was coated in a layer of film and even if she wanted to talk or make demands, she didn't think she could get the words out.

Up ahead was an elevator bay. The idea of getting in an elevator with these guys made her heart twist, but Rumlow led them down a different hallway toward a pair of silver doors. Light shined through the windows, but Jane didn't dare hope it was natural. She had no idea how far underground she really was. They could be halfway to the mantle for all she knew. Only the lack of oppressive heat made her hopeful that they were just in someone's basement.

A light above the doors turned red and they slid open. Rows and rows of empty parking spots appeared. Jane tripped over a crack in the concrete. Entire chunks were missing from the walls, piled in the far corners. The stripes were faded, almost invisible. What cars she could see were parked haphazardly. There was no risk of getting a ticket here and the vehicles were sleek with flawless paint jobs. Why mess them up by parking appropriately?

A small group of agents waited for them next to a black town car. At the head of the group was Pierce. Though Jane shouldn't have been surprised, she had to remind herself not to glare at him. After yesterday, it would put her in a more precarious position than the one she was already in. She did shove her fists in her pockets, hoping that would dissuade him from a friendly handshake.

"Good morning, Doctor," Pierce said. "I'm sorry to drag you out of bed so early. I hope you're feeling well."

It was a test. Jane was never the best at reading people, but she knew that as clearly as she knew her own name. That blonde man wasn't the only one with a gun. One wrong move and she'd be in pieces.

"I am," she said with a forced smile. "Thank you very much for asking."

Either the sarcasm flew over his head, or it wasn't as offensive to him as swearing. "We're sending you to our facility in Sokovia where the scepter is currently being held. Our contact, Baron Von Strucker, will meet you at the rendezvous point. He's eager to meet you."

"Sokovia," Jane whispered. "That's in Europe."

"Correct," Pierce said. "You'll be transported via private jet. Much easier than dealing with customs. You don't even need a passport."

"Where is he?" she demanded, struggling to keep her voice down.

Pierce took the non-sequitur in stride. "The soldier is away on assignment. I'm afraid you'll be gone by the time he gets back."

"What kind of assignment?"

"That's classified." He cut off any further questions with a look at Rumlow. "Please escort Dr. Foster to the airport. And get some food on the way. She looks famished."

Rumlow grabbed Jane's arm and led her to the town car. A man in a driver's uniform waited with the back door open. As Jane prepared to get in and hopefully not trip this time, the footsteps behind her stopped.

"Oh, and Dr. Foster?" Jane turned before Rumlow had a chance to make her. Pierce stood before the open doors, half his men already inside. Everyone waited for him to speak, and when he did, it was the voice of a warm family man. "Hail HYDRA."

Jane swallowed. She stared back at him, keeping her emotions down. If her mind was blank, she didn't have to see all the men ready to kill her at the drop of a hat or hear Rumlow drawing his gun behind her. The only thing she couldn't block out was the sheer disgust.

With her jaw clenched, she just barely squeaked out, "Hail HYDRA."

Pierce didn't say another word. That look of smug satisfaction was enough. As he walked back inside, Rumlow poked her with the barrel of the gun, pushing her toward the car. Inside was no different than any other car she'd ever been in. It smelled like leather and had seats that looked freshly upholstered. The radio was turned on to some kind of news station. The window on her side didn't have a switch and appeared to be glued shut. There was no handle and no hole or mark where it had been ripped out. The surface was smooth, almost like it never existed.

Rumlow got in after her, pushing her further against the non-door. The driver took off as soon as he was inside. He pulled out so sharply, it knocked Rumlow into her. The force bashed her elbow into the window, and Jane nearly bit through her tongue to stop the tears from flowing. When they evened out, Rumlow didn't move. It was only the two of them back here, but he made every effort to take up space. He still had the gun, too.

They took a back road, exiting onto a busy DC street. Jane's eyes had to adjust to the sudden burst of sunlight. She'd been in the HYDRA base for two days, but it felt like a hundred years had gone by since she had last seen the world. All around her were the banalities of everyday life. A woman holding hands with her child, a couple eating at a cafe, a man with a briefcase hailing a taxi. It all passed before her eyes like a movie reel. She couldn't rewind or fast forward, and it would never stop.

