My eyes slowly open, needing to blink a few times before they go into focus. Looking over towards the door, I find Steve, sitting in a chair, reading a book. As I try and move, my wrist is in handcuffs, attached to the bed frame and I let out a sigh, annoyed that I'm trapped here. But the thing that confuses me the most is why they decided to bring me with them? Don't I pose as a threat? They should've just let Winter finish his mission.

"Is this necessary?" my voice sounds dry and tired.

Steve looks up from his book, surprised. "We don't know what you're capable of, so yes, it's necessary."

"I'm not going to turn into her," I say, quietly.

Before he could question me, the door opens, revealing Natasha. When she sees me, it's like a weight is lifted off her shoulders, and she walks over, sitting down at the end of the bed. I manage to sit up as a wave of pain goes through my body, and I lean back against the bed frame, pulling my knees to my chest. I want to speak up and say something, but I'm afraid that if I say the wrong thing, that will be the last of me. In my mind, I know that I'm scared. I'm scared to be sent back to Alexander. Those five words terrify me and I don't want to ever hear them again. For the first time in a long time, I feel human and I don't want that taken away from me as well.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha's soft voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

My eyes flicker up to her green eyes. They have a certain softness to them, and I wasn't used to being asked questions like that.

"I'm fine," are the words that come out of my mouth, but the voice in my head is saying otherwise. "Look, I'm not really sure why you helped me and I certainly do appreciate it, but I need to get out of here. You're not safe with having me here."

"Sweetheart, you're not going anywhere. Not in the condition you're in," Steve chimes in, and I flinch at the pet name that I've heard many times before.

I look back up at Natasha, wanting to question her why they're doing this and what was their purpose. She stands up, walks over to Steve, and takes a key out of his pocket.

He grabs her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"She doesn't feel safe here, can't you tell?" she states, while walking over to the bed frame, and uncuffing me.

Cautiously, I bring my arm closer to my body, eying her every movement. Nat reaches a hand out for me take, giving me a faint smile, and I reach my hand to grab hers. She helps me up, but my balance is off and my legs can't hold my own weight. Her grasp on me tightens and Steve also comes over and helps me stay standing. We walk out of the room, down the small hallway, and into a kitchen where another individual is standing that I can't seem to recognize. Steve and Natasha help me up on a chair at the kitchen counter and Natasha sits down in the chair next to me.

"She's not going to go all assassin on us, right?" the man says.

I shoot him a glare. "It's not that easy, but if you want to find out, by all means, go ahead," I reply, my words laced with sarcasm.

He looks at me, scared of what I would do to him.

"So, what exactly do you want us to call you?" Natasha asks me as she turns towards me.

It was never a concern to me to what people should actually call me. As I have many names I have been called, like I stated before, I don't know what my actual name is.

"Red is fine, but I-I..," I didn't know how to word my thoughts.

"But you want to remember who you are?" Natasha questions and I nod my head as I look at her.

"We'll help you. Everyone deserves to know where they come from," Steve states.

His generosity amazes me. I was planning on staying here until nightfall and then, getting the hell out of Washington, D.C., but now, I have other plans. Finding out who I am and maybe, I'll consider these people more than strangers, like friends or allies.

"Before I can begin figuring that out, I'd like to know whose lives I'm interfering with," I say with a smile.

The man I was talking to just a few minutes ago comes into view. "I'm Sam Wilson," Sam introduces himself and he extends his hand out to me, and I gladly shake his hand.

"Steve Rogers," the kind man next to me says, confidently.

He puts his hand out just like Sam did, but I didn't want to shake his hand because in the past twenty-four hours, he has done more for me than any other person has. For once, I can finally figure out what the hell happened to me without being afraid that my memories will be taken away from me.

"Red?" Steve questions.

I get up out of the chair, using the counter to help me stay upright as I walk over to Steve, and ignore his hand as I wrap my arms around him. His body froze for a second before relaxing and wrapping his arms around me. In the terms of affection, I never received it, let alone gave it out. Closing my eyes, I see that girl again, but this time, there's a man hugging her, like he's her father. He looked familiar, but I've seen a lot of faces over the years. When I open my eyes again, I get out of Steve's embrace and smile at him. He smiles back and nods at me like he knew what I was going to say next. Turning around, I make my way back over to my seat and sit back down, waiting for the woman next to me to introduce herself.

"Now that you've finally met those two idiots, I'm Natasha Romanoff, but call me Nat," Nat says with a smirk on her face, and she gives my hand a squeeze.

***

After being introduced to everyone, Sam made breakfast, and let me tell you, I'm now in love with blueberry pancakes. For the sixty-five years I've worked for Hydra, I've never once encountered such a beautiful creation as Sam's marvelous blueberry pancakes. Once everyone was finished eating, they scattered into different directions of the small house, but here I am, still sitting in the same chair in the kitchen, not exactly sure what to do. But one thing I want to do is shower because I feel gross and I probably look even worse. Carefully, I sat up and notice that I'm beginning to get my strength back. Everything is going to change, the voice in my head says, and I agree with it.

Walking back to the room I was in earlier, I find Steve, Nat, and Sam sitting in the room, examining all my weapons and my blood-covered uniform. They seem to not notice me, so I stand, leaning against the doorframe, watching them amusingly. Their eyes widened when they realize how many weapons I carry around with me. I think it's normal, but I guess, in this day and age, it's not common. But at the same time, I know Red hates the fact that they are going through her belongs.

"We might've agreed to help each other out, but there's a fine line when something is okay or not," I say, trying not to let myself get too angry. "I understand you want to know the assassin I was created into, but you could've just asked me instead of trying to make assumptions."

