Control

Happy New Years

Chapter Seven

New Year - 1947

I remember the date because it was January first. I remember the date because the men were drinking. They were reveling.

I remember the date because it had been six months since I had last seen James Barnes.

I remember the date because it had been three months since Dr. Zola informed me that I was going to be moving back to the United States with him to continue in my role as his personal secretary.

I remember the date because no one remembered the Winter Soldier. No one talked about him. No one seemed to care.

But, I did. I cared.

It has been five months since I heard the asset even whispered about and even longer since I had seen any communication regarding him. Doctor Zola has not asked me my feelings on the matter and I know better than to bring him up; if I do, it will be seen as a weakness and I will be punished.

There is surely a deeper reason that Zola brought me to a S.H.I.E.L.D. base in New Jersey to work with him.

If I had to hazard a guess it would be to further separate me from the Asset.

I have tried to dehumanize him in my head by referring to him only as "The Asset" and not "James" or "Bucky", though I will admit that this is difficult for me to do.

I know that part of the reason Dr. Zola has brought me to the United States is because I am not someone that S.H.I.E.L.D. would suspect of working with HYDRA. Being that I was simply living in Russia under the guise of visiting my late husband's family, I raise no suspicion on the S.H.I.E.L.D base.

I am small, my skin so pale I may as well be translucent, with cornsilk hair that has now grown down past my shoulders and easily curls into a more modern style. I look frail and unassuming, especially around the people of S.H.I.E.L.D. While there were more women here than there had ever been in the Bunker, it only succeeded to make me so inconspicuous that I simply faded into the background.

No one bothers to glance twice at me.

"Miss Barnes?" I snap from my reverie as I hear someone call my name. Well, my name as it is now. I had decided to use a different name now that I was back in the United States. I couldn't quite explain why, but, using "Sokolov" no longer felt...right.

Whenever I said my late husband's name, it left a taste in my mouth I couldn't describe. There was a gnawing guilt in the pit of my stomach that I didn't quite understand. I could never quite pinpoint when this became the case, but I determined that it was better to find a name that simply...didn't make me physically ill...

And, thus, "Anna Sokolov" was no more.

I was now "Anna Barnes."

To be fair, I was uncertain if I was having a crisis of identity or a crisis of conscience.

Startled, I look up to see Dr. Zola calling to me. He smiles at me, something that was becoming more commonplace now - and also more concerning. He was much less cruel here than he had been in Russia. I suppose that part of it could be to save face with the Americans. But, even when he had me accompany him to meetings with other HYDRA operatives, he was incredibly careful with me.

"Yes, Doctor Zola?" I quickly stand up, smoothing my skirts. When we came to the United States, I was "gifted" with an entirely new wardrobe that Zola felt was more befitting of a personal secretary. Suits with skirts in a variety of colors. Dresses that were impressively expensive, some even made from silk. I was given new shoes and neck scarves, perfumes, make-up...everything that I could ever desire. It was almost as if I were being bribed to stay with him...as if my compliance was being bought.