Always did, in a way. The steady tapping against the walls outside slowly lulled you to sleep, pulling you away from this world and into the next. You were about to cross over, finally enjoy the sweet bliss of oblivion when..

Any hopes of sleep were long gone as you groggily sat up, wiping the water from your face. You looked around and noticed the small crack in the ceiling where the water was coming from… Great. Speaking of looking around, where the hell were you?

You slowly stood up, taking in the room around you. It was a small, abandoned apartment from the looks of it. Forgotten toys and books scattered the floor as wind whipped through the windows. A large rifle was propped up against the window sill looking out at the street. Everything was… decimated. Like, someone had run a total rampage out there, and then vanished without a trace.

Thoughts flew through your head as you desperately tried to understand the situation around you.

Looking around the room, you found a small radio hidden under the rifle. You picked it up as another sound came out. Someone was talking.

Тень, or shadow, you knew what that meant. Realization creeped in as the radio slipped from your hands, clattering on the floor.

Horror seized you at once, the weight of autonomy crushing your lungs as you tried to breathe.^[a] You’d almost killed someone. Again. Again? How many times has this happened? What was different now? Why did you-

You were crouching at the window sill, glancing out of your rifle’s scope. A woman with a shock of white hair framing her face fumbling in your crosshairs. Almost… Almost… There.

Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the air. In less than a second, that woman would be on the ground. You could go home. You glanced up, only to be met by a shadow greater than your own.

The bullet and the scope were long gone. Now, all you could see was the darkness enveloping you. Usually, this would be a comforting sight… and yet...

You whipped your head around only to be met by a fiery scene. A young child, yourself, scrambling towards a burning building, tears streaming down your face. Soldiers with stony expressions throwing you and other children like them into the back of a truck as the street burned.

Next, an unruly boy beside you, kicking and screaming and biting until he finally broke free from the soldier’s grasp, sprinting towards a burning building. A shot rang out. The boy fell down.

You sat in the back of that truck for hours, watching your younger self break and buckle under the pressure of grief as the other children around you did the same. Eventually the truck came to a stop. You were escorted underground into a small bunker, and eventually an even smaller cell.

Then, leather straps, pinning you down to an uncomfortable chair. Needles, blades, saws, scars, blood, all of it flashed before your eyes for what felt like an eternity.^[b] You eventually grew numb to the familiar scene, just as you did way back then. Someone was speaking to you, handing you a blade of your own, you were about to pick it up when-

Everything was gone. The blades, the soldiers, all of it. You were back in that apartment, dizzy with relief. You looked out the window, the woman was long gone, not a trace left behind. Understanding hit you. Something… happened. You were out, on a mission again, like you’d done a million times before, and something interrupted you. It hit you hard enough to shock you out of the trance HYDRA had you under for the better part of 90 years now. You were Тень, the one they were calling for on the radio, the Shadow Walker.

The realization weighed on you. You were being crushed under 90 years of guilt and bloodshed. The past came to you in pieces. A car accident in Paris. An assasination on a yacht. A heart attack in a prison bathroom. All of it, you.

You stumbled back, hitting the harsh, concrete walls and sliding down to the floor as your mind skittered to a halt. How were you supposed to live with this? What were you supposed to do now? Just roll over and let HYDRA take control again? Then what? Cause another decade worth of tragedy only to wake up and despise yourself more?

Your world was collapsing around you. What were you outside of HYDRA? Who were you? Did you even have a name? Your breath caught in your throat as the thought hit you.

You searched your mind for answers, glimpses of a past now buried deep beneath scar tissue. You thought back to that night in Paris, to your father. He had called you something. But what? In the end, all you could recall was a blurry face and smoke clouding your lungs. You knew you had a name. You had to, everyone does. And yet when you thought back, all you could ever remember being called was-^[c]

“Тень! Откликнитесь, или мы вас заберем.” The voice crackled out from the radio again, shocking you out of your stupor.

It was clear the man on the other end was getting impatient. He had been demanding your reply for a few minutes now, threatening discipline if you refused to comply. You had to comply, unless you wanted to face the wrath of your handlers. But no one had been sent, there were no boots stomping, nothing. Surely, HYDRA wasn’t this gracious, no, something else was going on. Something was wrong.

You glanced over to the discarded radio, grabbing it as you slowly made your way back to your feet. You fiddled with the gadget for a second before replying.

