Monster

Two

Everything left of the triskelion was in shambles. I did manage to make it through the interrogation process. But only because I was a level one agent, openly fought against Hydra with a sparkly pink knife, and had a history with Colonel Talbot of US Special Forces. I'd been cleared quickly, though I wasn't convinced they weren't keeping an eye on me just to be sure.

After the fall of SHIELD, I had difficulty finding another job. Tony Stark offered me a position almost immediately after the event, and I'd considered it a great deal. But I wasn't ready to leave my life in DC just yet, and I wasn't sold on the idea of being handed a job out of charity. Accepting the position would take me to New York and thus closer to my sister. I wasn't ready for her to see me struggling just to keep my head up.

I still had a mortgage to pay, though, and a car and all the other things that came with being a semi-responsible adult. And even though the triskelion was swarmed with military personnel and construction crews, I decided to go back for what was left of my stuff. If only because I'd need my laptop to help me find a new job. Or at least that's what I told myself when I got the idea.

The front courtyard was empty. I remembered how the sunlight would sparkle through the glass ceiling in the mornings. The place would be crawling with agents and office personnel. It felt so lonely when the only other lifeforms were the birds that made their way through the shattered ceiling.

Two uniformed soldiers stood in the front lobby when I stepped in. I made a move for the elevator bank, and one of them jumped forward to block me. I was half a foot shorter than him, and he stood with his hand hovering over his gun as if he meant to intimidate me. Because we both knew he wouldn't get away with turning it on me.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked.

"To get my stuff."

"What stuff? There's nothing left. How'd you get cleared?"

I looked him straight in the eye. I was far from intimidated and running on nothing but coffee and old crackers. I hadn't gotten much sleep, and the caffeine only made me jittery and irritated. I'd waited long enough to come back for my things, and I had nothing to hide. I may have done Hydra's dirty work, but I hadn't done it intentionally.

"I'm former agent Johanna Hayes. I'm also Special Forces and your superior. I was personally cleared by Colonel Talbot, and I came to collect my personal belongings. If there's a problem, please give the Colonel a call. I'm sure he'll want to hear all about how I came to pick up family photos."

He huffed and turned to his companion. The other guard was far less interested in me. He lounged behind the security desk with his legs propped up like he was about to take a nap. He shrugged and didn't bother to reopen his eyes after an initial once over. I didn't find them intimidating, and they apparently felt the same about me.

"Talbot already cleared her. Let her go. He's too busy to care anyway," he said. The soldier turned back to me and then stepped back.

"We'll be watching you—Agent," he said. I held my head high and pushed past him.

Even though I had a desk job and did nothing but paperwork all day, my office was hit hard. A good chunk of the files was compromised. The government was scrambling to assemble everything and link whatever they could to Hydra. Papers were scattered across the floors, and the office was eerily silent. Sunlight poured in through the broken glass, disturbing the dust beginning to settle over the once spotless cubicle bank.

I had to dance around the rubble and mess just to get to my cubicle closest to the windows. Then I plopped down and looked down at the courtyard below. It's where I was sitting the day Captain America crashed through the ceiling in the courtyard and managed to hop right back up on his feet. That was also the moment I started to suspect something big was about to happen. My hunch was correct. And now I was out of a job and had even less to look forward to than usual.

I took another sip of my coffee and got to work emptying drawers and tossing useless files and papers onto the floor. I dug through my desk and sorted out what belonged to me, what didn't, what I wanted to keep, and what I didn't care about.

Two other soldiers came around and questioned me a bit more, but they quickly determined I was no threat and let me get back to work. I had my hands in the bottom drawer of my desk when my phone began to buzz. So I pulled it out and looked down at the text from an unknown number.

"Agent Hayes, this is Commander Hill. I have a mission for you," the text said. I looked up to see if the soldiers were watching me, but they were distracted by a personal conversation about basketball.

