An introverted waitress stumbles into Captain America during Loki's attack on New York. After taking a bullet for him, he lets her go, wondering. She's on the run, but he can't know that. When she meets the Avengers again, escape is all but impossib...
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AMERICA'S POV
"What?" The soldier stares at me uncomprehendingly.
"My name is America," I repeat in wonder. I start to pace the floor, my enhanced speed moving me faster than average. "And they took that. They took my identity away from me. That's why we don't know our names. Why we don't remember anything. They lie to us."
"Are you sure?"
"I had a life!" I reply passionately. "So did you! They took it away from us!"
"What do you mean?" He doesn't doubt me, he just wants the details. He wants to understand.
Then I glance at the leather jacket still clutched in my hands. "This was someone's. I know it. It's not mine. And the doctor told me it's been three months since they found me, but I have no memory of it being that long. I barely remember last week! I could have been here years! Don't you see? They just wipe our memories and send us to do their dirty work! It's a never-ending cycle, James!" My hand goes to my mouth as I realize what I just said. His eyes widen.
"What did you just call me?"
"James," I say softly. Something dawns on me. I pull up the corner of my shirt to reveal one of the names of my tattoos, one that suddenly makes sense. I did meet him before, after all.
"That's my name," he whispers, recognition crossing his face. "James. James...Barnes." The name sounds right, even though I've never heard it before.
"Did you know?" I whisper urgently. I feel the need to be quiet about this, or they might take it away from us. "About any of this?"
"I've had my suspicions for a while. Things just don't add up the way they should," he replies, raking his metal hand through his hair.
"What else have they been hiding? We can't trust anything they've told us! Everything is a lie, that's what we have to go on. Nothing. We have nothing to go on!"
"America, calm down." His use of my name has a calming effect on me: I slow down and take a few deep breaths. He stands and locks the door, then pushes a chair up against it. Not the greatest defense, but it's the best we have right now. Then he sits on the bed across from me. "Keep your voice down, please. I get that you're freaked out. I really do. But we can't afford to freak out now. We have a few hours until morning, and we need to figure some things out by then."
"Like what?"
"What happened that made you remember all of that? Was it a dream or something?" I nod. "Can you describe it? All of it?"
"Well, I was running. I decided to escape. I think I must have realized what they were doing. We have trackers right here," I say, indicating my scar. "I cut it out, stole some money, and got on a plane to the United States."
"Trackers? No wonder they never lose us," he mutters, staring at his non-metal arm. "And then you left for the United States. What happened after that?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. That's when the flashback ended. I don't even know how long ago that was." Guilt floods me. "I left you. We were partners, and I escaped without you."
"Don't worry about that now. It doesn't matter. Not like I remember it anyway." He winks. How can he be lighthearted in a situation like this? I still grin back.
"What are we going to do?" A silence falls between us. What do we do with this knowledge, considering all we know might be taken away?
"You need to find out what they're hiding in Strucker's lab. I have a feeling whatever it is has to do with you, considering you aren't allowed near there."
"Do you know?" I ask. "Who he is, I mean."
He shrugs. "I don't know that much about him. I've only ever met him once or twice, from what I remember. He likes to experiment on humans. If I had to guess, he would be the one who gave you your enhanced speed."
"Oh." I think about this man, Strucker, who must have experimented on my cells years ago. Everything about me is faster than average. "Have you been in his lab?"
"No, but I've heard rumors. A few weeks ago, I heard screams from in there."
"That's...comforting." I reach into my boot and pull out a small, thin dagger. I stole it from the lab the other day. Just in case. And now it finally has a purpose.
I press the edge of the blade into my skin and draw the smallest amount of blood.
"What are you doing?" James whisper-screams in concern.
"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." I bite my lip as I carefully carve into my flesh. If it's one thing I've learned, the only way to make something permanent is to brand it in my skin. In a few minutes, the word America is bloodred against my pale arm. "Someone might catch me," I explain, wiping trickles of blood off of my forearm. "This way, my name will at least be here for a few days. Then it'll scab over, and if I'm lucky, it'll make a scar." There's a new name in my collection. "Only problem is, I don't have clearance to be out after hours."
A mischievous smile spreads on my companion's face. "I do."
A lot happened in this chapter. There's a lot of important information that will be crucial for the next few, so don't forget! What do you think?