The radio- your handler, now that you thought about it, was silent for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do. Finally, a reply,

“Понял. Оставайтесь там, где вы есть. Мы скоро вас заберем.”

As soon as the message ended, you dropped the radio back to the floor and went about looking for your belongings. A bag, briefcase, you must have brought something other than this giant ass gun. Then, you saw it. A small duffle bag tucked into the right corner. You snatched it up, rifling through the bag's meager contents. Unfortunately, all you were left with was a small .22, 7 rounds left, an ancient looking first-aid kit, and some pocket change. Delightful.

Regardless, you had to get out of there. You weren’t going back into HYDRA custody, and you weren’t trying to find out whatever other God awful thing had happened here either. You flung the duffle onto your back, and slowly made your way out of the building. The streets were quieter now, aside from the stray siren here and there. The leftover rain slowly dripped its way through the city's cracks and crevices, pooling up at crosswalks and potholes. For a while, you simply walked through the rubble, needing to put distance between you and what you had almost done. You just needed to keep moving. If you were moving, you couldn’t think. And if you couldn’t think, you couldn’t obsess over all the horrible things you’d done.

So you kept walking, running, really. But eventually, your legs grew weary. You were exhausted. All you needed was a five minute break, and you’d be back on your feet, not thinking. That was it. Cautiously, you stopped into the next restaurant you saw, which, unfortunately happened to be a shitty, run down diner squeezed between even shittier, run down places. But whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

You slid into a booth at the back of the restaurant, absentmindedly scanning the room. You hadn’t even thought to do it, but your subconscious was still on the lookout for threats. You glanced at one of the many buzzing televisions hanging over the bar. On the screen, a woman with a bolt of white hair stood at a podium, speaking about something. You recognized her. That was the woman you were supposed to kill today. Beside her stood a … colorful arrangement of characters. You snorted at the thought. All of them looked like they wanted to tear the woman’s head off, save for the tallest, who awkwardly fiddled with the hem of his shirt while the woman next to him shot a worried glance.

But between all of the noise, you saw him. A face painfully familiar. The Winter Soldier. He was different now, yes, but beneath all of his barely maintained poise and composure you could see it, the man you once knew as your friend. Your stomach lurched at the thought. ‘Friend’ was a … polite way of explaining what the two of you were. You were certainly closer to him than any other operative or agent you’d worked with under HYDRA, but it wasn’t like the two of you ever had a proper conversation. No, it was more like you’d ramble for hours during stakeouts, and he’d occasionally huff in reply.

Still, he was the closest thing to a friend you’d known in your near 90 years working for HYDRA. It had shattered you when he left. They said he had left you for the enemy, only to be tricked by them. They said he was dead. Hurt, betrayal, and longing hit you all at once. He wasn’t dead, but he had left you, and for what? This? A group of hopeless strays^[d]? The thought made you sick. You tore your eyes away from the screen as the broadcast continued to play, anger bubbling under your skin. This had to be some kind of sick joke. Maybe it was another one of HYDRA’s schemes to destroy your psyche, wear you so thin that the only thing you could consider was obedience.

You fought off the anger boiling inside you. So, he was alive all this time, alive, and well, it seems, and he never thought to come back for you. So what! It’s fine, not like you would’ve gone back for him either.

Except you did. Every single time. That was your job. Escort the soldier to and from his missions without a trace. Guide him through the shadows and ensure nothing was left behind. He would’ve been caught decades ago if not for your help. You were the one keeping him safe all those years, away from enemy eyes and ears- You were the one who-

You sighed, brushing off the water welling up in your eyes. It was fine. You were happy for him, clearly, he was doing better now. He didn’t need you, he had his own little superhero team and everything! But, if you weren’t his partner then… What were you? A broken, forgotten tool? A weapon to be used by HYDRA? A small bundle of nothing but pain and hurt? You sat there, listlessly trying to understand what you were meant to be now.

Blood rushed through your ears as tears spilled from your eyes, splashing onto the worn, vinyl table below. Who were you? You couldn’t remember. What was your name? You thought, desperately searching for an answer. But of course, it never came. After all, you were just a tool, a blade covered in blood that could never truly be cleaned.

