ONE!!! JAMES!!!

IN A SMALL CONFINED ROOM, seven children huddled together, their expressions a mix of fear and confusion. They were more than just a group of children—they were family, bound not by blood but by shared suffering and resilience. They called each other by their assigned numbers, names stripped from them long ago by the merciless organization that had taken everything from them.

And then there was Seven, just five years old, her innocent eyes reflecting the confusion and fear of her older siblings. She didn't fully understand what was happening, but the terror in the eyes of those she trusted most told her it was something terrible.

The door to their room slammed open, and a group of HYDRA agents stormed in, their faces cold and unfeeling. Zero stepped forward, shielding the younger ones with her body. "Yes?"

One of the agents sneered, stepping closer. "It's time for your final test," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

What the fuck was the final test?

The children were forcibly lined up, their wrists restrained with cold, metal cuffs. Seven clung to Zero's hand, her small fingers gripping his with desperate strength. "It's going to be okay," Zero whispered to her, her voice shaking. "Just stay strong."

The agents moved methodically, injecting each child with a syringe filled with a strange, glowing liquid. The older children gritted their teeth, trying to remain strong for the younger ones, but the pain was evident in their eyes. When it was Seven's turn, she wasn't injected.

"Zero..."

"It's okay, Sev."

But deep down, Zero knew the truth. There was no getting through this. HYDRA had decided they were no longer useful, and this was their way of disposing of them. The agents showed no mercy, injecting the serum into each child without hesitation.

One by one, the children began to convulse, their bodies wracked with pain as the serum coursed through their veins. Seven watched in horror as her siblings, her family, fell to the ground, their screams echoing off the walls. Zero's grip on her hand tightened, her strength fading as the serum took its toll.

As the last of her siblings succumbed to the serum, Seven felt herself being dragged away. Her cries filled the room, a desperate plea for help that went unanswered. The agents showed no compassion, their faces cold and detached as they pulled her from the room.

"NO!" Seven screamed, her small body struggling against their grip. "Please, don't take me! Zero! One! Two! Help me!"

But there was no response, only the deafening silence of loss. The agents hauled her down a series of dimly lit corridors, her cries echoing through the empty halls. Seven's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and grief overwhelming her small frame.

They brought her to another room, sterile and cold like the first. An imposing figure stood waiting, his face hidden in the shadows. He stepped forward, his eyes cold and calculating as he looked down at her.

"You are the last, Seven," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "The others were weak. You, however, we still need you."

Seven trembled, her tears blurring her vision. "Where is my family?" she asked, her voice a broken whisper.

The man's expression remained impassive. "They are no longer relevant. You will forget them. Do you understand?"

Seven shook her head, her small fists clenched in defiance. "I won't forget them. I won't!"

The man's eyes narrowed, and he motioned to one of the agents. "Take her to the conditioning room. She needs to be reminded of her place."

TODAY FELT DIFFERENT FOR SEVEN.
There was a tension in the air that she couldn't quite place, a sense of something significant about to happen.

She was in the middle of her morning training session when a HYDRA agent approached her. "The Old Man wants to see you," he said curtly.

Seven's heart skipped a beat. The Old Man's summons were rarely good news. She nodded, wiped the sweat from her brow, and followed the agent through the labyrinthine halls to the Old Man's office. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more grim than the last. Had she done something wrong? Was she being reassigned? The agent led her to a heavy, reinforced door and motioned for her to enter.

The room was as stark and intimidating as always, with its bare walls and utilitarian furnishings. The Old Man sat behind his desk, his expression inscrutable. He was a figure of fear and authority in her life, the architect of her pain and training.

"Seven," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I have something to show you."

She stood rigidly, her hands clasped behind her back, and waited. The Old Man pressed a button on his desk, and a door on the far side of the room opened. Seven's breath caught in her throat as a figure stepped into the light.

It was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a familiar yet changed face. His eyes, a piercing blue like her own, locked onto hers. He looked older, more worn, but unmistakably... him.

"One," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Is it really you?"

The young man nodded, a tentative smile spreading across his face. "It's me, Seven."

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Seven felt a rush of emotions so intense it was almost overwhelming. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, before breaking into a run. She threw her arms around One, burying her face in his chest as the tears came, unbidden and uncontrollable.

"I thought you were dead," she sobbed. "They told me you were gone. I hardly remember your face. I... I was so scared I'd forget you all."

One held her tightly, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm here, Seven. I'm here now."

She clung to him, the memories flooding back in fragments—hazy images of their time together before HYDRA tore them apart. She had been so young, only five years old, when she last saw him. The intervening years had blurred those memories, but now, with him standing here, they began to sharpen and take form.

The Old Man watched them impassively, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Reunions are a luxury, Seven. Remember that. His return is not without purpose. He will be assisting us in upcoming operations."

Seven pulled back slightly, looking up at One with a mixture of joy and apprehension. "You're really back? For good?"

Five nodded, his expression serious. "I'm here to help you, Seven."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, a small, hopeful smile breaking through her tears. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he replied softly. "Your hair..."

"They changed it..."

The Old Man's voice cut through their moment. "That's enough sentimentality. You have a mission to focus on, Seven. Don't let this distract you."

Seven stiffened, her training kicking in. "Yes, sir."

But as she turned to leave, One squeezed her hand, a silent promise that he was here to stay, that she wasn't alone anymore.

