Life started over, on a different note.  Knowing that I wouldn't die was a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, and while I still slept with my knife under my pillow, my grip on it did not leave my hands red when I woke up in the morning.  

Sharon and Shuri tried to help me with my wardrobe.  After being set on wearing greys and blacks in Hydra, then reds in Crimson Night, I wore something sunny for the first time in my life.  A loose yellow blouse, paired with denim shorts.  Hydra made me wear my long hair down, it would always get in my face in combat and I think the officers liked to see me struggle with it.  With Trish, I cut it to my shoulders and always tied it up somehow.  Braids, buns, and ponytails became a part of my routine.  But, when I that day I decided to let it down.  It felt comfortable because it wasn't being pulled tightly away from my face.  

With many of my injuries still prominent, I spent several days in my room.  The adventure to the storage room in search of reading materials was certainly fun, no one even knew about it.  S.H.I.E.L.D. naturally does not have a lot of entertaining reading materials, but I was able to find some books on its history as well as Hydra's.  Sharon raised an eyebrow when she saw those delightful texts sprawled across my bed, but she didn't say anything.  And so I read, finding out about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s origin and the Avengers was interesting, but the Hydra stuff I was already taught back in the days when I was their prisoner.  

Ollie's necklace stayed on the desk in my room.  I didn't feel worthy of wearing it anymore.  

Eventually I did come out of my room and into that living space.  Lamely flaked across the couch, I watched TV.  One day the Winter Soldier (should I call him that?) and the Falcon were there, but most times they were off on some weird mission.  The day that they were there I offered a strained smile and said casually, "Nice weather today,"

It was raining.  

Mr. Barnes nodded and the Falcon asked, "You like the rain?"

"Sure," I shrugged.  It wasn't really a lie.  Rain took me back to the times when Papa would teach me lessons in our cabin; it took me back to the times of peace and simpleness.  I couldn't say that, though, my life back then was precious to me.  By speaking of it the memories could be altered.  

Unfortunately, by the time I thought of something to say, the conversation had died and the duo had left.

Shuri came and went as she pleased, and I wished I could have seen more of her than what I was given.  She was very much my age- although ten times smarter- and I liked her because she was so witty and frank and openly kind to me.  However, knowing her duties as a princess, Shuri did have to return to Wakanda frequently.  I asked Sharon, "Why does Shuri visit?  There's much fucking better places elsewhere."

Agent Thirteen said, "Please watch your language, Elissa."  That proves my point:  Shuri is better than Sharon Carter.  But, the blonde agent told me quietly, "She follows up with James Barnes quite a bit, she was the one who freed his mind from Hydra."

"Why would she do that?"

Sharon paused, and then answered, "Why wouldn't she?  That man's been through enough, he now can find solace that he will never again be out of control in his own mind.  Shuri cares, that's why she strives to help people.  Some people care for themselves, others care for the world beyond themselves- they recognize that one's identity will be shaped from the events of their life, although those events do not define them wholly as a person."

"Shuri knows that Mr. Barnes isn't a murderer," I stated.

"Shuri knows that James' past is not a testimony to his character.  She only saw him as someone she could help." said Sharon confidently.  

For some reason that made me like Shuri even more.

Matt's wounds did heal, as well as some of the phantom pain.  Criz no longer buried my emotions or smothered the hurt; some days at S.H.I.E.L.D. were tougher to cope than others, but ultimately the heavy weight I bore under Crimson Night lessened.  Once I became more active, discovering their gym to work out in and trying my hand at cooking, Sharon decided that it was time to reveal the plan to shut down Criz and all of Crimson Night.

Everyone was present:  The Falcon, Mr. Barnes, Sharon Carter, and Shuri.  We sat around the table in the living area, I kept myself a short distance away from everyone, however.  Someone had bought Jolly Ranchers, I found the stash in the cupboard.  So there I was, munching candy after candy silently trying to handle the tension raising in the air.  

Who should talk first?  I don't wanna talk first, I thought, the presence of an agent, an ex-assassin, royalty, and an Avenger was kind of intimidating.  Yes, I discovered that the Falcon was an Avenger (and I guess I should call him by his real name, which I discovered too:  Sam Wilson).  Anyway, I was fortunate enough to be spared of talking as Mr. Wilson started off, "There's been twelve new Criz-related deaths this week- in Washington DC alone."  My heart sunk thinking of the wretched body Criz and other drugs can create whilst taking someone's life.  Mr. Barnes added, "Washington seems to be Crimson Night's new focus."

"That must be new," I said.  "We never really targeted different areas, it was a more generalized approach." 

"The drug mixture has changed too, we are finding more remnants of other substances- including low doses of heroin and cocaine- dissolved in Criz.  Crimson Night is certainly aware of what they're doing-"

"They're creating a more powerful drug to raise sales," Sharon finished for Mr. Wilson.  "But they're creating a more lethal one as well."  

Something about Crimson Night's leadership had to be off.  Trish's father had just died, leaving her in an almost catatonic state.  Patricia Cruz was in no position to be making drastic changes to a plan that had gone swimmingly for her father for decades!  "Someone else must be in charge." I concluded.  Everyone looked at me.  

"You are strong, Elissa."

It was time to do something right with my life.

"I know Crimson Night better than anyone," I said, "Their leader, Azazel Cruz, passed away in September.  His daughter, Patricia or Trish, was his heir.  She loved her father so much, she would never change the production of Criz that went so well for Crimson Night for years- at least not so soon after his death.  Trish was in a catatonic state when I left, she had lost everyone in her family and couldn't even give her father a proper burial.  There is no way that she is making the decisions right now, it has to be someone else."

All was quiet until Shuri asked seriously, "Who do you think it is?"

I thought for a moment.  The obvious guess would be Tobias, he was married to Trish and they had a deep bond.  But, Tobias didn't seem like the kind of guy who would immediately alter Crimson Night- he was very rigid with the gang's traditions and rules.  The only other person who had a remotely similar position was-

"Matt," I answered.  Matt was somehow in charge, and we were all fucked.  Pieces started falling together for me.  Washington DC became Crimson Night's new target because that's where the Triskelion is, and that's where I am currently located.  Matt knew that this would be the place S.H.I.E.L.D. would take me, thus he would break apart their world.  Does he want me to return to Crimson Night?  Or does he want vengeance?  Either way, everyone around me is fucked, I thought.  Matt's explosive nature would ensure that he never would never stop until he gets what he wants.

Crunch.

I had to break the eery silence by chomping on a cherry Jolly Rancher.  Everyone looked at me.  "Jesus," I grumbled.  "What now?"

Every single time someone died, I would watch.  Waiting in the wings, I hid in order to survive.  S.H.I.E.L.D. knew as well as I did that I was dispensable, and it was my turn to play the sacrifice card.  Images of my cabin in the woods slipped away like water running through hands, but I was okay.  If there is a god, then maybe I'd be fulfilling my deal with them.  I knew what I had to do.

"I'm going back," I said.  

"What?" exclaimed Shuri, and Sharon, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Wilson shared looks of concern.

Rising to my feet, I told them, "If I can somehow get into Crimson Night again, I can tear them apart from the inside.  I know who to talk to- maybe Trish and Tobias can be turned onto our side, and-"

Mr. Barnes spoke up.  "Elissa, you'll get yourself killed.  Matt will kill you."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I scoffed, much to everyone's dismay.  "Anyway, I'm more likely to survive than any of you."

"What do you intend on doing?" asked Shuri, exasperated, "Going back and begging Crimson Night to let you in again?  That won't work, genius!"

"Exactly." I answered.  "Matt may be difficult, but he can be easily persuaded.  I know him well enough- he'll offer me some position, at least.  There's a reason that he is targeting Washington:  Matt still cares about me.  Whether he cares kindly or wants revenge, if I go back I can be let in easy enough."

"The supply locations of Criz have probably changed," Mr. Wilson pointed out.

"I can figure that out," 

"What if they don't let you in?" asked Shuri.

"I guess I'll figure that out, too," I said.  That's how I dealt with everything, right?

By that point Sharon and Mr. Barnes knew there was no stopping me.  Mr. Wilson was apprehensive, but eventually agreed to my idea.  Shuri was protesting, she suggested that we use Wakanda for aid in finding tools to spy on Crimson Night.  It almost made my heart swell, it sounded as if Shuri actually gave a damn about me.  I knew this was what I had to do:

My life has been eventful, but miniscule to the rest of you.  All the work I've done, I've done in secret.

I have no name.

I am an outsider to S.H.I.E.L.D..  I am an outsider to Crimson Night.  I am an outsider to Hydra.  But, what does that also make me?  

An insider.

I am a hunter and gatherer- collecting data as if it were food.  Every piece of information I receive is another shot at survival.  That is what our purpose is in life, to survive.  My mind is a chest full of secrets; systems and dates and events are carefully organized, protecting me.  Remaining on the outskirts of life has protected me.  But at the same time as being an outsider, I am an insider- knowing deeply of the world around you will keep you afloat.  It's the only way to survive.  

It's the only way to make things right.