Guilt loomed over you like a shadow. Not the cool, comforting type you’d long associated with your abilities, but the heavy, suffocating weight of pure darkness weighing on your shoulders. It crawled up the back of your throat, poisoning you from the inside out, tainting your very soul. All you could think of was the years, decades of bloodshed at your hands. How many men had you killed? How many families ripped apart and destroyed with a smile on your face, utterly convinced you were doing the right thing. ^[e]

It was unbearable. You buckled under the strain of it all, chest heaving as you choked on ragged breaths. You had to get out of here. Suddenly, everything was too bright, too loud, too much.

You bolted from your seat, duffle long forgotten, and knocked into a waitress as you shot out of the diner. In the back of your mind, you could hear the sound of glasses shattering behind you, but you didn’t care. Your skin was buzzing, head was swimming, nothing mattered anymore except getting the fuck out of there.

You don’t know how long you ran against the cold rain, boots pounding against the pavement. The cold air bit into your cheeks as you tried to ignore the tears steadily flowing down your face. Maybe you could run fast enough, far enough, that you wouldn’t be able to hear their cries. Maybe, you could breathe without the scent of copper clinging to your throat. It was a nice thought, but of course, it didn’t last. Guilt came crashing down on you once again, literally, this time.

In your panicked state, you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings in the slightest. Simply weaving your way through the streets. Eventually, your recklessness caught up to you, and you tripped into oncoming traffic. Before you even had a chance to think, a car came barrelling through, slamming into you and throwing your world off its axis.

And for a while, everything was dark, quiet, even. You wondered if this was finally it, if this was how you’d finally die. A car accident was a bit anticlimactic, sure, but as long as you were dead, you didn’t really care. You’d finally have a chance to rest, to be free from the blood on your hands, to-

You blearily opened your eyes, vision slowly focusing on the face in front of you as the sounds of the city slowly poured into your ears. You lay there, dazed for a moment until panic seized you once more. Someone was close, too close. You didn’t have time to react, much less stop yourself as instinct took over, grabbing your assailant by the throat and slamming them into the hard pavement below. A sharp crack rang out as their spine hit the ground.

Adrenaline faded, leaving you alone with the sight below you. A young woman, scared and crying beneath the hard grip you had on her throat. It horrified you.

You let go, shakily stepping back. Whipping your head around, you could see the crowd of people now formed around you. Some were recording, others running at you, trying to restrain you.

The world spinned as you looked back down to the woman, then to the crowd. You had to get out of here, now. You sprinted through the crowd, shoving people this way and that as you made your way off the main street. You could feel the warm, sticky blood dripping from your face. Your legs ached, lungs burned, and you were pretty sure you’d broken a rib. Nausea clawed its way up your throat, threatening to choke you. But none of it mattered, you had to get away from here before you hurt anyone else.

After all, that’s what you did, didn’t you? Hurt people hurt people and all that. You were a weapon, forged from fire and pain, only capable of destruction. You didn’t use blunt objects to heal people, no, you were made for breaking bones, shattering spines. That’s all you were ever good at, anyways. It only made sense that now, even though you were free from HYDRA’s control, all you could do was hurt people.

The thought shot through you, stopping you in your tracks and leaving you breathless. It didn’t matter that you were free.

You made a promise to yourself. You weren’t going to let a weapon like yourself walk around freely, or be used by something by HYDRA. You had a new mission now. You were going to destroy yourself, before you could ever be used to hurt someone again.

You looked around, scanning the buildings nearby. There had to be something tall enough, sharp enough, it didn’t matter. You just needed to die. There were regulations on bombs and other weapons, it wasn’t fair that you be allowed to run around free either.

There, you saw it. A skyscraper taller than anything you’d seen before. It was some ways off in the distance, but you had to make sure this would work. You didn’t have any other option.

You took off, following the building like it was the North Star. It was your only chance for redemption, for hope. So you ran. You pushed through crowds, weaved through traffic. You refused to stop for anything. You were getting to the top of that tower, or you were going to die in the process of reaching it.

You almost did, too. You’re sure there was a spike in insurance claims that day, with how many cars you rolled over or jumped on during your pilgrimage. But you were almost there. The world would finally forgive you. All you had to do now was climb the tower.

You marched your way to the front door. A man in a dark suit put his hand against your chest, trying to stop you. You didn’t have time for this. Besides, you were already going out, might as well bring a few broken bones with you. You let instinct take over and grabbed the man by his wrist, twisting it until you heard something break. And yeah, it made you feel a little bit better about the shitty situation you were in.

