I was exhausted.

For my first full day, we'd toured the entire facility, and I still felt like there was so much I hadn't seen. There were rooms full of screens with dozens of agents talking on headsets, rooms with mechanical arms and welding sparks flying, rooms with so many weapons I felt like I was on a military base. It seemed to go on forever. Hangars, shooting ranges, labs, even an extensive medical wing for mission or training injuries. Natasha and Steve had been more than accommodating, staying with me through dinner. I'd met a few other Avengers, ones I recognized from either the news or online. It felt like a strange, high-tech college dorm, with ultra-powerful roommates. Not that I knew what that was like.

I'd spent what should have been my college years in living hell. Not something I wanted to think about at that particular moment, though. I was just glad to be back in my room. Just glad to have a room to call my own, really. I twisted on the bed, my back sinking into the plush bedding. The feeling of a comfortable bed after a hot shower would never lose that euphoric feeling. Not when I'd gone so long without it before.

This room was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. Soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the walls. The bed felt good beneath me, oddly similar to those of the luxurious suites I'd grown so accustomed to in Vegas over the past few weeks.

A shiver tore through my body as an unwelcome thought reminded me of the cold, rickety hospital bed I'd spent so many nights sleeping on before my escape. How long ago was that? Years? Decades? I shook my head, willing the thoughts to fall out of my ears and never return. There was so much I still didn't remember.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on something good. A friend. Natasha had assured me this was a safe place, but could I really trust it? Could I trust her?

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried again to silence the doubts swirling in my mind.

This room, it's like a cage that's too comfortable to be real. How did I end up here? How did Natasha convince me to trust her, to trust them? I've spent so long avoiding people, avoiding connections. And now, I'm here, surrounded by... superheroes? I'm supposed to believe they have no other motive?

She said I don't have to work with them, I don't have to fight. Why would she say that if it isn't true? To get me to come with her. God, I'm so dumb. Of course they'll want me to fight. Why else would they want me here at all. The only thing I can do is fight.

At least if I'm here, I'd be fighting for the good guys this time. At least, I hope so.

Natasha, she's different. Right? I saw it in her eyes. She understands what it means to fight against the darkness. She told me the Avengers are a family, a team. She had no one before them. I have no one now. Can I really have that too? Would they accept me if they knew…knew everything?

Closing my eyes tighter, I try to push away the memories of the experiments, the pain, the fear. Flashes of white, hot anger and blinding rage.

Natasha said they'd protect me. She said I could start anew here. But how can I trust these people I barely know? What if this is just another trap, another illusion to get me to do someone's bidding?

I feel a lump forming in my throat.

I have to give it a chance, don't I? I have to believe in something. Believe in someone. Maybe this room, this bed, is more than just a comfortable cage. Maybe it's a sanctuary, a haven where I can rebuild what HYDRA took away from me.

Maybe I can have a life here.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I'm not alone anymore. I'm not that scared, fragile girl they took to their labs so long ago. I'm not the angry, violent assassin who escaped them.

I'm Charlotte Rossi, and I survived. I survived all of it. I survived for a reason.

Maybe, just maybe, I can learn to trust these Avengers. Maybe I can find a new purpose here, a reason to fight back.

As sleep started to claim me, I took a shuddering breath, making a promise to myself:

I'll give them a chance. I'll trust them. For Natasha. For me.

And with that, I let the darkness take me, hoping that when I woke, I'd find the strength to face this new chapter of my life, whatever it may bring.

The night had been turbulent, the remnants of my nightmares still lingering in the corners of my mind like cobwebs. I had always found solace in the quiet hours before dawn, where the world seemed to hold its breath, and the horrors of the past felt momentarily distant.

Slipping out of bed, I padded through the dark common room to the balcony, my bare feet cold against the smooth tiles. Like everything here, the balcony was pristine and expanse. It stretched in a large semi-circle, boasting the best view of the entire compound. Except maybe the one you'd get from any of their impressive aircraft.

The first hints of sunrise painted the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a serene glow over the lake. As I settled into a chair, the tranquility of the morning wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. Nightmares weren't new to me, but I never quite learned to quickly bounce back from them. There was still a cold sheen of sweat on my chest as I leaned back, taking in my surroundings.

My attention was drawn to the trail surrounding the compound's lake, where a figure emerged from the early morning mist. I tensed out of instinct. He moved with a surprising amount of grace for someone of his size, every step purposeful and powerful. Even from a distance, I recognized him - James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

There was an undeniable magnetism about him, something in the way he carried himself, a nearly predatory confidence that was both captivating and intimidating. A shiver ran through me as I watched him turn a corner and disappear from sight.

I knew I'd see him eventually, it was inevitable. Some part of me found peace in the kindness of the rest of the team. If there was going to be an issue with my being here, surely I'd have picked up on it by now. Why would they have even brought me here if anyone had a problem with it?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice Steve approaching until his shadow fell over me. He held out a steaming mug of coffee, the aroma rich and inviting. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, his blue eyes kind and understanding.

I accepted the coffee with a grateful nod, the warmth seeping into my hands as I wrapped them around the mug. "Thank you," I murmured, taking a tentative sip.

"Want something to do today?" Steve's voice was casual, inviting. "I have a training session with some of the agents. You're welcome to watch. Might give you a sense of what we do here."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the prospect of witnessing their training firsthand, but cautious about any hidden motive.

"Don't worry, I'm not trying to rope you into participating." Steve lowered his own mug. "I don't like ulterior motives. If there's ever something I think, you'll know it. I'm just a guy who was new here at one point too, I know the first few weeks can be a little…aimless."

Chuckling, I nodded. "Yeah, you could say that. I was hoping for some kind of activities list, like at summer camp."

"You went to summer camp?" He looked incredulous.

"I've seen movies."

"Ah," He sipped his coffee. "That's where I learned about -" He gestured vaguely. "Everything, I suppose."

There was a moment of silence as he decided if he was going to address the obvious.

"I had a lot to catch up on, too." He spoke softly. "For a while, I had to write down everything new about the world that I wanted to remember. I watched a lot of movies, probably not historically accurate, but I definitely enjoyed learning that way." He smiled, looking back at me. "Not a lot of people can relate. Just know I'm here."

"Thanks, Steve." I pressed my lips together in a small smile.

"For what it's worth, you're much more well-adjusted than I ever was. You must catch on quick."

"You have no idea."

We leisurely finished our coffee before going to our respective rooms to get dressed. I had returned to my room to find a small pile of folded black clothes on the bed beneath a handwritten note.

'In case you don't feel like wearing sequins all week - xo, Nat'

I grinned, pulling out a set of black workout tights and a matching long sleeved top. It was chilly out here, which I guess was to be expected from upstate New York in October. Not nearly the balmy temperatures of Nevada. I did a quick change, laced up my sneakers, and met Steve back in the common room so we could make our way to the training wing.

The moment I stepped inside, I was awestruck by the high-tech setup. The room was a marvel of modern design, sleek and functional, with state-of-the-art exercise equipment lining the walls. Rows of punching bags hung from the ceiling, several sparring rings placed throughout the massive room.

The sound of bodies moving and the echo of instructions filled the air. Agents in SHIELD uniforms were scattered across the training mats, engaged in various forms of combat. Steve led me to a vantage point where I could observe the proceedings without being in the way.

A small group of six agents stood around one of the mats, waiting for him. They paused their stretching to greet him as we walked up.

"Team, this is Charlotte. She's going to be around for a while, I trust you'll all make her feel welcome." Steve's words were met with nods and various greetings towards me, to which I smiled and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. Maybe they'll think I'm just someone's long-lost cousin, here to visit for a few months.

Steve's movements were a symphony of precision and power as he demonstrated different combat techniques to the agents. His punches were lightning-fast, his blocks seamless. Each motion was deliberate, a testament to his expertise. The way he moved, the way he fought, it was both beautiful and awe-inspiring. I could tell he was pulling his punches, using as much effort to go easy on the agents as they were to try and land a single blow on him. Super soldier strength was no joke.

I watched, captivated, as he guided the agents, offering corrections and encouragement in equal measure. There was a quiet intensity about him, a dedication to his craft that was impossible to miss. At that moment, I understood why he was the leader of the Avengers, why he was Captain America. He was confident, not arrogant. Kind, yet firm. He had their respect but he so clearly respected them as well. He was the kind of guy you'd want to follow into battle.

As the training session continued, I found myself drawn into the rhythm of their movements, the energy in the room palpable. Despite myself, I felt familiar patterns happening within me. My eyes tracked their movements, clocking every position, every wince, every shift of weight from one foot to the other. With an almost computerized precision, my mind began to catalog the fighting style of all six agents and the super soldier right in front of me.

Later that day, I retreated to the workout facility in the Avengers' building. It was smaller, but equally as nice. There were small modifications, clearly for accommodating superhumans. For starters, the ceilings were much higher, likely to accommodate for those who could clear a 30 foot tree in a single jump. The weights ranged far beyond the standard 45 lb plates and 100 lb dumbbells, which was where the other facility capped out.