I'd seen Hill several times during my employment with SHIELD, but I'd never formally met her. The woman always appeared cold and indifferent. I was so low on the SHIELD hierarchy that we never had a reason to cross paths beyond occasionally sharing an elevator, if we even did that. I would have been willing to bet she didn't even know my name until now. My curiosity was piqued. There was no more SHIELD. What reason could she possibly have to contact me directly?

"I'm listening," I texted back. Her response came just a second later.

"Meet me in the basement in interrogation room four. Take the stairs, don't use your badge."

"I'll be right there."

My phone went silent again. I stood and swept a strand of brown hair out of my face. I didn't know what Hill wanted from me, but there was a possibility the person on the other end wasn't Hill at all. Whoever it was referred to me as an agent even though I was unemployed. And my unemployment checks really weren't going to cut it for much longer. So I swung my now heavy bag over my shoulder and left.

I never had a reason to go to the interrogation rooms before. I'd toured the building several times, but my job was easy, and the doors were usually set to deny my access. They apparently hadn't changed because someone was waiting for me when I stepped out of the stairwell.

"Hayes," he said once I'd shoved the door open. I nodded to him. I recognized him from the battle against Hydra.

"Wilson," I replied.

He opened the door to let me into the hallway, and then I followed him down the windowless corridor until he reached room four. He gave the door a quick tap with his knuckles and then pushed it open. I nearly tripped over my feet when I saw the group waiting for me inside. Agent Hill was standing at the end of a single aluminum table. Agent Romanoff sat on the chair beside her, and Captain Rogers took up the space on her other side. I felt like a lamb being led into a wolf's den.

"Have a seat," Hill instructed. Wilson closed the door behind me, and I took the seat across from Rogers.

"What's going on?" I asked as I set my heavy bag down against a table leg.

"We had a few questions for you."

"I've already been interrogated by Special Forces. Was there something wrong with the investigation?"

"Several things. But that's not why we asked you here. We wanted to know how you got cleared so fast."

"I got cleared because there was nothing on me. I was a level one agent. I was a glorified secretary. I had no access to Project Insight or Hydra databases."

"Are you working for Talbot now?"

"I'm not working for anyone. I'm jobless, remember?"

"Stark didn't offer you a position?"

"Of course he did. I didn't accept."

"Why not?" I almost answered. The room and the many pairs of eyes on me made me feel like I was being interrogated. But I had no lawyer with me. And I had no reason to give her what she wanted. She had no power over me anymore. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Last I checked, I don't work for you. If this is another interrogation, I'd like to call my lawyer before you ask anything else. Also, it usually helps just to be straight with me. I'm usually more compliant when people are honest. I'm not, and never was Hydra. My reason for not accepting Stark's offer is my business and mine alone."

"This isn't an interrogation," Rogers said from across the table. "It's an interview."

He was dressed like a civilian but still looked tense and ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble. He still had healing wounds and bruises on his face. He looked exhausted and uncomfortable in the tiny, confined room.

"An interview for what?" Then Hill slapped a manila folder on the metal table in front of me. There were very official-looking red stamps, but I couldn't understand a word. "I don't speak Russian."

"Romanoff provided translations. Open it," Hill instructed.

There was a large photo attached to the inside cover of the folder. A man with his eyes closed. The image was frosted, like he was frozen behind glass. There was a second one attached by a paperclip. This time it was of a man in an old military uniform. I ran my fingers over the glossy old print and removed it from the paperclip.

"Sergeant James Barnes," I read from the translations.

"Bucky," Rogers informed me. "I've always called him Bucky."

"AKA the Winter Soldier," Romanoff said. I cut my eyes to the woman slouched beside Captain Rogers.

"The Winter Soldier? What the hell is that?" The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place the memory.

"The Winter Soldier is a person, and if you accept this job, he's going to be paying your bills."

"What do you mean? Do you want me to find him?"

"No," Rogers said. "He's going to be impossible to find. And he's not—himself. He doesn't know who he is. Your mission isn't to find him because you won't succeed. Your mission would be to help me bring him out of the shadows."