She glanced at Rumlow, who was studying the front seat and stroking the top of the gun. It was just sitting there in his lap. She could reach out and take it, and then probably lose that hand. When he turned to look, she pretended to be staring into space. He gave her a catlike smile.

"Don't worry, Doc, pretty soon, I'll be out of your hair."

"Bet that makes you happy," Jane muttered.

"I don't know. These last few days have been pretty interesting," he snorted. "I might even miss you."

"Yeah, well, the feeling is not mutual."

She said it softly, but she knew he heard her. With a chuckle he went back to looking out his window, one leg crossed over the other in a state of total relaxation. Instead of looking at him and getting madder, Jane studied her side of the car. The lock, if there was one, wasn't visible from this position and she couldn't risk looking too for one. The windows, as she'd suspected, were sealed with some kind of super glue. The glass itself was at least an inch thick and probably bulletproof. The windows were tinted, so she couldn't signal for help. Would it be worth the risk if she could?

As they reached a crosswalk, the reality of the situation fully sunk in. She was their puppet. They were sending her halfway across the world to try and make sense of cosmic forces they couldn't hope to understand, let alone control. Even if she did everything they said and made no form of resistance, the odds of dying in a sudden pulse blast while tinkering with the scepter were higher than she cared to think about.

She would never see Bucky again. Never find out what they did to him. Would he forget all about her like he had everything else? Go back to being their slave? HYDRA had taken the man he once was and they could do it again. They would do it again.

They hit a red light. This street was less crowded than the previous ones, but that still left them five cars down the line. The driver grumbled, smacking the wheel. Jane counted to thirty, but they still hadn't moved. The number of cars in the opposite direction was growing and the light seemed content to let them go on their merry way for as long as they needed. As the driver muttered in Russian and Rumlow twiddled his thumbs, Jane watched all the many people going about their lives. There was an ice cream shop down one street. She could go for some rocky road right about now. They weren't bound to have much by way of ice cream in the Sokovian base and Pierce had said they should feed her.

Something caught her eye farther up the road. Squinting, she made out a highway several hundred feet away. A few cars were stopped and there were men walking freely into the street. Most of them were armed. Jane couldn't hear it, but she was pretty sure they were shooting. They approached an upturned car, one man walking several steps ahead of the rest. He wielded a massive weapon Jane couldn't name. Ahead of them, for a split second, was a flash of blonde hair.

'It can't be…'

She pressed her hands into the glass, forgetting to be inconspicuous. Rumlow hadn't moved and the driver was too busy cursing at traffic to notice her. Before her eyes, the leader began firing rockets at the car. A red-haired woman leaped over the divider, barely escaping the blast. As she ran, they fired at her, peppering cars with bullets but never quite reaching her. The man with the rocket launcher fired again, knocking her and a random car off the bridge. For a moment, before he lowered the gun, his silver arm was visible.

"Finally! Jesus."

Then they were moving.

The highway disappeared behind a restaurant awning. Jane turned her head all the way around in the futile hope of getting one last look. She straightened herself out before Rumlow asked questions, fighting to control her breathing and keep her face impassive. The problem was her eyes said everything her mouth couldn't. She hid them beneath a wall of hair. To anyone else, it might look like she was sleeping.

She took deep breaths until the urge to scream was gone. Another block zipped by. They were pulling her further and further away from the fight. From Steve and Agent Romanov, if that really was her. Bucky was back there, his marionette strings pulled taut. He was about to kill his best friend in the world on the orders of a monster.

And she had to do something.

There was no more waiting or biding her time. Pierce could hang from his fat fingers. She was getting out of this car no matter what. Even if she lost a finger in the process. If she still had her head attached to her shoulders, she could overcome anything to reach Bucky.

'Unless he shoots you first,' her inner voice said.

It put a significant damper on her resolve. She almost missed it when they started slowing down and the driver cursed again. Two cars ahead was another red light. The line of cars in the opposite lane was just as long as the last one. They could be sitting here for a full minute at least. Sixty seconds to come up with a plan.

It seemed impossible. Jane knew if she panicked, her mind would go blank and she wouldn't be able to remember her own name let alone get an idea. She bowed her head, closing her eyes and trying desperately to clear her mind. It was like trying to sweep up a junkyard. Every time she banished one intrusive thought, four more popped in to remind her how hopeless it all was.