They all freeze once they acknowledge that I've been standing there for a while. Steve and Same look over at me, the blood drained from their faces like they been caught by the police. In my head, I curse at myself, knowing that that's not the way I wanted to react, but Red likes to protect what's hers. The other part of me, says otherwise. I really need to figure out who I am.

"Wait, I didn't mean to sound rude. It's just th-" I try to apologize for my actions, but Steve cuts me off.

"It's okay. You're adjusting to a new life, we understand," he assures me, but I still regret doing so

I let out a sigh before entering the room, and taking a seat on the floor, next to the bed. My uniform laid on the floor in front of me and I pick it up to examine it. Every bone in my body wanted me to burn it and rip it to pieces, but it's the only thing I've ever known and the only thing I want to keep in my possession.

"For sixty-five years, I thought wearing this uniform was normal. I thought my missions were normal. And the funny thing is that the only name I ever remember having is the Red Ghost. Over the years, somehow I managed to grab ahold of humanity and I broke. The moment I started to remember things, those blood thirsty wolves wiped my memory clean just so I'd stay focused and then, back in the chamber I went until they needed me ," I begin to speak my heart out while a lump forms in my throat, making me want to scream. "Once I began to focus again, they rewarded me by not making me work alone anymore and that's how I met Winter. He's a troubled soul and god, I wish he'd wake up from his trance and understand why I ran!" my heart is pounding out of my chest and my grip of my uniform tightens.

Nat put her hand on my shoulder. "Keep going," she whispers, like she knows how much I needed to speak to defend my behalf.

Letting go of the uniform, I look at the closed blinds, relaxing before I continue. "Whenever Winter had a mission, I'd be right beside him and for a while, it began to feel... normal. But one moment in particular that stands out to me was when we were on a mission in Paris in 1978. There was this scientific convention and we were sent to kill one of the scientist, but as we were doing so, Winter said to me, 'Wait here, Princess,' but I realized after I made a scene, that he was eliminating a guard that stood in our way. And from there, we managed to find that damn scientist, but he looked familiar to me. Winter yelled, 'Red, kill him!' and without a second thought, I shot an arrow between his eyes. I don't know why that scientist looked familiar and I don't know why he's haunting my dreams and my memories," my voice sounds filled with regret as I talk about the things I can remember.

Only the sounds of cars passing by fill the air. There's so much to be said and there's nothing I want more than to answer the questions they have in order for them to trust me. I want to know who I am, but there are roadblocks in my way, keeping me from achieving my goal. If I can make this work, maybe I could help Winter do the same thing, but without him trying to kill me because let's face it, I can't help him if I'm dead.

"I have a question," Sam's voice breaks the silence that's in the room. "If the Winter Soldier was your... accomplice, why is he trying to kill you?"

Everyone's attention turns to me like they all have the same question that has been rolling around in their minds for days.

"When Alexander ordered the doctors to wipe Winter's memory, he looked at me, wanting me to stop them, but I couldn't. They pushed him back in the electromagnetic shock chair, his eyes went wide and the only thing i managed to say was 'I'm sorry' before I killed every damn guard in the holding cell. But I was too late to stop the doctors from wiping his memory and before I knew it, Alexander was telling me to run. He instructed Winter to kill me because know information about Hydra that I should've forgotten about a long time ago," I explain to the three who are wanting to know and they all nod their heads slightly as they realize what I had to do.

"Alexander Pierce?" Steve questions and I nod my head.

I notice that Nat has been awfully quiet as I explained my situations. Looking over at her, I find her quizzically looking back at me. My eyebrows knit together, confused about why she's looking at me the way she is.

She turns towards me completely. "What have you remembered about your past life since you've woken up?"

And then I realized that I haven't really thought about the things I remembered. They seem like pictures lost in the vast darkness of my mind, waiting to be acknowledged again. Somehow, all of these things are connected, but to my knowledge, I don't know how.

"A girl in a lab coat that almost looks like me and the scientist I killed back in seventy-eight," I reply, collectively.

All Nat does is simply shake her head, and tries to piece together the little bit of information I've just given her. Maybe she'll be able to figure things out or maybe, just maybe another memory will come in the distant future.

If I could tell you how out of place I felt, I would, but I can't describe it. There's this dull ache that's trying to make its way to the surface, but I keep trying to push it down because I can't have anything distracting me. My body feels lifeless and without a purpose while sitting in a room with three people that were nearly strangers yesterday. My mind takes me back to yesterday when the news was talking about the five people I murdered in cold blood, yet I feel no remorse for what I did. I felt threatened and that's what happens when someone crosses the line, but it shouldn't be that way, ever. They probably had families and a life to get back to, yet I killed them because I wanted to. Taking deep breaths, I calm myself and come back to reality since I've been zoning quite often today.

My body senses someone staring at me, making it feel like there's holes burning into my skull. My eyes travel to the blonde haired super soldier that sat on the bed above me and his blue eyes were fixated on mine.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I ask, nervously.

His eyes were filled with sympathy and a hint of sadness lays behind them. I've always been good at reading people, but I can say that he's doing one hell of a job of hiding his true feelings.

"Your eyes. They're so blue," he answers, like he's shocked to see someone with my color eyes. "They remind of someone I used to know."

My heart aches for the man. "Who?"

"My best friend, Bucky Barnes," he states, as his eyes dart from my eyes to his hands.

A/N - hello, hello! i've been writing a lot so i thought i'd randomly update for those who read this story! have a great day - kenzie (: