Picture Perfect

Garden of Words

*counting this one, the next five chapters take place within the week William left for Avengers Tower & spent hesitating on going through the front door*

Setting: Annie(Red) & Winter(Bucky) in the room; Winter on the floor, watching as Annie finishes writing on the walls of the room...

I watch as she finishes writing on the walls-her nails now dull from carving into the bricks-she sits down on the bed and quietly watches as I read everything she wrote about me. I was born in 1917, my best friend was or rather is Steve Rogers/Captain America:born 1920. I was thought to have died falling from a train in 1944, but was saved by Hydra and turned into the Winter Soldier. Almost every detail about my past is written all along the walls of this room-not a single brick in this room is blank-all general information anyways, nothing personal. I turn back to look at her after I finish reading the last brick, only to find her asleep.

I don't remember any of this...each time they wipe my memories and repainted the star on my arm, Red chips the star off again and has me read every wall in hopes it'll jog something. Every time I have nightmares, I wake with a calming sensation and find her forehead against mine. She opens up to me by writing about herself in the floor...she knows I murdered her grandparents, yet she still treats me with kindness and like a person. Why is she being so nice to me? She even smiles at me sometimes, but why? I don't deserve to see her smile or anyone's with all the people I've killed...through her writing about herself, I find that we're the same yet different.

Eventually I learn everything about her, myself and our room becomes a garden of words; I feel a strangeness in chest when I look at her. She thinks of herself as a monster because of all the burns and scars; I see myself as a monster because of my arm and all the people I've killed. From what I've learned about her outside the room; they say she's one of three members of the surviving second generation of Super soldiers they created. I learned that she was one of the five that were part of the Winter line project-only two survived that mess. Winter Witch was project: W.02...from what I gather, they shut down both project:Winter Line up and project:W.02. Line was shut down because too many died and W.02 was shut down because Winter Witch was perfectly made.

I quietly watch her sleep and look around at the room covered in writing carved into the walls; the only part of this room that isn't written on is the ceiling, which is covered in bright lights that never turn off. I look back at her sleeping form-sleeping on her stomach since her back still pains her-she doesn't deserve to be here...no one does. The sound of footsteps come clambering towards and into the room. I glare at the men as they proceed to try and take Red; she wakes and just looks at them for a moment. She slowly sit up, not showing them any signs that she's in pain, but I can tell she is. She stands up just as slowly and almost collapses to the floor as they drag her out of the room...it's not until she returns that I know why they took her.
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Winter watches as they take me away yet again; I don't know where they're taking to, how long I've been here, or even if it's night or day. They bring me into a room, straps me stomach side down to a table...are they going to brand me again? That's when I notice not the branding rod, but a very sharp pair of hedge clippers; my eyes go from gray to white with worry...they wouldn't would they? They did. They cut and remove my paper thin-practically invisible-wings...they cut the only thing that gave me a sense of nostalgia. I feel the blood trickle out of the two wholes in my back where my wings had been, down the sides of my back and under my shirtless upper half.

My eyes revert back to gray as they sit me up and wrap gauze around my chest area to stop the bleeding; they then strap me down in a chair. They remove my gloves, tighten the straps around my wrists and proceed to forcefully ripping my claw like finger nails out from my fingers as if declawing a cat. It takes ten of them since contact with my hands knock people out instantly. They wrap each of my fingers in gauze one by one as they start bleeding...they grounded me...and took away my only means of communicating with Winter. At least they can't take away our garden of words...no matter how many times they wipe his memories, he'll always know who he is with our garden.

My gloves put back on my hands-Mac's old t-shirt that have been my only real form of clothes was put back on me-I'm dragged and thrown back into the room. I winch and the tears start coming as I crawl on my elbows to the bed and pull myself up. I lay on my stomach as Winter comes and sits in my view of the door again, his blue eyes watching my current gray ones as I breathe slowly cause it hurts so much. My eyes are on his, but my mind is in a far away place...hurry up 002...I don't know how much more I can take of this before they break me again. I hope Lucas is safe...I miss him so much...

"You look like hell," Winter says pulling me back

"..." I squeeze my eyes tight as I move to my side and pull of one of my gloves

"They took your nails away..." he says noticing how much shorter my fingers looked without long sharp nails

"..." I nod slowly

"..." he gives me sympathetic eyes

I smile faintly as I hold my breath from the pain I feel as I move my free hand through his long-shoulder length-brown hair and down across his scruffy face. My heart feels that strange feeling again-like how I feel when I see Steve...or think about him-but why am I getting now as I look at Winter? Here's a man who was created into something against his will-who was supposed to be dead-a man whom has taken more lives than countable and yet...in the short time I've come to know him...I find that he makes me feel safe. I've never felt safe while I was here-growing up in Hydra-how could I when I saw others like me drop dead left and right and saw the chair at work before. When I was younger I saw them us the chair on a man, the man I now know as Winter.

I've felt the horrors of the chair, I've killed innocent lives-more than I can count-I've seen death all my life, almost died in a fire, and put my trust in very few people. I drop my hand from his face, slip my glove back on, and turn over to face the wall as I feel him stare after me. My heart pounds as I feel him starring at me, my face feels hot and that's when he says something strange...

"You're eyes..." he says as I hear him stand up, walk to his bed and sit down, "they're red..."