What was she going to do, fight him? Try to grab the gun and threaten the driver? Bang on the glass and scream until someone heard her?

The more she thought, the more she wanted to cry. Pressure built in her skull and she cursed herself for her weakness. After all this time, all that effort to be strong, she was going to break her promise.

Unless…

Jane doubled over. It was as if the weight of her plan was a physical force pressing into her back. Her body convulsed with dry sobs. Burying her face in her hands, she shivered with anticipation. She had to fling herself all the way around to aim at Rumlow's lap, making him jump

"What the-" he backed away as much as he could, which wasn't much at all. "Hey, back off, would you?"

"I can't do this," Jane whimpered, bending lower. "I can't… I can't…"

"Geez, you were like a rock two minutes ago," Rumlow snorted. The driver joined him. "Guess there is a breaking point after all."

He tried to move his leg, but Jane followed. Her nose was right up to his knee and she could smell gunpowder on his pants. The stench made her cough. She did it a few more times for effect. Rumlow groaned and said something to the driver. Jane's ears were ringing too loud to hear it. Any second now, the light would change and they'd be moving again. It was now or never.

Without anything in her stomach, she had to hope the bile that had been simmering in her throat for days would be enough. She shoved her fingers all the way down, gagging twice. Then her stomach heaved and her back arched with the spew. The colorless liquid splashed on Rumlow's lap, making him scream like a girl. Jane had no time to laugh. In a few seconds, he'd come back to himself and grab her. She couldn't let that happen.

Instead of slowing down, the world was on fast forward. Jane leaped over him. Grabbed the door. Unlocked it. Tumbled out on her hands and knees. Jumped back up. In a burst of reckless inspiration, she ran not away, but back to the car, snatched the gun off the seat, and sprinted down the street.

Rumlow kept screaming. It faded for a time before picking up again. He was chasing her. Though her throat burned and her heart cried out in agony, Jane picked up the pace, weaving through crowds of people to put distance between them. She made a detour through the outdoor seating of a small restaurant, knocking into a waitress and barely able to say 'sorry.'

Leaping over the fence like an Olympic runner, she turned a corner. The wrong one. People were running now, spilling out of the next block over. A cop car zoomed by, sirens blaring. One explosion later, and Jane couldn't hear them anymore. More explosions followed. There was gunfire everywhere. Her fear was dulled, as was her basic survival instinct. If she kept in this direction, she'd reach the curb. Then she could cross the street and-

"Gotcha!"

Rumlow clamped down on her arm. Jane yelped as she was spun around, made to face him and his noxious grin.

"You really think that was smart," he growled, reaching for the gun. "You've got some balls, Doc."

Jane kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. He gasped and let go, falling to his knees.

"So do you," she said. Then she was off again.

There was no one else in the street. They'd all fled right after the first explosion. A few cars sped by and Jane had to race to avoid getting hit by a truck. It honked at her as she narrowly missed scraping the front tire. Her feet pounded the sidewalk with the same intensity that bullets flew. She hadn't heard any in a while, but she couldn't let that slow her down.

She didn't turn to look for Rumlow. The gun weighed heavy in her hands, her finger grazing the trigger guard. Jumping onto the curb, Jane rushed to the highway overpass. All the cars had stopped. People were getting out to investigate the situation and tend to those who'd been injured in the attack. Jane craned her head all the way up, trying to steady her vision enough to see who was up there.

None of them was wearing black. They had no weapons. A few of them pointed at the woman stupid enough to run toward the danger instead of away. Jane passed a car that had been caved in, almost like something had fallen on it. Or someone.

"Steve!" she called out. "Steve, where are you?"

In the smoke and rubble, he was impossible to see. The sound of skin on skin and metal on metal guided her around an overturned car. Jane stumbled behind an abandoned van, arms over her head.

At first, she thought she was too late. The holes in the gravel, the little fires spreading. They might have moved on, or they could be trapped under one of the cars unable to move. Then the van shook as if hit with the force of a train. Jane shrieked and fell to her knees, eyes clenched shut. When nothing happened to her, she looked up again. Steve and Bucky were exchanging punches in the street. The shield was embedded into a truck and ignored for the moment. Each hit was a killing blow. Nothing was held back.