I never would have thought someone like Captain America would ask for my help in a million years. Not when he had friends like Romanoff, Wilson, and Hill at his disposal. Or his gang of super buddies. I was good at my job, but I had no particular talents. I could fling knives at targets. I could stitch a wound with speed and accuracy, but I wasn't a killer. I couldn't even pull a trigger when my life depended on it. My only claim to fame was that I was on a first-name basis with Tony Stark. And even that wasn't by my own doing.

"James Barnes has undergone decades of brainwashing," Romanoff explained, stretching her arms out across the table. "Born in 1917 in Indiana. Father was a soldier. He and Rogers grew up together in Brooklyn. He was on active duty in the 107th when taken captive by Hydra. Rogers rescued him from a facility where they had been experimenting on captured soldiers. To recreate the serum that made Steve Captain America. He was a co-founder of the Howling Commandos. And up until two weeks ago, it was believed he was the only Commando to have died in service.

"From what we can tell, he's had his hand in numerous assassinations stretching back decades. Whatever they did to him, it's similar to what was done to Steve. This allowed him to survive a fall from a high altitude. But he's been in Hydra custody since 1945. So you can imagine what they had to do to him to get him to comply. He doesn't know who he is. He has a bionic metal arm. He's dangerous on a good day. But now he's probably confused on top of all that. And now that Hydra's been dismantled, he's gone AWOL.

"No one knows where he is or how to flush him out of hiding. We know that he's now aware of his past relationship with Steve. We think it's a possibility he might come back around to gather more information. We're hoping he'll try to reach out to Steve."

"So, what does this have to do with me?" I asked. Romanoff gave me a quick once-over as if coming to a conclusion about something.

"You worked under Daryl Russell, right?" I nodded slowly.

"He was my captain."

"Right. So what we need from you is an environment that allows Barnes to reach out to Steve safely. He's a soldier, an assassin. He's practically a ghost. And we think he'll tail Steve before he makes his move. He won't show up while Steve is surrounded by government officials. So we need a safe place. Somewhere Steve can routinely visit that Barnes won't have had prior knowledge of. Someplace with a minimal amount of government surveillance."

"I still don't understand what you want from me."

"Talbot doesn't view you as a threat. And as long as he believes that, he's not going to keep eyes on you. We need Steve to have a legitimate reason to visit our designated safe space regularly. It has to be private and dark. So we thought a girlfriend would be the perfect cover. And your house fits the bill. We can make it seem as welcoming and threat-free as Barnes needs to show himself. But we also needed someone we could trust. Someone with at least a basic understanding of medical procedures and military strategy. At the very least, someone who could hold her own in a fight."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling in disbelief. "Against a super-soldier with a robotic limb?" I asked. I ran my hands over my face. "You guys didn't read my files very thoroughly, did you? You know I can't shoot a gun. I'm barely over five feet tall. I don't know what you think I'm capable of, but I can assure you, I'm not what you're looking for."

"We don't want you to have access to weapons while undercover. Barnes will have them sniffed out in a second. We can probably let you keep the cute knife, though." I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed the ache from my eyes. "Chances are Barnes won't show up if Steve isn't there. But he won't show himself at Steve's apartment while he's being watched either. He'll follow him to someplace safe, and since Steve never goes anywhere, we thought a girlfriend might be a good enough reason to get him out of the house. It'll give him a place he can occasionally spend the night. Someplace he'd feel comfortable. Without government tabs or threats. Barnes will want to be able to get in and out without being noticed."

I opened my eyes and lifted the smaller photo again. "Why me?" I asked. "Why not another cleared agent? Why not Agent 13 or even Hill?"

"Because your house fits the environment we were looking for, you're the right age and cute enough to make it believable. Also, Talbot doesn't have surveillance on you like he does the rest of us. No offense, Hill, but if Barnes took one look at her, he'd head right back in the other direction."

"None taken," Hill said like this was common knowledge. It probably was.

"And he's already seen me."

"Great. Cute," I said. "Like a bunny rabbit. I'm glad to be useful for something."

"You're a Special Forces Combat Medic, Hayes. Hardly a bunny rabbit. You wouldn't have been recruited otherwise."