I punched a few buttons on the treadmill and worked up to a moderate pace. The row of treadmills faced the lake, already one of my favorite things to look at. I focused on the trees, the wind rustling through them. I controlled my breathing, thankful for the peace and quiet. The solitude lasted a good half hour before I heard the door slide open.

"Hey stranger," Natasha's familiar rasp announced her presence.

"Long time no see," I tugged the safety cord out of the treadmill and let myself slide off the back, landing on my feet.

"Heard you got to see Rogers in action today?" She strode over and took a seat on the bench nearest me.

I shrugged. "The basket weaving class was full."

"Well, if you want to see the more exciting training sessions, I help out with weapons and hand-to-hand a few days a week." She winked.

"If I had known that, I wouldn't have wasted my first training session on Steve!" I mocked a tantrum.

"Hey, super-soldier hearing here." Steve strode through the door, right on cue.

"Beat it, Rogers, we're having a girl talk."

Dropping his bag, Steve pulled out a roll of tape and began wrapping his hands for what I assume would be a round of sparring, either with the punching bag or an actual person. "You're just mad I set the bar so high with Charlotte's first training experience." He grinned.

Raising my eyebrow, I watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and grinned. There was so clearly something between them, it took me less than 48 hours to pick up on it. I wondered if it was something they'd explored yet, or if they lived in denial.

Before I could make a snappy remark, the doors opened again and in strode the one man I wasn't sure I was ready to see yet.

Blue eyes snapped up to look at me, and he stopped in his tracks as the door slid shut behind him. Based on the way his jaw clenched, I don't think he was quite ready to see me either. The world felt like it slowed to half speed, I felt my thoughts get muddled. I was slipping away from reality. No, please no, not here, not now -

White hot light exploded in my skull as I collapsed to my knees, fighting against myself.

"Charlotte!" Natasha was at my side instantly, holding my arm.

"Stop…Me…" My breathing was labored, I spat each word out through gritted teeth as I felt myself losing the internal battle for control.

"What do you mean, what's going on?" She gripped my upper arm tightly, looking at Steve in concern. He hovered over me, halfway crouched.

Then it all went black.

Steve looked from Natasha to Bucky, still frozen by the door. Charlotte had collapsed to her knees, face contorted in pain. In the few seconds since she'd cried out, sweat had already broken on the back of her neck.

"Stop…Me…" Her voice was somewhere between a growl and a plea.

"What do you mean, what's going on?" Natasha asked, looking up at Steve. Before anyone could react, Charlotte sent them both tumbling backwards. In one fluid movement, she'd rolled forward and closed the distance between her and Bucky. Her momentum carried her from the roll straight into a fighting stance. Before Nat or Steve could scramble to their feet, she'd swung into a roundhouse kick straight at Bucky's head.

He ducked, eyes wide with surprise but movements instinctive. Charlotte went straight from her kick into a crouch, swinging her leg to sweep his out from under him. He landed on his back and rolled away from her as she advanced. Left hook, right jab, knee to the ribs, Bucky narrowly blocked each one. She was quick.

For a split second, Bucky took his eyes off of her fists and looked at her face. A chill nearly paralyzed him as he saw the blank expression on her face, the unseeing and glassy eyes. His pause was costly, and he felt the full weight of that when her foot collided with the side of his head. He spat blood on the ground just as Steve's feet stepped between him and Charlotte.

Steve blocked her jabs as rapidly as they came, with Natasha running up from behind.

"Get the hell out of here!" He yelled at Bucky, still on the ground as blood pooled from the cut on his eyebrow. "Go!"

Bucky didn't question it, rolling to his feet and sprinting out the door.

Natasha came from above and wrapped her legs around Charlotte's neck, throwing her to the ground. Without releasing her, she continued to squeeze. Steve dropped down, pinning her arms as she writhed against Natasha. After a violent resistance, she went limp as she finally passed out.

"What…the hell just happened." Nat fell back on her elbows, breathing hard.

"I have no idea," Steve held a hand out, helping her to stand. "Do you think she needs medical?"

"Well, I don't think we should just go tuck her into bed after this." Natasha rubbed her sleeve across her forehead, wiping sweat off. "You go check on Barnes, I'll call up to the room and see if anyone's here to help me take her in."

Nodding, Steve took off in a jog after Bucky, following the trail of blood splattered on the ground.