They were so fast, Jane could hardly see them. She darted into the street. "STEVE!"

Steve's head turned. His eyes widened. "Jane?" Then Bucky punched him.

"Stop fighting!" Jane screamed, rushing after them. "Steve, you have to stop!"

He had recovered from the hit and thrown Bucky through an empty store window. Jane recoiled at the sound of shattered glass, but before she could forget herself and run to him, Steve had her in his arms. "Oh my God. Oh, thank God. Jane, what happened to-"

"Steve, you can't fight him," Jane shouted, wrenching him back.

He shook his head. "Who? The soldier? He's trying to kill us."

"No, they're making him do it. He wouldn't do this on his own. They're controlling him!"

"What are you talking about?" Steve looked into the shop, where movement could be heard amongst the broken glass. "Jane, you have to get out of here. It's too dangerous. You need to-"

"IT'S BUCKY!" Her scream ripped through the chaos, the distant call of sirens, and the cries of terrified citizens who weren't used to superhero fights in their city. It destroyed whatever Steve was about to say. His mouth was stuck on broken hinges, unable to move in either direction.

"Wha-" he managed.

Jane didn't let him try again. "Bucky is the Winter Soldier, Steve. He's alive."

"That… no, that's… it can't be."

"It is!" Jane shook him, not caring how insane she sounded. "It is. It's him. Look at him!"

A crunch of glass drew their attention to the window. The soldier had risen, standing tall without a scratch in him, save a shallow cut on the side of his cheek. He didn't jump back into the fight, his laser focus seemingly dulled for the moment. Instead of the empty eyes, there was a single spark of life to be found.

It was aimed at Steve's hands, clamped tightly around Jane's arms. The way he held her in a near embrace. Bucky's whole face darkened. Jane thought she heard an animalistic growl. Then he pounced on Steve, knocking him across the street. In the blink of an eye, Bucky was on him. He took Steve by the throat, throwing him against a truck. This time, even through the mask, Jane heard him clearly.

"Mine."

"Bucky, no!"

His eyes flicked to her, so suddenly she almost missed it. As quick a motion as it was, it was enough for Steve to grab his face and shove him. Bucky was down, groaning in apparent pain, but Steve wasn't done yet. He charged like a bull, violently tugging on the mask. It came off, and Bucky went flying.

It wasn't a hard impact, though that did little for Jane's crushing fear. He managed a mid-air flip and landed on his feet. The cracks in the street worsened, crawling like roots through the asphalt. They absorbed the damage Bucky didn't take. He got back up. Like that had been no more than a playful slap. He turned, his face unadorned.

Steve was frozen. Jane didn't see the shock overtake him, but she felt his body weaken. All the fight was sucked out of him, leaving him smaller than she'd ever seen him before. If the shield was in his hand, he would've dropped it. His arms were limp, skin pale. The dirt smudges on his face were all the more apparent. As was the fact that he probably hadn't eaten much these last few days.

"Bu…" he said. Though he didn't fall, his knees were shaking. They were both still standing but the fight was over.

No, not quite, Jane realized. This was just a lull in the action. The soldier still had a mission. He wouldn't stand for more than a moment, plagued by confusion and near memories. Cold determination fell over him. He drew his gun. Jane's stolen one nearly fell through her sweat-drenched fingers. He didn't even look at her.

A man with mechanical wings swooped in, kicking Bucky off his feet. He landed on his side, grunting in pain or surprise. Jane started to run to him, but an explosion cut her off, blowing an already totaled car to bits. Agent Romanov, leaning heavily against a car, could barely keep the rocket launcher steady. Her eyes were glazed and she didn't seem to notice the random civilian who had just stepped onto the battlefield.

All at once, it was over. There were more sirens. Black cars approaching. Jane was jerked back, away from Steve who had yet to pull himself together. Reaching for him was impossible. Yelling would be worse. An unmarked black car screamed onto the scene, an entire SWAT team spilling out.

They surrounded Steve and his battered teammates, and that was the last thing Jane saw before Bucky pulled her through the smoke and the shadows swallowed them up.