I wake up in yet a different location. It's a bed, the most comfortable one I've slept on in years. It smells good, too. My shoulder still hurts, and the bandage is sticky with blood.

As I sit up, I take in everything I can. It's not a grand room, nothing like I would expect an Avenger to have. Like someone just moved in a few days ago and hasn't gotten time to unpack. There's a small couch in the corner, with a few books and pencils scattered around. Some black and white photos are framed and arranged neatly on a dresser. And there's a little American flag pinned up on the wall. Ah. Steve's room.

I glance at myself in the small mirror. I'm still in my black jeans and pink shirt from yesterday, and my long hair is an absolute mess. I pull it into a ponytail. My hand reaches to twist the doorknob open, but I hesitate. What will they do? I can't trust any of these people. I haven't trusted anyone in so long. And the last one I did stabbed me in the back. My track record with people over the last few years hasn't been ideal.

It's not like I can stay in here forever, though. And I'm hungry. If they try anything, I'll be able to escape. Hopefully. These things around my ankles are heavy. But I still think I could run faster than any of them. Inspired by this, I push open the door.

Loud conversations come from what must be the main room. I creep out somewhat awkwardly, trying to figure out who is there. The Widow and Steve are sitting at the bar having breakfast. Both stop talking when they see me.

"Hi America," she says, giving me a small smile.

"Um, hi."

"Let's go get you cleaned up," she says, probably noticing my bloody bandage and day-old clothes. I nod gratefully and she leads me down the hallway. "Here's my room. I'm Natasha, by the way."

She opens the door into a small room that once again isn't exactly what I expected. The walls are a light blue, and there is a huge shelf above the bed filled with CDs. She goes straight to the closet and starts rummaging through racks. "We look like we're close in size. You can try this, but let me fix your shoulder first." I just nod, and she carefully unwraps it. "You're not very talkative, are you?"

"I'm not used to talking to people," I reply. She digs a first aid kit out from under her bed and begins to clean out the wound. I don't react. I was taught how to withstand much worse than this silently.

"Did you do these stitches yourself?" I nod again. "You did a good job. It's not easy to sew your own skin back together."

"I've had experience," I say, shrugging, then wincing at the pain it causes.

"How did you get this, anyway?"

Should I tell her? She'll probably find out anyway. "I was trying to get home a few days ago, when all that stuff with Loki happened, and I took the bullet for Steve."

"He knew you before this?" She asks, arching an eyebrow.

"No!" I say quickly. "I mean, kind of. He told me he would forget he found me. I didn't want to deal with SHIELD." I don't want Steve to get in trouble for protecting me.

"I don't blame you for that. They're kind of irritating." She chuckles as she wraps up my shoulder again. "This should be better in a few days. Get dressed and come on back out, okay?"

"Thank you," I whisper. I take the clothes from her. She hesitates at the door.

"You look like you have something on your mind."

I do. It's something that's been bothering me for a little bit now. Everything I've ever learned goes against how she's treated me. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Her eyes darken a bit, like shutters closed, but she smiles grimly. "I know what it's like to be ashamed of yourself." She leaves without another word. I pull on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Simple, but comfy. And the sleeves cover my brand. Even better. Whether she meant to or not, Natasha thought of everything.

"Hey," Steve says when I come back into the main area. "You can help yourself to anything for breakfast. There's a lot, we all like different things."

"Okay." I grab an apple and a glass of water before sitting on the stool next to him. I stare into my cup for a few minutes, unsure of what to say.

"I never got to thank you for that," he says, nodding to my shoulder. "So thank you."

"You're welcome." I heal faster than average, anyway, because of the serum. Then, before I can stop myself, I ask, "What do you know about me?"

He sighs. "I know that the information I got is because they hurt you. I don't think using that information is fair. So why don't I forget what they said and let you explain for yourself?"

"I'm not good at connecting with people," I say, ducking my head. "I really haven't had to for years."

"Do your best. Whatever you say won't be wrong."

"Okay." I take a deep breath. Something inside of me is telling me to trust him, but I don't. "I guess you already know I was a Hydra operative. They took away my memories. I've put together a shaky picture of what happened.

"When I was a teenager, Hydra took me away from my family. Then they began experimenting. I became not only a Super Soldier, but one of the world's first enhanced humans. I'm faster than anyone else on the planet, unless they've come up with someone better by now. They called me the Night Wind, because I would kill so quickly. I don't remember most of my time under, but every once and awhile, something comes back.

"At one point, I must have realized what was really happening. I knew they were using me to hurt people. I knew I was being messed with. So one day, when I was on a mission, before they could erase my plan, I ran. And I just kept running. Used the ability they gave me to escape. Cut the tracker right out of my arm and buried it somewhere in on a mountain in Russia. I got onto the first plane I could. Sitting on that plane, I realized I knew absolutely nothing about myself, who I was. But I landed in Miami and lived on the run for a few years. I would never get too comfortable, because I'd always have to leave. I've been in New York for about two years now."

"If you don't really know who you are, how did you get your name?" He asks.

I hesitate. "You'll laugh."

"No, I won't." I raise my eyebrows. "You can trust me."

If only that were true.

I decide to tell him. Even though I don't trust him, I want to. "When I ran away from Hydra, I stole some money to get on the first flight away from Russia. It ended up being a plane to the United States. Sitting in that plane, flying away from them to somewhere I could finally be safe, I realized how much I loved America, even though I had never been here. I didn't have an identity, so I called myself America, because of the chance it gave me."

"I like that," he says, nodding. "I'm sorry about yesterday. About everything, really."

"It's fine. You were doing your job."

He chuckles. It's the first time I've heard him laugh. "You're not a bad person, you know."

"What makes you say that?" If only you knew half of what I've done.

"Because," He says, grinning, "you saved my life, turned Tony down multiple times, and somehow trusted me enough with your story."

I smile. "Don't tell everyone else yet."

"I won't." The look in his eyes is sincere. He wouldn't lie to me. "That's the first time I've seen you smile."

"I don't smile often," I tell him.

"You should."

Hey guys! We get a bit more of America's story told by her, what do you think?