[I have no idea what this is.]

The supposed 'Big Day', had merely been a talk with some shrink who had tried to get inside your head.

But you had turned the conversation around, twisting and curving your words to try and lead the shrink to let you out.

It almost worked, too, if Steve Rogers wouldn't have gotten there just in time.

You're beginning to grow bored in the small room, finding it hard not to scream and pound on the glass whenever the silence gets too much.

Bucky Barnes comes in every once and a while for a few hours, asking questions and answering some of your own. You trust him the most by default because of your time together in HYDRA and they know it.

"So, when are you going to let me out of here?" You ask, standing from your bed and press your head against the one way glass. "I'm starting to feel rather restless."

There's no response, so you continue talking.

"All this peace and quiet gives me the perfect opportunity to plot my escape, you know? But why would I try to escape if I gave myself over in the first place? Gee, now that doesn't make any sense, now does it, Winter Solider?"

The glass fades transparent, and Bucky stands on the other side with a scowl. "Do not call me that."

You hold up your hands. "Okay, okay. Don't have to be so defensive, Bucky."

"Only my friends call me that," He snaps angrily. "And you are not my friend."

"Yeash," Spinning around, you plop back on to the bed. "Okay then, Mr. Grumpy Pants. What should I call you?"

"My name is James," He starts slowly, looking like he's trying to convince himself that what he had said is true. "James Buchanon Barnes."

"James Buchanon Barnes," You echo, giving him a firm, almost playful nod. "So James. Like I said before, are they going to let me out of here? Perchance anytime soon?"

"You're still a spy for HYDRA, no?"

"No," You dust off the nonexistent dirt from your pants. "I just did what needed to be done when they called. Take out that man? Done. Go undercover for a night, slice out a woman's neck? You got it. Be a spy for HYDRA? No, not really my scene. I don't like lengthy jobs, James."

"Why do you do it?" He actually looks concerned for you, which would be totally adorable if he wouldn't be hovering his hand over the controls for the room. He could do anything from fry you on the spot to drop the temperature to below zero. "Why do you continue working for HYDRA when you know that all they do is kill people?"

"They pay well," You shrug, letting your eyes filter down for dramatic effect. "And where else would I go? I'm legally dead, my only skills are knowing how to shoot a gun and not get killed."

"I could help you," He says after a moment, and you look up in faux shock. "The team and I. We could teach you to be.. better. The helped me, right?"

You crack a smile, the one that only stretches across half your face. You only break out the big guns for desperate times, and right about now, when James is about to offer you a spot on the team, you're going to need everything you've got in the arsenal.

"That would be a dream," You bite the inside of your cheek, hating how cheesy you sound. "But HYDRA, they'd find me. They always do."

He walks up to the glass, crosses his arms. "They're looking for me as well, but Steve and the others, they've been making sure to keep my location a secret."

"So just like that, I'd become part of them team?"

"Well, we'd have to keep you under close monitoring until everyone feels like you're not going to sneak cyanid into their food."

You lie down on your back, keeping your gaze on the black ceiling. "Fair enough."

"I'll be back tomorrow with everyone. Try and get some sleep."

The lights click off and you roll over, pressing your hand to your mouth because that was just too easy. Soon enough, you'll be on their team.