You ignored the twinge of guilt in your chest and left the man to his agony, making your way into the building. Again, guards attempted to stop you, but you weren’t here to waste anymore time. You sent the men down with a swift kick to the chest and ignored the receptionist's cries as you climbed the stairs. You took them two at a time, not wanting to delay any longer. Eventually, you reached a door that you assumed was some kind of maintenance access. You grabbed at the door handle. Locked. You grabbed at the handle tighter this time, and ripped the door from its hinges. Unlocked^[g].

You stepped out onto the roof, wind whipping your hair around violently. You stared out at the horizon. New York was kind of beautiful in its own way. It was different now, far different than you last remembered, but beautiful nonetheless. At least God had done you a small kindness, allowing you to die in such a place.

You slowly made your way to the edge. You’d been so eager, restless before, but now, you could feel fear skittering up your back^[h]. You could see the people walking below you, swarming the building like ants. Part of you hoped you didn’t hit anyone on the way down, another part hoped you’d take out the entire city with you. It was selfish, sure, but when had you ever been a good person?

That was enough to send you over the edge and remind you why you were here in the first place. You were a weapon, a thing of destruction, and the world would never truly be safe as long as you were in it.

You were falling for what felt like forever. Is this what the afterlife was? Simply reliving your last moments over and over? You tried not to think about what that meant for some of your victims.

You were expecting some kind of hellscape, eternal torture and agony, the works. But this could work too. So, you lay there, falling into the void, appreciating the cool darkness around you. It almost reminded you of the shadows, how it felt to simply lay in them, floating above the light of the real world. You could even feel the soft touch of darkness wrapping around your fingers, silently comforting you. Truth be told, the shadows were the closest thing to comfort you had back under HYDRA. They were always there, waiting, quiet and gentle as you wrapped yourself in them, hidden from sight.

Fondness bubbled in your chest as you thought back to those days. There was a time when you felt righteous, like a hero. Your shadows by your side, a constant presence, anchoring you to the world. They reminded you of the soldier, in a way. Quiet, constant, and wonderfully lethal. He never seemed to appreciate your shadows though, no matter how much they helped him. Perhaps he just couldn’t see how similar they were. Or, maybe it was that they were too similar, and he couldn’t stand to look into the darkness gazing back at him.

You’d never know now. Any hopes of seeing your soldier again were long gone. He had abandoned you, left for some shiny new thing. But he could never truly leave you. No, as long as that man was alive, so too was the soldier. And that was a part of you he could never erase. You were the soldier’s shadow^[i] after all.

The thought gave you comfort as you let the darkness consume you, drifting off into nothingness.

The next time you awoke, it wasn’t in the soft, sweet hold of death. No. Apparently, God had decided he wasn’t done playing with you. You were back, half dead, on the streets of New York Fucking City. Again.

Rage boiled under your skin. You were supposed to die. You were supposed to be dead.

Everything hurt or burned. Your already bruised and broken ribs were screaming from the impact. Your skull felt like it’d been shattered to a million pieces, and yet, you still found it in you to move. Shivering, you fought the pain in your body as you slowly rolled yourself onto your stomach. There. Progress.

You weren’t sure how you were even alive at this point. Guess years of HYDRA testing and abuse finally came in handy, for once.

You tried pushing yourself up to your feet only to fail spectacularly. You barely got up on your forearms before your body gave out, dropping and slamming your chin into the pavement. Ouch. Yeah, this was definitely gonna scar. But you could feel your body healing, slowly putting itself back together as you did everything in your power just to stand up.

You're not sure how long you sat, laying there on the cold pavement as rain dappled your face. You were exhausted. If a fall from New York’s tallest building couldn’t kill you, what could? Were you simply immortal now? The thought sent a chill down your spine. The idea of living forever, always fearing yourself, what you could do. It made you sick.

Earlier, high on adrenaline and drowning in your own pain, it’d been easy to hurt people. Disabling, no, breaking those guards had been easy, fun even. It was nice, in a way, to see your pain laid bare upon someone else’s face for once. Now, they had to feel just how you felt, how you’d been feeling for nearly 90 years now.

You knew it wasn’t right. But that didn’t make it any better. All it did was make you feel worse for enjoying their pain in the first place.

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You wanted to be forgotten by the world. You just wanted everything to go away.

The sound of boots pounding around the corner broke you from your trance. HYDRA was finally here to collect you. You weren’t sure how they’d found you. Probably a tracker, or something. Whatever. You had to get out of here, fast.

You tried once more to stand up, only to crash back to the ground as a sharp pain shot through your legs. You looked down, only to be met with the mangled mess you once called legs. Every part of your body screamed at you to stop, to just give up, let them take you home. But you’d made a promise to yourself. You weren’t going back to HYDRA. Not even in a body bag.

You gritted your teeth, fighting against exhaustion. You made your way to your feet, knees buckling, you leaned up against the wall. Fuck, it hurt. Your body wouldn’t be able to handle any further movement. You could barely keep yourself standing, let alone run.

Fortunately for you, it was a gloomy day, overcast even. The streets of New York were haunted with shadows around every corner, and that’s all you needed for your great escape.

You lifted your hand, calling out to the shadows around you as loudly as possible. Beckoning them to your hand, you watched as the wisps of darkness slowly pooled in the palm of your hand. The cool sensation alone was enough to restore your strength. Slowly, you drew even more, wrapping the darkness around you like armor. For now, you could use this to escape until you could come up with a plan.

You allowed the shadows to carry you, slipping between the city’s cracks and away from the sounds of yelling and boots behind you. You were gliding down the street, unseen under people’s feet as something caught your eye. A television display behind an old set of windows. The screens flickered, showing the fuzzy picture of a news report. It took you a moment to realize that they were talking about you, the freak who tried to kill the woman who saved you.

Guilt gnawed at you as you watched the broadcast. Eventually, the screen changed, showing a reporter outside of a large tower, speaking to the woman with white hair. They were talking about you. Apparently there were other people looking for you. Great, even better.

But in the background, you could see him. The soldier. He was stern, talking to a man in some sort of… Hat? Helmet? You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but you did know it looked ridiculous with the halfway on, half off position he had it in. Then, the idea hit you. The soldier was here, in this city. The same soldier, who never disobeyed orders, who always completed his mission, regardless of the task. If there was anything capable of killing you… It was him.

A slow smile spread to your face as you melted from the shadows, scaring the people nearby. You stumbled closer to the screen, face pressed against the glass. This was it. It was almost poetic. The same thing that had always protected you then, would be your undoing now. It was perfect.

You were renewed, almost giddy at the thought. You whipped around, facing the people awkwardly passing you on the street. A man walked, desperately trying not to make eye contact with the wide eyed, grinning freak that was you. Unfortunately, you didn’t care.

Your grip around his collar grew tighter, wrenching him up higher. Clenching your jaw, you spoke as softly as possible.

“Mid- Midtown, Park Avenue. It’s a giant tower, I- You can’t miss it!” The man squeaked out his reply.

You, being the ever so kind individual, dropped him to the ground unceremoniously, and smiled.

Slinking out of the shadows, you arrived outside of the building. Your body was… better now. Your legs screamed against every movement, but it wasn’t intolerable. But you still needed the extra assistance from your shadows every now and then. Perfect, already injured, this will be easy for him.

You walked into the main lobby… it was… wrecked, to put it politely. There was a truck rammed into the front desk, half of the walls were gone in some places. Really, what the fuck happened here?

Regardless, you shouldered on, making your way into the elevator and jamming the button for the top floor. It was empty… eerily so, to be honest. Why weren’t there any soldiers? Why wasn’t anyone coming to stop you? It creeped you out. This felt like some kind of trap. You tried to fight your instincts, but decades of training and combat experience were hard to just wave off. You had to remind yourself that you were here to lose. You were here to die.

You were welcomed by a smooth, white marble interior… that had been absolutely destroyed. Windows were smashed, chunks of marble and concrete littered the floor, and in the midst of it all stood the soldier and his strays, casually talking amongst themselves.

They didn’t even say anything at first. He didn’t say anything. The soldier just.. stared. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Um.. hi?” The first one to speak up was the blonde, white-blonde, really. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and she was already over whatever bullshit you were about to drag up.

You hadn’t really thought this far ahead, to be honest. So, you said the only thing that was on your mind.

Everyone in the room stiffened at your words. Silent glances were shot at the soldier, he winced at each one as if he’d been shot. He finally looked back at you, recognition fading into his expression. But you weren’t here for a heartfelt reunion. You had a mission to accomplish.

