The ground was hard and cold and uncomfortable. It was safe, familiar and soothing in ways that ordinary mattresses were not. It was his spine that was making pain flare through his whole back, as if lava was running in his backbone. His skin was itchy and tender and he could feel the tiny pieces of sand that pressed into his skin. He slowly turned himself around, eyes still closed as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

claws, piercing through skin and bone like butter.

He pushed himself on his hands and knees, clutching his stomach in pain. Everything was too sensitive, too rough, too loud, too smelly, just... too much.

The taste of blood on his snout.

He coughed, blinking his eyes open, coming face to face with a dirt-covered floor. His hands were covered in old-looking bruises and dried blood. His fingers curled around the hilt of a knife that was buried into his abdomen. He bit down a growl, realizing the skin around it had long ago started to heal.

A blood-curdling scream as his hand pierced through someone's rib cage, fingers curling around the heart and pulling it out with a disturbing lurch.

The knife clattered on the floor, drops of blood following close behind. He stood up on shaky legs, finding help from the wall. He would have stayed there, would have allowed himself to heal but he couldn't. He fought the flashbacks, feeling the urge to vomit at the stench of blood that clung to him.

Ripping someone's neck open, pulling their head from the body after having broken their spinal cord.

His shaky hands combed through his outgrown, greasy hair.

What had he done?

He assessed his surroundings, realising it was someone's old garage, smelled of mould and dirt water. His dress-shirt was barely hanging from his shoulders, the tie he had worn for the funeral was gone. His shoes were missing, he had liked those shoes.

He wasn't sure about his location, unable to remember how he'd gotten there. Well, he knew how, just couldn't remember yet. He made his way towards the door, pushing it open carefully. Though before he could take a step outside, someones hand landed on his shoulder.

He grabbed their wrist, hauling them over his shoulder and right into the thin garage wall. His heart rate slowed as the person bounced back, though they gracefully landed on the floor, stepping back to give him space.

William was frozen on spot, letting his instincts run haywire, unable to comprehend the fact that he hadn't sensed them.

She was tall, lean and familiar. Her grey eyes were guarded as she straightened up, reluctantly relaxing herself to make herself seem less threatening. William didn't buy it.

She removed her muzzle, quite the one like William used to wear. The face underneath was a stranger.

"I am here to warn you." her voice was accented and slightly raspy. The German accent made him wary, he knew he wasn't in no shape to really take down another swarm of agents but taking down one was not a problem.

Her blond hair was pulled back, showing off her high cheekbones and naturally round face. The left side of her face was scarred, as if a fire had carefully licked her soft skin. Her left eye was also a robotic one.

It was clear that she hadn't had an easy night. Four claw marks marred her right cheek, he didn't have to even wonder where she got that from.

"We're coming for you. Next time, we'll be better prepared."

His eyes flashed red in agitation. They might try all they want, but William wasn't going to give up his freedom now that he had his own mind, he'd die trying if he had to.

He remained silent, he wasn't going to small talk to her. He knew who she was, or more likely what she was. She was their last soldier, never quite used since, well, HYDRA didn't think a woman could do damage like a man could. William wasn't really sure about that.

"I'm not going to attack, I just came to warn you, they don't know you're here. And I've been gone too long." she backed away slowly, clearly wary herself since she was always ready to defend herself against him. He scanned the dark garage, realizing she had been there for a long time and yet, she hadn't done anything to him.

"Why?" his voice was cold, he didn't trust that woman. Especially since she was part of them, and despite still being herself, she was willing to go back to them, willingly believing their cause.

She halted, studying him carefully as if searching for something.

"I owe you. I was called Clara a long time ago. But that person is long dead, you should know that." and that was it, she offered no other explanation as she placed the muzzle back on, making Will nearly flinch. He hated that thing, how someone could use that willingly was beyond him.

As soon as she disappeared, William did as well. He had a dog to feed.

The moment he stepped into the hotel room, a large furry body collided with his. He groaned as her paws pressed against some of the bruises still healing, including the knife one.

"calm down." he said, pushing her face away as she kept dancing on her back feet, trying so desperately to give him kisses. She made small jumps, her large tail wagging and tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth as her light brown eyes were trained on him.

She whined under her breath, following him close behind, refusing to stay behind more than feet. He entered the bathroom, easily overlooking the rusty sink, cold -nearly green light- and the broken tiles. The mirror was covered and smeared with things he didn't want to imagine.

He threw off the stolen hoodie and turned on the faucet, cleaning himself up a little. Feeling the pinch of hunger made him sigh in annoyance, eating was not on his list of things to do, but looking down at the bright-eyed dog made him change his mind.

"So I guess you want that walk now?" he murmured, looking down at the dog who seemed to understand the word walk because as soon as he said it, her tail started wagging twice as fast.

"That's what I thought." he said gently, going back to washing his face.

He didn't have much, so packing up again took just ten minutes if even that. He would have preferred to leave in the evening, but the HYDRA spy made him uneasy, he had to move as fast as possible. Dog was patient with him, although it was obvious that she wanted to get out.

