Two Assassins Sitting In A Tree

What's In A Name?

The Captain never told his handlers that he and The Winter Soldier got off topic on the mission, but from the angry looks on their faces, The Soldier had. The Captain wasn't mad at him. They'd trained him to do that, and they always had to follow instruction.

But the Captain never could be able to harness the part of him that demanded that he didn't. So he often broke the rules. He got caught more often than he'd like, though.

"We have told you many times that you are not to speak to each other when you are on missions. You have disobeyed again." One of them said, pacing in front of where the Captain has been forcibly seated.

The Captain didn't speak, just slowly watched the other pace.

"I wasn't going to wipe you before sending you to cyro, but you have given me no other choice. Think about that while your mind is on fire. Only pain comes to those who disobey." The man said sternly, before turning on his heel and walking out stiffly.

The Captain was shoved back, scowling at the person that had touched him. They moved to the machine to get it ready, fumbling slightly under the Captain's cold glare. A part of the Captain was glad he was making this person afraid. Another was telling him it was HIS fault that that person had to do this to him. It was his mistake, and he'd have to pay the price.

As the machine squeaked to life, a thought flashed his mind— would The Soldier have to pay for his mistake?

—

The Captain was crouched in the closet, shield held up to cover his body, and also so when the person walked in he could shove the shield upwards to knock them off balance. His knees were starting to ache from staying in that position for so long, but he ignored them.

It was a simple mission. When the agent got home, kill them, and then stand guard as the agents of HYDRA came in to see if there was anything useful before torching the house. After a long time, he heard it. The front door opening. Not too long now.

-

The job was fairly easy. The agent didn't see it coming in the slightest. As soon as they opened the closet— boom. Shield to the face. The rest of the events made The Captain's stomach twist, though he didn't know why. He had been told to it. It was his job. His mission. So he just swallowed the sick feeling down and left the room. He was supposed to secure the house for the HYDRA agents.

The Captain made his way through each room, checking them for cameras or bugs. He made his way to the front door again, twisting the deadbolt a bit rougher than necessary, but it didn't break, so it didn't matter.

Next room.

Clear. Window locked

Next.

Clear. Window locked

Next.

Clear. All-

The Captain faltered in his step towards the kitchen door. He stared at the table, where a stack of files lay. Slowly, he moved towards them, but stopped.

No. Secure the house. So he checked the the door, and it was locked.

All the rooms, checked.

Now, he no longer had a mission to complete, except to let the HYDRA agents in once they got there. Until then, what was he supposed to do?

With no real mission to be completed, he let his mind wander. What were those files on? What did they say?

Then, his body seemed to move on it's own. He was walking back into the kitchen, to the table where the files sat.

He ran a hand over the name on the first file. Margaret "Peggy" Carter. He opened it, and a pretty woman smiled at him. Something about her was slightly familiar, made him feel a bit warmer inside, but it didn't do much. Maybe he knew her. Maybe they were friends.

Not knowing was hard.

The Captain let the file fall shut and he pushed it to the side. Howard Stark. A big red 'Deceased' over his name. Nothing stirred inside him. He pushed it to the side.

The next one made him freeze completely.

James "Bucky" Barnes. A red "deceased" over his name too. The Captain flipped the file open, and a breath caught in his throat.

There was a picture of a man, in a neatly tilted military hat, half-smiling at the camera. The edges of the picture were worn out, and the picture was in black and white.

James Barnes. Bucky.

The Captain squinted his eyes, imagining the lower half of James' face being covered, and long hair on him.

Bucky. The Winter Soldier.

The Captain shut the file quickly as a knock came at the back door. Good thing it wasn't a glass door, because if the Captain was caught looking through those, he'd be in trouble.

He marched forwards, unlocking the door and pulling it open for the agents. The first agent gave a slight nod in his direction, before they all filed in. The Captain shut the door once the last one had come through, clicking the lock shut again.

As one of the agents picked up the files off the table, the Captain caught sight of another name.
Steve Rogers. A big red "Deceased" over the name. But Steve wasn't dead. He was still somewhere inside the Captain. The Captain could still hear him sometimes.

The Captain stood there, hands gripping onto his shield as he tried to hide the fact that he had disobeyed again. In fact, he was still disobeying.

He'd been told to ignore memories, if he got them. Been told they weren't real. But right now, they were his main focus.

It was fuzzy, barely there, but he could still see it.

"See, That wasn't too bad-!" Someone laughed next to him. The Captain before The Captain turned to the person who spoke. It was the man from the picture. James Barnes. Bucky. The Winter Soldier— it was hard to string those names all onto one person.

"C'mon, Steve. It wasn't that bad," James Barnes laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"I threw up all over that lady's shoes, Bucky. It was bad." The Captain- no, Steve said. Those names were hard too.

"Captain!" One of the agent's yelled at him, and he looked up. He'd been trying so hard to get the memory stuck in his head, to milk it of all the details, he'd forgotten to listen for orders. It did please him, however, that the memory stayed fresh in his mind. Maybe he'd lie again, just to keep that little fragment of his old life, just for himself. Maybe for the Soldier—was it Bucky to him now?—too, but that might be too risky.

"Let's go," the agent said sternly, walking out the door.

The Captain. No. His name wasn't Captain. It was Steve. Steve. Steve followed him.

—

"Mission report, Captain." One of his handlers said, squinting at him.

Steve. Steve. Steve. His name was Steve. Steve.

"Captain! Mission report!" The man snapped in his face, trying to grab his attention.

Steve. Steve glared at him. "Steve." He whispered

It was a sudden impact—knuckles slamming into his temple. He slouched over to the side, before sitting back up. It hadn't hurt too bad. He was still Steve.

"Your name is not Steve, Captain. I hear you say that name again, I'll wipe your mind down to mush. Now, the mission report."

Steve...

No. He was Captain Hydra. Not Steve. Saying he was Steve was disobeying.
And only pain came to people who disobeyed.

But still, a part of him wanted to keep disobeying. So as he gave the mission report, he just repeated the name in his head. He might not be Steve, but a part of him was.