𝐈𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭.
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The infamous Winter Soldier and Morana are assigned on a mission once more, but things don't go as planned for them this time. To survive, they confront emoti...
I have a strange sensation as soon as my eyes open that I've never experienced before. Comfort. As I look around the room, I see the large, white windows and the morning sun shining through them. My body hurts as I get out of the bed I was laying on earlier. I'm leaning on my feet, peering around the room in confusion, and every bone in my body feels stiff.
The walls wear slight mould, leaking water, and cracked paint. The bed stands on its last leg and is covered by a thin piece of material, covering the broken mattress. The door is slightly open, revealing the stained wooden floor leading to an open kitchen and living room.
As I make my way into the room, my mind wanders with questions yet no answers. Where am I? How did I get here? What day is it? Am I still in America? Who is heavy breathing in the living room?
Winter is seated on the couch, hunched over in thought, with his hands in front of his face. Next to him, a clock on the wall ticks through the suffocating air. My steps on the wooden flooring alert him as I get closer to him. As soon as he notices me, he begins to relax.
"Mornin'"
"Morning, Winter."
He gets up from the couch and brings me a stack of neatly folded clothing that was sitting next to him. I see a pair of black jeans, some scuffed white socks, and a long-sleeved dark blue shirt when I look at the pile. I raise my eyebrows and turn to face him once more.
"I found some spare clothes for both of us in the wardrobe in the bedroom. These were the only ones that weren't dirty." He explains.
"Thank you."
Before I can put on the clothing, I turn around to face Winter and start returning from the bedroom. He gives me a dazed and puzzled expression. I remain motionless as I consider my next query.
"How did we get here?" I ask.
"You passed out from the blood loss and exhaustion in the woods. I carried you and got us here."
"Thank you."
"No need, Morana. You'd do the same for me."
He walks slowly over to me and places his hand over mine which sits on top of the pile of clothes I hold. Our eyes hold the stare at each other, smiling widely.
"Go get changed, we have somewhere we need to be." He states.
I enter the bedroom once more, remove the gear that sticks to my perspirant skin and lay it on the bed. I see my reflection in the mirror that is hanging on the wall as I put the clothes on. It has scars, bloodstains, and wounds that have previously been treated and cleaned. Winter gives me a black cap and a pair of sunglasses as I finish up and leave the room. We both put them on and leave the gloomy apartment while concealing our identities.
We keep pace with one another as we stroll along the street, heads bowed. We move quickly through the masses, being mindful of the few bystanders' glances. Winter halts in front of a large building and scans the sign over the main door.
The Smithsonian.
I try to make sense of where we are and why we are here as we make our way within the complex. In the rooms, I don't recognise anything or anyone. We browse displays about various animals, historical events, and significant figures. He leads us through all of those chambers, but then he immediately enters the "Captain America" exhibit.
I recognise the image of the man on a banner that is hanging as we pass it. He was the enemy who wore a dark blue suit and a circular shield, as far as I can recall. The man from the river that we rescued. We try to avoid the onlookers' lingering stares out of paranoia. We move carefully through the informational displays while trying to read and recall everything we can about him. But it's more difficult than I want it to be.
We enter a room after passing through a hallway where an old, blurry video of the shielded man laughing alongside another man who unnervingly looks like Winter is playing. He does, however, appear younger and has shorter hair. As the video plays, it displays their familiarity with one another as they converse and laugh.
We both turn to face each other at that point and realise that Winter knew the person we were fighting. In addition to knowing him, Winter was born close to a century ago. The man we came close to killing was friends with him.
The video shifts from Winter and the man to the two and a young girl just as Winter starts to lead me away. I pause in my steps when I get sight of her. She has her hair bouncing around her shoulders and is holding a purse while sporting a flowing dress that reaches her knees. She has a gentle expression on her face that exudes comfort and relaxation. We hear a voice start to explain the footage to us.
"Alongside her best friends, Beverly fought the war as an agent. She was an inspiration for women all over the world to stand up against the norms for women and be independent. However, whilst fighting with her best friend and lover, she fatally fell off a train on a mission to stop the Nazis."
Winter stands beside me, holding his tight grip on my arm. As the voice speaks, his hold gets tighter, telling me he's nervous and on edge. But, we continue to stand and listen.
"Unfortunately, she died on impact. She died for her country alongside her long-time lover, James Barnes."
Another clip from the film shows a group of men strolling through a forest with their rifles clutched tightly to their chests and snow crunching beneath their feet. My eyes turn to Winter, who is displaying a sad and perplexed expression. His eyes are fixed on the screen, his brows furrowed together. He looks over at me, and I see the softening of his features. Finally, it sinks in.
