Barnes brought the woman to the new Avengers "tower" which wasn't even a tower anymore, but a building made out of a lot of glass, something that made him feel uncomfortable every now and then. Yet he appreciated Stark for making all of this, and even after the civil war, Rogers trusted Stark, meaning that Barnes did too. Plus it was the most logical place where the billionaire could have brought the American hero.

The soldier followed him only a feet away, trying to stay as close to her captain as she could. Meaning when they entered the building, she didn't even look around for a second, instead she followed the assassin directly to her future room.

They crossed a lot of other rooms, none of them including any person. While they walked through the hallways, Barnes tried to find Rogers, searching every room with glass, his eyes entering every chamber without him actually wanting to, but he couldn't help himself. Steve Rogers was important to him, it was all that kept him going.

The two trained killers found themselves waiting in front of a white door, and that door lead to the soldiers room, which was right next to Barnes his room, as he wanting to have her as close to him as she could be, if something went wrong he would be there first, and it felt better knowing she was only seconds away.

But the woman didn't have any clothes, something that could become a problem. She still wore her "armour" that consisted of a black army trouser, having multiple pockets and a big belt around her waist. Both of her sleeves where long and her full body (except her arms and legs) had been covered with bulletproof material. She wore black gloves, clenching her shaking fingers, probably making it easier for her to punch someone. Overall, her suit almost matched his, though she was a woman and Barnes a man.

'This is your room, my room is on your right, Rogers his room is on your left,' the actually quit worried captain said, trying not to sound like this was an insane asylum and she would be here for experiments, that she would be used for bad things again. He just wanted her to feel save, and if possible with him.

'Who's Rogers?' she asked, pushing the door open to reveal a simple bed and a nightstand, a chair accompanied by a desk and a drawer, which included nothing but a blanket. She set down on the bed, waiting for Barnes to sit next to her, wanting to ask why he dragged her all the way from Russia to America for nothing.

'He's a friend of mine. Now I need to go, just settle down a bit and make sure to get some rest,' he whispered before turning around, leaving the soldier with an order she couldn't follow. She couldn't rest after everything that happened, after all the forgotten memories that would hunt her the second she closes her eyes. Yet she had to, because her captain told her so.

'I didn't want to kill your friend, it's just...' the man cut her off, knowing exactly what she wanted to say, as he had tried to say the same thing over and over again for the last year he had lived with his best friend. And the hero never understood, because he hadn't gone through that himself.

'I get it, don't worry. He'll be fine,' he responded, then he closed the door behind him, hoping to find that Brooklyn boy of his, wanting to see him fully awake and happy again. He just needed a stupid remark from his friend, or a funny joke only they got, he wanted him to wake up and whisper his own quote. He wanted him so bad, tough he understood that what happened to him would have probably startled the younger captain, which the ex sergeant could fully understand.

He walked through the hallways, hoping to find the room Rogers was laid in. And as he walked through the entire building, he found the philanthropist almost running into him, a worried and also relieved expression on his face making Barnes frightened.

They shared a short stare, their eyes met and without a word spoken the entire conversation had already been said. Every piece important information had been exchanged yet to make everything clear, Stark coughed before telling the man that killed Tony's parents where to find his best friend.

'End of the hallway, then go left. No one is there, but if you want to talk in privet make it quick. Also, he just woke up so take it easy on him,' the man that had spent his free nights to build the suit making him part of the team formed by heroes whispered, only to continue his way again.

'I brought someone with me; she has the room next me and Rogers. You can talk to her, but she is tired so I think it is best to let her sleep,' the killer said, then went straight ahead to have a conversation with his friend, which he wasn't looking forward to for some strange reason.

He went down the hallway, his eyes watching his every corner, afraid to be attacked, one of his many old habits. He clenched his fingers until his hand formed a fist, sighing he went left, hoping to find a smiling Steve Rogers on a bed with some sort of a book he could read. Barnes knew the young captain got bored quick.

Barnes stood against the door, his right arm colliding with the wood as he watched the defeated man lay on his bed. They shared a short stare, before the assassin actually came in, not really knowing why he hesitated, maybe afraid of what happened or afraid of what to come?