Silently, you reached out to the shadows looming under the strays’ feet. One by one, you dropped them into the inky abyss below. They’d be fine really, as long as they could find a way out. Finally, it was just you and the soldier. There was nothing left to it now.

You dropped your armor, feeling the true extent of your injuries to the fullest. Then, you charged. It wasn’t a feint, or a trick. You simply faced him head on, hoping he’d make this quick.

You threw a punch, a jab, anything. But every time he’d block and redirect your attacks, you grew more frustrated. Why wasn’t he hitting you? That’s what he was designed to do. Maybe he could tell you weren’t trying hard enough. Yeah, that had to be it.

So, you called out to the shadows once more, bringing them into your hands and sharpening them into a sword. You charged one more, landing a slash on his right shoulder and your ass getting sent to the floor.

“Why are you here?” The soldier barked out. He looked like he didn’t want an answer.

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as you caught your breath. He was waiting.

“Shadows don’t talk, Жoпа^[j].” The word cut through you like a knife, sending a wave of pain deeper than any of the injuries you’d sustained.

But he didn’t stop, he came at you, grabbing your arms and pinning you to the wall.

“Why are you really here?” He spoke between gritted teeth, like he was barely able to contain the onslaught of anger behind them.

You were speechless. You had played this song and dance millions of times before. You acted out, got in trouble, the soldier would discipline you, and you’d get beaten within an inch of your life, just like you’d wanted. Yet that one word, one little word, was all it took to throw everything you thought you knew off balance.

Жoпа.

The one word he’d ever spoken to you over the course of 70 years. Жoпа. It had been whispered in the dark of a snowed in cave. The two of you had gotten lost on the way home from a recon mission, stuck in a massive snow storm, you’d decided to hunker down in a cave for the night. You thought you were going to die there, frozen to death in God knows where.

You were huddled close together, about to jump into the small fire you’d built if it meant warming up, just a little. The masks were long discarded in favor of feeling the fire's warmth on your skin. You were torn, fighting between the desire to openly cling to him, if only to absorb just a little more heat, and the need to keep as far away as possible. You were a shadow, trained by only the best. Shadows didn’t feel, and they sure as hell didn’t want. But you wanted, badly.

In the end, you were only human. Besides, you could always brush it off as being cold. So, as casually (see: awkwardly) as physically possible, you slowly leaned your head against his shoulder. He inhaled sharply at the contact. You’d been working with the soldier for years at this point, and by now you knew that as the sound that meant, ‘Absolutely the fuck not.’

You quickly pulled back, looking down in shame. It was a stupid idea, really. You knew the soldier barely tolerated you as was. It was ridiculous to think he’d allow the extra contact.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. Him, staring into the fire and brooding, and you, desperately trying to think of anything else other than the man sitting beside you.

After a while, the soldier relented, breathing a deep sigh. Slowly, he leaned his head against your shoulder, eventually putting his full weight on you. You tensed, simultaneously trying to support this hulking beast of a man and not freak the fuck out. You settled for awkwardly holding your breath until he looked up at you. Letting out an amused breath, he spoke that single word.

But now you were cold, your blood frozen as it sluggishly made its way through your veins. You could feel the ice grip of the soldier’s arm keeping you in place. He was saying something, but you weren’t really paying attention.

“You call this a team?” You spat out, not bothering to hide the hurt and betrayal in your voice. “These pathetic strays that you keep, following you like dogs, you call that a team?”

Anger clouded his vision. His fist clouded your vision as he broke your nose. You choked on the blood running down your face, spitting it at him.

“They couldn’t even dodge my first attack. How do you ever expect them to keep up with you?” You smiled, blood running from your mouth.

“Where are they? Answer me!” He slammed a fist into the wall beside you. Your head lolled to the side. God, you were tired.

And that was enough. He snapped, ramming his fist into your face again, and again, and again. It was everything you could’ve hoped for. You let your eyes close. Your wide, manic smile faded into something almost fond.

You tried to open your eyes, one of them swollen shut as a result of the beating you’d taken. Why had he stopped?

He studied you for a moment. The image of your bruised and bloody face painfully familiar. But this time… you weren’t fighting back. There was no resistance, no struggle. If anything, you looked tired, expectant almost. It struck something within him.

“What? You all done now?” You jeered, egging him on. He simply looked at you, confused.

Except, he didn’t. Instead, he loosened his grip, allowing you to slide back down to the floor. He slowly took a step back, then another, as if he was trying to help an injured animal.

