One Year Later

A year has gone by, and not much has changed. I've been too distracted by my work that I don't pay attention to much, but the Avengers have grown to trust me more than they did before. Trust me when I say this, but I have my really good days and my really bad days; some days, I'd rather disappear and others, I simply want to save the world, but I'm incapable of doing just that. As of my memory, I've only gotten bits and pieces back, but it still doesn't any sense to me and I've decided that it's time to start living now instead of dwelling on my past.

But even after a year, I can't bring myself to talk about the things I've done and open up to the friends I've become relatively close with. I guess that's how it's always going to be, but I don't mind it much. In the meantime, in the subject of my own madness, I've created a board. On this board, lies all the knowledge I've obtained about myself and the whereabouts of James Buchanan Barnes is. For some reason, I have this fear that my memory will be ripped away from me again and I'll never be able to remember it. So not only do I keep everything on the board, but I also write in journals as much detail as I possibly can so that if it does happen, I'll be able to bring it back. I hope.

"Avalon Jane Rawlins," a voice booms through the room, startling me as I drop all the papers that are in my hands, sending them scattering around the room.

Quickly, I throw a sheet over the board because I won't let anyone near it and tell them the information that's inscribed on it. The pencil I have between my teeth falls to the ground as I try and tidy up the room. Just like that dream you had three days after you escaped from Hydra. My attention goes to the one who just waltz into my room unannounced.

"Hey, Nat. What's up?" I say, awkwardly. Her eyes scan the room, noticing how messy it is. God, I really was a Forensic Scientist.

She makes herself at home by sitting down on the chair at the desk across the room, turning it to face in my direction. "You've been avoiding me since I told you we needed to talk," she states, and I look away from her gaze, knowing that to be the truth. "It's about your past. Before you became the Red Ghost."

The name rolls off her tongue with ease, my blood boiling at the name. I kept avoiding her the entire week because I didn't want to know. I'm afraid that it's just another thing that I've done and it'll change the perspective I have on myself, completely.

"I'm all ears," I reply, sitting down on the bed.

The air goes still and she looks conflicted, trying to find the right words to say.

"Lorenzo Rawlins was your father," Nat informs me, intriguing me to know more.

My eyebrows furrow together. "Yes, I've recognized that"

"You worked as a Forensic Scientist for the Rawlins Science and Research Company in Boston, Massachusetts," my mind tries processing this information, but I just can't understand the point of it.

"Why are you telling me this, Natasha?"

Her green eyes look into my blue, sympathetically, like she'd rather not tell me the real reason behind all of this. The rhythm of my heartbeat begins to become more rapid with each second that passes.

"On January 19th, 1949, a missing person's report went out for Dr. Avalon Jane Rawlins. Later that same night, her body was found in the trunk of a station wagon, outside of Worcester," the information seemingly hard to process in my mind. I don't understand. Why can't I remember any of this?

I shake my head, not completely believing what she's saying, but I know that'd she never lie to me about something as big as this. "What? I don't understand!"

"Secretly, your father, Lorenzo, worked alongside Hydra. He'd do anything for them. Once he became aware of the research you were conducting on the Winter Soldier, you became a threat to him," and I froze, unable to comprehend. "He gave you to Hydra, willingly, because he always put himself before his family. And then, he staged your death."

And that's when my memories start to align into a particular placement. The dream. That's the moment it all happened. My eyes close, the memory replays in my head and it feels like I've living through it all over again.

"You want to hear the best part?"

"Something good came out of this?" my stare hardens.

"You, the Red Ghost, and the Winter Soldier assassinated him in Paris, France in the spring of seventy-eight"

A missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle found it's way into place. A bigger picture is created and suddenly, it's like my entire life story has been put into the palms of my hand like a book waiting to be read. Lorenzo Rawlins is the man that haunts my memory with his blurry face and now, I can place a name to it and the face will become clear. No wonder why Paris seems so familiar to me.

***

My heart pounds in my chest as I shove my last journal into my backpack. The palms of my hands feel clammy and disgusting, and I try and wipe them off on my jeans, but the feeling still remains. Putting on the bag, I tighten the straps, wanting to feel the security of having it close to my body. As I don't have my weapons anymore, I need to find some other way to protect myself, but my combat skills are still with me because I've been training a lot in my free time, when I'm not trying to piece my life together.

"When are we leaving?" I hear Clint ask as he leans against the entrance of my doorway.

"We?" I shoot back at him, quizzically.

He walks over to me, bringing his things in with him like he plans on going with me. "If you're going to Boston, then so am I because I sure as hell wouldn't let you go alone."

As much as I would love to argue, it's just Clint, and over the past year, I've grown so close to the man that he's almost like a father to me. One that would never make me suffer in the way Lorenzo did. I relax, noticing how tense I am when he came into the room, but nonetheless, I think this roadtrip will benefit the both of us because soon, I know that it'll become hectic as ever and the world will need to be saved.

"What do these five words say? I can't read Russian," Clint asks, while looking at the board that I forgot to cover up.

Immediately, I run over to it, trying to throw the sheet back over it, but due to his height advantage, he stops me from hiding it away.

"Good, you don't need to know"

He eyes me, warily, with the sheet in his hand, he examines the mystery board. Curiosity fills his eyes as he gapes at it, trying to figure out why I kept this to myself. Quite frankly, I don't know why I have it in the first place, I just needed some sort of way to keep myself sane and ironically, researching has been very efficient.

A laugh escapes my lips. "It says, 'I really hate Clint Barton'," making Clint laugh and playfully push me.

"Gee, I don't know. Last time I checked, you strongly disliked Tony because he's almost as stubborn as you are," Clint's words are filled with pure sarcasm. "Why do you have this board anyway?"

"Something to pass the time. I've been trying to find someone, but until recently, I found myself trying to piece together my own identity," I admit to him, but finally saying the words aloud brings the idea to life. "And now, I realize why everyone says I'm complicated to figure out."

He places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze. "I think we should be going before anyone decides to question our motive."

Boston should hold all the answers I need to put my past life back together.

a/n - hey there! i've been updating everything today, i'm telling you! so, i really hope you enjoy this chapter and i'll see you on the flipside! - kenzie