'Punk,' the killer said, reaching his best friend's right side, knowing the American always liked to be on the left. Their blue eyes met again, and they exchanged a smile, like they often did about a joke only they found funny or only they understood.

'Jerk,' the blond whispered. They chuckled loudly, trying to escape the silence and tension in the small room. Barnes had missed this, the laughs and the jokes. And after the day he had, with all the forgotten memories and his hunting past catching up with him, he couldn't blame himself for laying his own hand on his best friend's.

'I'm so sorry I didn't help you. You know I would have, if I could. How can I make it up to you?' Barnes asked, hoping to make the conversation as easy and slow as it could ne, not wanting to irritate the person that almost died in front of his eyes.

'You could start by telling me why you went back to Russia,' Rogers smiled softly, understanding how hard this topic must be for the veteran, as hard as it was for the captain of America too. They shared another quick glance, when suddenly Barnes took away his hand and stared at the ground, obviously uncomfortable.

'Because I want to understand why she called me captain,' he sighed. He wanted to ignore or try to at least not have this whole conversation. Only thinking about it was almost too much for him, let alone speaking about it. Tough he had his best friend by his side; it didn't make things easier, because after all, the soldier had to face this alone.

'But, you were a sergeant,' the blond protested, bringing up yet another forgotten memory. Barnes didn't remember what he was, if he had been a normal soldier or the sergeant of a group. Rogers normally never brought up memories or stories from the Second World War, yet for some strange reason he did now.

'If you say so, but that doesn't make things less weird,' he said towards the floor, not wanting to get an actual answer from his friend. Rogers made sure he was comfortable before he spoke again, asking another question that filled the man's head.

'What's weird?' the by super serum injected hero said, not even realizing that his question was wrong. The actual questions would be: what isn't. But the assassin answered his best friend, not wanting to ditch him with so many questions.

'Don't you think that HYDRA would have wanted me to remember her?' he asked, wishing for an answer that could make all of these suggestions banging against his head stop. Just this once, he needed an answer, he had to understand why he couldn't remember something, someone.

'No, that would make you harder to control, Buck,' the once frozen pilot of an airplane answered. Barnes looked up by the sound of his nickname, the name he had gotten used to. And though he knew that it wasn't his actual name, he took it with a big smile, as it was the only piece of humanity he had left.

'I guess, how old could she be?' he asked, question after questions filled his mouth, pushing against his lip to fill the room. But he swallowed it all in, not wanting to disturb his friend. This talk was already hard enough; he didn't want to make it any harder.

'For as far as I know, she could be 90 years old,' was the "solid" answer he got. He gave up; he wasn't going to say anything else that sounded like a question. He couldn't bare all the awful and not honest answers. Maybe Rogers knew how old she is, yet Rogers was the only one he trusted fully.

'Right, okay. We've got nothing so far,' he sighed, putting his hands against his head. He closed his eyes, just wanting to rest, but he couldn't. He couldn't rest, not after what happened today, not after all the information he was given, and all the information he had apparently forgotten.

'We could ask museums for help, maybe she was a war hero?' the always so positive little Brooklyn boy whispered, having not even a single idea what to do anymore. He was clueless; he was hurt, he was afraid, for nothing, for anything, for one particular person.

'Who says she's even that old?' Barnes said before standing up, ready to get away from this conversation. He couldn't bare the hurt look in his friend's eyes, the broken man that he hadn't helped when he most needed to. So he decided to get away, to go back to his soldier, and ask her for advice, though he knew she had just as many questions as him.

'We have to start at the beginning, which is the Second World War,' he heard behind his back. The man turned around, seeing his defeated buddy trying to get out of bed, but the assassin didn't stop him. When Steve put his mind to something, it was impossible to stop him.

'Then let's go,' the victim of so many nightmares whispered, coming back for his hurt friend, knowing this was exactly what the American wanted to hear. He wrapped his arm around the waist he knew best, the waist that belonged to his best friend and buddy. And when he noticed Rogers breath started to fasten, the soldier refused to let him come with him, changing his plan.

'Buck, she could be dangerous. We don't even know her trigger words. I need to see her first,' his friend said when his breath had finally stabilized, watching the killer's every move. Barnes turned around again, an angry look painted over his face, his voice cold, emotionless as he said his answers and left.

'No.'