His pity only served to enrage you further. You screamed, launching yourself at him again. Your shadows whipped around wildly, lashing at the air as you attacked. It was sloppy, reckless, nothing at all like the well oiled machine HYDRA had forced you to become.

“Why are you doing this?” He shouted, but you could hardly hear him over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

You sent a shadow swiping at his feet and knocked the soldier off balance easily. You took the opening eagerly, jumping on top of him, and pinned his arms beneath your knees.

“HYDRA clearly didn’t send you, so why are you here, тень?” The word flared through your chest, lighting your heart aflame with grief and guilt alike.

You didn’t even think. Your hands snaked around his throat like they weren’t even your own.

“Do not call me that.” You gritted out. Tears pricked at your eyes. Shadows didn’t feel, and yet, here you were, feeling more than you ever had before.

He wrenched an arm out from underneath you, grabbing at the hands around his throat and throwing over his shoulder onto the floor behind him. Your spine slammed into the marble floors with a loud thud. The wind was knocked from your chest, leaving you breathless and struggling for air. You heard him get up behind you and slowly brush the dust from his pants. He stood there, looming over you like a shadow as you choked on your own breath. He almost looked… worried?

“I’m not trying to fight you. Whatever this is… it’s not going to work.”

You snorted at his words. Yeah, right. Like he had any choice in the matter. He was still your soldier, no matter how many shiny coats of paint he tried to hide it under. Clearly, he had forgotten who he truly was.

There was one way to remind him. You’d promise yourself you’d never use those words long ago. But now? Well, it’s not like you’d have to deal with the consequences for long anyways.

He flinched as each word rolled off your tongue. Fear and anger morphed into the perfect picture of hurt.

You walked closer. You didn’t care. He was going to kill you, whether he liked it, or not.

He caught you by the throat, slamming you into the floor. He reared his fist back.

You laughed. The Winter Soldier was finally home. You coughed on your blood as you spoke,

You threw your head back, smiling. Finally, you had gotten what you’d wanted. You knew you could trust him to get the job done.

He froze, staring at you. All at once, it made sense. Your lack of resistance, your insistence on fighting. You were trying to get hurt. Not just that, you were trying to die.

This wasn’t a HYDRA assignment gone wrong, or some half-assed revenge plan, no, this was a suicide mission, and you were bringing him down with you.

His fist came crashing down. The metal one. You knew this would hurt. You screwed your eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

Both of you were breathing heavily. Confusion clouded your mind as iron dripped down your face. His voice wavered as he spoke.

The dam broke. Everything you’d been desperately trying to hold back came flooding through. Years of guilt and shame, longing for an escape from the pain. You couldn’t escape everything you’d done, everything they’d done to you, even if you tried.

Your final request. The closest thing you’d ever had to a “friend”. You’d begged him, pleaded with him. This one last favor, and you’d never visit again.

That shattered you. You were alone now. Your soldier was gone, replaced by someone else. You couldn’t take it. You screamed, sobbed, begged for him to come back, please. ^[l]

You couldn’t stand being alone in your grief. What were you supposed to do if he wasn’t there? Who knows what you’d do, who you’d hurt. You couldn’t control your mind, let alone your body.

You shouted, scratched and clawed against him. If he wouldn’t kill you, you would do it yourself. Your handler always said that the only person you could trust was yourself. Guess he was right, in the end. Writhing, you desperately tried to escape his grip, but he was always stronger than you. It was why you’d entrusted him with this in the first place.

Slowly, he lifted his hand from your mouth. You took the opportunity to bite him. He winced, but his grip on you never wavered. He wrapped his arms behind your back, lifting you onto his lap. He pulled you to his chest, restraining you despite your best efforts. You sobbed against his chest. Your throat was raw, your back ached, your skull still felt like it’d been split open. You were so tired, every part of you begged to just give up. Your head fell against his chest. Eventually, your hands clawing at his back slowed, resting there.

For a while, he simply held you in the darkness. The tower had gone eerily silent as the two of you sat there, not saying a word. After a while, you found the courage to venture from your hiding spot in his chest. You looked up at him, guilt rotting in your stomach. He was facing away, looking at something you couldn't see.

You had no idea what to say, what to do, to make this go away. How were you supposed to make this better? Could you even do something like that, after all this?