"So you're recruiting me because I'm a bunny rabbit with blood on my hands?"

"Because you're trustworthy, and you have the skills and training required to do the job. I knew Captain Russell personally. I know he wouldn't have added you to his team if he didn't see something in you."

"That was a long time ago, Agent Romanoff. I've taken a few hits since then."

"We all have." I picked up on what Romanoff was keeping to herself. I just didn't look like a threat. Barnes would take one look at me and know he could snap my neck with his pinky finger. And probably not even the metal one. "As long as Barnes doesn't feel threatened by you and your actions don't become suspicious, your life shouldn't be in any danger. But, just in case, you know what you have to do to get him down without assistance. Not a bunny rabbit, Hayes. A soldier. Regardless, Stark agreed to help out too."

"Stark is part of this?" I asked, a single eyebrow raised in further disbelief.

"Your sister convinced him." I nodded slowly. That didn't surprise me. They had to have known I'd be there somehow. Unless I was hired by chance. But they knew too much about me for this to be accidental.

"So the plan is that we're going to set you up with a false identity," Romanoff continued. "Nothing too far from the real you, just in case Talbot catches wind of what you're doing. The chances are high that Barnes won't have access to personal records. Still, we don't want to make Talbot suspicious by turning you into an entirely new person overnight. Not if we want to keep this quiet and keep Barnes out of government custody. Once we set up the environment and develop a believable backstory, Steve will start to come around. We want you to act like a couple. Or at least act like you like each other enough for him to spend the night at your house. That way, Barnes will think it's safe to approach, and you can alert Stark if the situation goes south."

"And if I have to face him alone?"

"Lie. Build your story. We don't think he'll ask many questions. But you need to make him believe he can trust you."

"And if he gets violent?"

"I heard you're pretty good with knives."

I was about to point out that I couldn't take a cyborg down with a knife, but Rogers interrupted. "Don't—try not to let it get violent," he said. "Don't kill him." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They had more faith in me than I had in myself. "Please?" I nodded slowly.

"And what if he tries to kill me first?" I asked.

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

"He won't unless you give him a reason," Romanoff assured me. It wasn't very reassuring. "Barnes is a tactical thinker. If he's not on a mission, he won't risk drawing attention to himself by murdering an unarmed civilian. He'd only get violent if he thought he was being threatened. Keep him calm, and he won't lash out. We set up precautions anyway. Stark sent us this prototype."

She slipped a bracelet off her wrist and set it on the metal table. It looked like a simple beaded bracelet, but Romanoff showed me where one of the beads had a raised design.

"Panic button," she explained. "Stark offered to let us take it to help you with the mission. If you feel like your life is in danger, all you have to do is press the button, and Stark will have one of us at your door in less than five minutes. Whoever's closest." I reached across the table for the bracelet and located the unusual bead.

"I'll have to send Stark my thanks." I turned back to Rogers. "So, what do you think of this plan?" He had his hands tucked under his chin and looked like someone who really needed a nap.

"I think it could be dangerous," he admitted. "But if it helps us get to him before anyone else, I think it's worth trying. I have a lot of faith that Bucky is still in there somewhere. So I don't want anything to keep him from reaching out to me."

"How long will we do this for?"

"As long as needed. Or at least until you decide to back out," Romanoff answered.

I kept my eyes on Rogers. He was the only one whose opinion I really wanted. Not just because I had military instincts and he outranked me, but because the mission was deeply personal to him. The rest of them were only there to locate a potential threat or help out a friend. If he wanted my help, I would give it.

"We'll set you up with a new job as part of your backstory," Romanoff continued. "Rogers will help make the difference between your job and your previous income."

"Do you want me to help you, Captain?" I asked him. He waited a moment to study my face before he answered.

"I can't ask you to help. It could be dangerous," he said.

"I'm not asking for you to give me an order. I'm asking what you want." He took a deep breath and gave a quick, short nod. I dropped my head and looked down at the bracelet in my lap. Then I slid it onto my wrist. "I don't do laundry," I decided.