The days that followed were surreal for Seven. Having One back in her life was both a comfort and a reminder of the family she had lost. They fell into a new routine, training and planning together, finding moments to talk about their past and their hopes for the future, however uncertain it might be.

One evening, as they sat in a quiet corner of the facility, Seven looked at One, her heart full of questions. "How did you survive? Where have you been?"

One's gaze was distant, his voice low. "When they...separated us, killed the others. I was in a place called the Red Room for a while. They trained me, used me for their purposes. But I never stopped thinking about you...and the others."

Seven's eyes widened. She had heard whispers of the Red Room, a place of even more brutal training than HYDRA's. "That sounds horrible."

"It was," he admitted. "But it's over now. And we have each other. That's what matters."

She nodded, drawing strength from his presence. "Are any of the others alive?"

"Not that I know of, Sev."

SEVEN WAS ORDERED TO GRAB SOME-
thing for the old man, in the files. Seven was told not to go in the private archives but...how could she not?The archive was a forbidden area for most operatives, but she had overheard whispers about the secrets it held. Secrets about their past, their true identities—fragments of lives that HYDRA had stolen from them.

She moved quietly through the room, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. Her fingers brushed over the cold metal of the filing cabinets, pausing on one drawer marked "Winter Soldier." She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, before pulling it open.

Inside were thick folders, each filled with documents, reports, and photographs. She flipped through them, her eyes scanning the pages for anything that might shed light on her Papa's past. She knew him only as the Winter Soldier, a weapon forged by HYDRA. But she needed to know more. She needed to know who he was before all this.

Her hand stopped on a file labeled "James Barnes." Her breath hitched as she opened it, revealing a series of documents detailing his life before HYDRA: his birth certificate, military records, photographs of him as a young man, smiling and carefree. It was a stark contrast to the haunted, stoic figure she knew.

"James Buchanan Barnes," she whispered to herself, the name feeling foreign and familiar at the same time. Her eyes traced over his military records, noting his service in World War II, his friendship with Captain America, and his presumed death. There were photographs of him with a man in a star-spangled uniform, both of them grinning with the easy camaraderie of brothers-in-arms.

She read about his capture by HYDRA, the experiments that followed, and his transformation into the Winter Soldier. It was a history of pain and loss, of a man turned into a weapon. Her heart ached for him, for the life he had lost, and for the father she had come to love despite the darkness that surrounded them.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the archive room. Seven quickly closed the file and slipped it back into the drawer, her hands shaking. She ducked behind a row of cabinets just as a guard walked by, oblivious to her presence. She waited until the sound of footsteps faded before slipping out of the room, her mind racing with the revelation she had just uncovered.

Later that evening, in the quiet of their shared quarters, Seven sat across from Bucky, her thoughts still consumed by the file she had found. He was cleaning his weapon, his movements methodical and precise. She watched him for a moment, the weight of the secret heavy on her chest.

"Papa," she began hesitantly, "I found something today."

Bucky looked up, his expression unreadable. "What is it, Seven?"

She hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I... I found something today. In the private archives."

Bucky's brow furrowed, a hint of concern in his eyes. "What were you doing in the private archives?"

"I was sent to get some files," she explained quickly. "But I found something else. Something about you."

"They sent you to the private archives...?" Bucky's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Never mind. What did you find?"

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I found a file about the Winter Soldier. About you. It had your real name—James Buchanan Barnes."

For a moment, there was silence. Bucky's eyes flickered with something she couldn't quite read before his expression hardened. He set the weapon down and leaned back, his gaze steady on hers.

"You shouldn't be snooping around in those files, Seven," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "It's dangerous. If they catch you, there will be consequences."

She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. "I know, but... I had to know, Papa. I had to know who you were before all this. Before HYDRA."

Bucky's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his eyes distant. "It doesn't matter who I was, Seven. What matters is who I am now, and what we have to do to survive."

"But it does matter," she insisted, her voice breaking. "You had a life, a real name. You were someone before they took you. You deserve to remember that."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "James Barnes... that's a name from a past that doesn't exist anymore. The man in those files is gone. All that's left is the Winter Soldier."

Seven felt tears prick at her eyes. "But you're more than that. You're my Papa. You've always been more than just a weapon to me."

Bucky reached across the table and took her hand, his grip firm but gentle. "I appreciate that, Seven. I really do. But you need to be careful. If they find out you've been looking through those files, they won't just punish you. They'll use it against both of us."

She nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. "I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just...I thought you would wanna know."

Bucky squeezed her hand, his expression softening. "I know, I need you to never snoop around again. Sev, they will not be nice with you."

Seven looked into his eyes, seeing the pain and the strength there. "I understand. I'll be more careful, I promise."

He nodded, releasing her hand and picking up his weapon again. "Good. Now, let's get some rest. We have another mission tomorrow, and we need to be ready."

The conversation after that went nowhere, so Seven changed the subject. "I saw One again."

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion. "One?"

Seven nodded, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "He was one of the other numbered kids. My brother, not by blood, but he was family. I thought he was dead. They told me he was dead. But he's back, Papa. He's alive."

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he tried to process this information. "When did you see him?"

"A few weeks ago," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Old Man called me to his office. He brought One out, and I couldn't believe it. He's older now, about twenty-one. I hardly recognized him at first."

"I'm glad, Sev."