You had always thought of him as the one good, soft thing in your life. The rest of your handlers, doctors, they treated you with… indifference at best. The soldier was kind, though. He never spoke, but his eyes softened when he glanced at you. He'd walk slightly slower on the way home from a mission. What were you supposed to do if he'd forgotten that?

The silence felt impossible for you to breach. You simply… looked at him, for a while. You could see it now, how the soldier's mask would've hid the soft features underneath. His brow was still heavy, casting a shadow only pierced by crystal eyes. It was familiar, but in a way you didn't recognize.

It punched the air out of your lungs. How much did he remember? Did he recognize you when you arrived? You were grasping at straws, fumbling for something to say.

“As soon as I heard of it on the news, a person that could melt in and out of the shadows. I knew it was you.”

The two of you sat there, minutes slowly dragging on, uncomfortable in the quiet silence between you, and yet unsure of how to break it. In the end, it was the soldier who had the courage to press on.

“You’re injured…” It was clipped, awkward, and you couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“No shit.” You snorted. He scoffed at you, incredulous. You simply raised an eyebrow in response. He continued on,

“Is fine. If anything, they’re probably bored, being trapped in an endless void and all.” The words seemed to spook him. Weird.

“Anyways…” You sighed, standing up as you slowly peeled yourself off of him. You tried not to wince from the pain shooting up your legs. He looked up at you, concerned. God this was awkward. Who knew super-soldiers were such worry warts?

“What?” You snarked back. “You have something better for me to do?” You were trying not to get angry again, but he made it so easy.

“Yes, actually. Give me back my team.” You tried not to roll your eyes at that. Emphasis on tried.

“Of course, how could I forget your hounds?” You flicked your gaze toward the ceiling, casually opening one of the shadows that hung in the rafters to drop those… people onto the floor.

They landed without ceremony into a tangled pile on the cool marble below. Immediately, they began arguing. You huffed at the sight, not bothering to hide your amusement.

“Walker, get your giant ass off me!” A woman’s voice clouded by a thick accent caught your attention.

“Oh sure, I’d love to, if only there wasn’t a 400 pound super-soldier crushing me!” A different voice, annoyed and distinctly American shouted back.

You cut your eyes back to the man standing in front of you, judgement clear on your face. Eventually, the fools got off their faces, on guard as soon as they noticed you.

“Who the hell is she?” The blonde man spoke. You recognized him. This was the idiot with the dorky helmet.

“Walker.” One word from the Winter Soldier and the man stopped in his tracks, the rest of the group along with him. It was hard to ignore the sense of pride in your chest.

But you couldn’t stay here. These weren’t your people, and it was evident that your soldier was long gone now. You turned to leave, barely making a step before he called after you.

“Anywhere but here.” He caught your wrist. You tried to tear away out of reflex, but he didn’t budge.

“I won’t let you.” You laughed at that, really, it was the funniest thing you’d heard all day.

He stood there, silently searching your face for the right response. In the end, he didn’t find it. You scoffed, ripping yourself from his iron grip. You began to walk away as he spoke up again. This was getting annoying.

“Where will you go? HYDRA’s got to be after you now. You can barely walk, much less fight them off. Do you really want to go back to that?”

“I’m the one making sure that doesn’t happen. If you can’t get the job done, that’s fine. I’ll go find someone who will.” You spoke between gritted teeth, and the soldier, the stubborn mule he was, refused to back down.

“I’m not going to kill you, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself either.”

You didn’t dignify him with a proper response, couldn’t, really. Instead, you simply muttered, bitterly as you marched on.

“Тень.” You whipped around to face him. Anger hardened in your stomach once more. After all this, he still had the gall to call you that?

But when you saw the expression on his face, guarded yet laced with… something you couldn’t name, you softened.

[a]oh peak?? "weight of autonomy" is really good -a

[b]love -a

[c]I really like how you end the internal dialogue paragraphs like this, you can tell they're spiraling it really reads like a train of thought -a

[d]ur so petty about them I love this

[e]oh peak??

[f]very cool very epic callback

[g]love

[h]love

[i]yooooooo you said the thing!!

[j]hi, for reference this is a cuss word like ass/brat, but it's usually a friendly term, between friends or family. can also be used maliciously depending on the context. hope this hurts!

[k]the entire flashback scene? peak. 10000 more please

[l]homegirl is NAWT having a good day. my bad yall

[m]write an actual ending you dumb fuck