They stepped out after clipping the leash on her too fancy collar. They moved too slow, but he had to be mindful about her still healing paw. After a while, Will felt slightly annoyed at her need to sniff everything so, he simply picked her up. Both of her paws were on either side of his shoulders as she looked around keenly as if she was in a completely different world. They got odd looks, though most were from giggling women.

It confused William but he decided to ignore it since none of them was much of a threat.

After buying two beef burgers from a small stand outside a dog park, William unleashed Dog after making sure the gate was closed securely. At first, she followed him to the benches, looking around hesitantly. William sat down, placing one burger on the ground for the dog who chomped it down. He looked at his own food, sniffing it and taking a bite.

The taste of it was bland, but he wasn't a picky eater so he did eat some before giving it to the dog. She needed it more. He scanned the area before slowly leaning back into the white bench. A few smaller dogs were running around, chasing each other and their owners deep in conversation on the other side of the park. After a while, he took out his journal and pen. Though Dog still refused to wander off alone.

He pulled a hood down over his eyes, hiding his face from anyone's view before clicking the pen.

I messed up.

I held back, but they wouldn't leave. Why did I mess up?

And that woman, Clara? Why did she warn me? She could have taken me back, notified them of my whereabouts. But she didn't. Is it her plan? Make me believe her?

I can't. I can't trust them. I can't trust anyone. Can't even trust myself

I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane...

His writing got messier as English blended into Russian, into German, into Hungarian and French. The pressure on the pen increased as he suddenly stopped to take a deep breath.

John. John said I need help. But did you get help? Did someone heal you? Please, John.

Help me.

With that, Will slammed the journal shut. He looked towards the direction of the graveyard, it was a few miles to the east from where he was sitting. But he knew he couldn't go. It was gonna take some time before he could even think about visiting John.

He watched as dark spots appeared on the ground and his clothes, the other dog owners running to get their dogs to prevent staying out in the rain for too long. Dog came running back, having just wandered a few feet away from Will. He clipped the leash back on her, freezing when he realized he knew exactly what it felt like. A cold shudder of anxiety ran down his spine as he looked at the leash in his hand.

He dropped it, staring at the dog wide-eyed. He wanted to apologise, ask for forgiveness but she just sat next to him obediently, staring up and wagging her tail slowly.

The rainfall got heavier and so did Dog's fur. He turned towards the gates, Dog trotting next to him with ease, the leash dragging along.

"Hey, control your dog!" one of the dog owners hissed as her papillon shied away from Dog's large strides, though still barking at the bigger dog. Will pretended not to hear as he rushed down the pavement.

The rain seemed to scare people away as the streets got emptier. The temperature seemed to drop as he heard a rumble in the far distance, notifying everyone of an incoming thunderstorm in the night.

William had found a place between two buildings that were fairly fell covered, preventing any of the rain from falling on them.

Will sat on the cold ground, resting his head against the stonewall as Dog threw herself over his legs after having shaken out her fur. His fingers latched onto her fur as if it was a routine already, sliding through the knots with ease as he looked out into the blurry streets lazily.

"I did it again." he said quietly, confiding in the dog. He was met with silence, so he continued.

"How do I stop? I-I need someone to stop me. I-" his voice cracked and he clamped his mouth shut. His throat burned and the grip on her fur got stronger.

"I can't keep doing it. But I can't keep living out of control. I can't go back into the cage, either. I couldn't handle it anymore." he whispered, a pained look in his unguarded eyes as he looked down on the dog who kept starting up lazily, almost falling asleep at his steady strokes.

The truth was, William didn't know how to block his instincts, but he also didn't know how to stop himself. He didn't know who he was, what he was. He had nobody to confide in, the only familiar face was now six feet under. And they were after him, they were back.

As he saw it, he really had only one option left. But then he looked down at the dog, what would become of her? Who would look after her?

He was torn, he didn't trust anyone with Dog, but she didn't have a good life with him either.

His sombre bubble was popped by the feeling of something in his pocket, and then he remembered. The key, his key. He tugged it out, studying the rough key in the dim light carefully. It had really seen years. It was old, but obviously well taken care of. There was a faded spot on the end of the key, obviously meaning that someone had rubbed it repeatedly over the years.

He slid his thumb over the faded area, watching as the cold light mirrored off of it.

He curled his fingers around it, gripping the key firmly and bringing it up to his chest, pressing it over his heart.

That's where the key belonged to.

Behind closed eyelids, he could see the roads it pointed towards. And it screamed home.

William didn't have a home anymore but he had had one a long time ago, and he was going to visit it.

Steve sighed and sunk back into the couch, his head lolling back as he stared into the high ceiling with a blank look.

They had been on the self-given mission for weeks now, and the case seemed more and more hopeless with each passing day. Keeping tabs on people was almost impossible back in the 40s, especially with the war raging in numerous countries. Trying to track down their every move was even harder nearly a hundred years later.

Steve had gone to many missions, scouted out thousands of areas, researched twice as many people and never had he been on a dead end like that. Something just wasn't right about this.

"I don't like it." Bucky's smooth voice filled the silence, making Steve glance at him lazily. The ex-assassin was sitting with a strong posture, files raised to eye level as he kept rereading them over and over again.

They hadn't found anything new, just the fact that someone had lied, had sent a letter claiming to be a part of Steve's family.

The person who had sent the letter hadn't even existed. Had someone fooled his brother? Had they lured him into a trap? But if so, then why? He was just a kid who chased girls way out of his league and thought stealing a bottle of milk was cool.

"Neither do I." Steve admitted reluctantly. Though he hoped that somehow, someway, William had settled down, became a father, found love, had built a home.
Everything Steve dreamt of.

The elevator doors opened and Natasha strolled in, gliding past the two and heading straight into the kitchen. Steve didn't turn her much attention, but he did turn around when he noticed Bucky's eyes flash with curiosity.

“Rough mission?” he asked, noticing the slight limp as she strolled over to the fridge, her back facing the two.

“You could say that,” she said, pouring milk in her coffee before turning around and leaning against the kitchen table, sharp eyes landing on them and the neatly stacked papers that Bucky had turned face-down.

Steve raised an eyebrow as he noticed the dark bruise underneath her left eye. He straightened up, wondering who could possibly get this close to Natasha Romanoff to leave an actual bruise on her face?

Bucky let out a low whistle at the shiner, whoever gave it to her must be a big trouble.

“I hope you got whoever did that.” Steve said, turning so he was facing her better. While Bucky went back to his files, seemingly uninterested.

She looked down at her drink, suddenly feeling like she would need some wine instead of coffee.

“Soon. We'll get him soon.” she reassured herself more than she did Steve.

“Need help?” he offered immediately, though he knew the chances of Natasha Romanoff asking for help were down to zero. Especially if it was something to do with a mission she was leading.

“No, I've got this.” she answered confidently, pushing herself off the table. “You boys need any help?” she asked, side-eyeing the files Bucky seemed to be adamant about hiding from everyone. 

Before Steve could open his mouth, he answered with a short and cold “No”. Natasha didn't press anymore, simply gave them a nod and headed towards the elevator to head up to her floor for some long-needed sleep. She would have gone to her apartment but she was too tired to make the trek through the city.

“Do you know anything about Sam? We were supposed to go for a run but he didn't show up this morning. He usually tells me when he goes home for some time.” Steve asked with a frown.

Natasha stepped into the elevator, turning around as she cradled the warm cup against her chest. “He's in the med bay, but he's fine, he'll be out soon.” and with those last words, the doors closed.

Bucky didn't seem disturbed by those news at all, but Steve on the other hand, looked worried as he turned back towards the table with a frown.

“We should go to Brooklyn.” Bucky said suddenly, placing the papers town and crossing his arms. By the startled look in his eyes, he wasn't sure if Steve was ready to go back, but it could possibly lead to some answers.

“Is the building even there anymore?”

“Yes” the ex-assassin answered, standing up and collecting the reports. His metal arm caught the light, mirroring against the table in a way that Bucky didn't like. Though it was startling at first, Steve has gotten used to it.

“How do you know?” he asked curiously, standing up slowly as well. Buck stopped, his cold eyes flickered up to Steve's briefly.

“I... Went there. When I went rogue. It was still there.” his words were slow as if he was unsure of himself.

“We'll go tomorrow morning.” he said, glancing at the heavy rain outside.

Bucky left Steve alone, locking himself securely in the soundproof room provided for him. And he didn't come out for the rest of the night.

Steve stayed in the living room for a couple of hours, staring at the rain outside with a blank look.

Bucky was back, he wasn't really the same man he had met back then, but Steve himself wasn't either. Though there were days he missed the old Bucky, the one who could pull anyone into a conversation and make even the saddest people laugh. But the things he went through really weeded all the happiness out of him.

Still, he was glad Bucky was there with him. A piece of his old life stuck with him in this new age and era.

But what about his brother, what about William? He racked his brain for the days before he became a super soldier, tried to remember exactly what William had said, what he had said.

William hadn't wanted him to go, had nearly begged for him to stay. And what had Steve done? He left.

He hid his face into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he could vividly see Williams youthful face as he so confidently stepped between Steve and the door, looking at him as if he was an idiot.

He missed his snarkiness too.

An ache like no other opened up in his chest, he hadn't allowed himself to grieve. But it was time.

I want to make a Spotify playlist for Realization and Oblivion. BUT I want your help so, down below comment what songs you think should be in the playlist for:

Realization

Oblivion

Can't wait to start making them!

Qs: what do we think about Clara's appearance in the story? (Edit: reminder guys, we briefly met her in Oblivion 😊)

Thank you all for reading, lots of love and stay safe!
- K xx