𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 || 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘦

JAXON HADN'T KNOWN WHERE AND WHY HE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIELD, FEELING THE WARM BLAZE OF A FIRE A FEW FEET FROM HIM. Groaning as he sat up, feeling the pounding of a headache strike at the interior of his skull as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening. Only finding the strength to carefully rise to his feet, stumbling back slightly as he placed a hand against his forehead. Ignoring the stinging of something dropping into his eye, the stinging was not as prominent as the thundering inside the walls of his skull.

Promise you'll come find me.

A hiss escaped his lips, shaking his head as he blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the pounding. Whose voice was that? What did they mean? Jaxon had no answers or prior knowledge, his mind empty with only the image of red flowing in the wind. Red glowing under the dimly lit streetlights, red shining, drenched under a flow of water. Then there was green, a set of emerald green eyes looking directly into his soul with this woman's lips turned into a soft smile. Jaxon could feel so many things just at those sights and feelings, they were all he knew.

With a shaking gaze, he took in the sight of the flame dancing across the field. Gasping as he blinked rapidly, eyes not able to stop flickering across the helicopter. Millions of things ran through his head, but his eyes found the sight of a duffel bag. Instinctively, he walked towards it, eyes fixated on the flames that reached up to the stars, pleading to grow bigger and wilder.

Falling to his knees, Jaxon unzipped the bag and ripped it open. Frowning at the sight of guns, money, and passports filling the bag. Grabbing a red passport, he flipped it open to find a picture of him with his name, which he guessed was his real passport. But as he quickly flipped through each quickly, discovering the countless names with his face plastered to them, the further he found himself questioning if his name was truly Jaxon Carter.

The further and further he delved into the bag, the more questions popped up in his mind. But one thing stopped him and it was the fact that he knew he needed to leave. Something told him so, the voice, the promise he wasn't sure if he made with this woman that filled his mind. Natasha. That's who she was, he knew that for sure. Out of everything, her name and that promise stood out to him bigger and clearer than anything else.

Grasping the gun, he inspected it for a moment before standing to his feet and slinging the bag across his body. Coughing with his eyes focused on the flames, the gun finding its place in the hem of the back of his pants before he turned and marched aimlessly. Large puffs of grey clouds escaped past his lips as he walked, the night sky creating short and quick shivers to run down his spine. He didn't know where he was going, all he had was a name and face. Hell, he didn't even know where he was at the moment.

The number of times he'd wrapped around his mind, circling it over and over again, searching for answers was limitless. That same skull-splitting headache had him groan in pain, walking along the side of the road, the helicopter blazing brightly in the centre of the field. "I've begun to understand you aren't built to trust." Jaxon needed something to substitute this pain, a bottle of gin, weed, something that could help slow everything down for a moment and maybe help open up the spots of his mind that were locked off.

But as he walked along the side of the road, lights cast behind him. His silhouette cast across the road, mimicking his movements as he turned around, squinting at the blinding headlights of a vehicle. Both sides of the vehicle opened up as it came to a slow stop. It didn't take long for Jaxon to pick apart these two people, holding M16s and mask's hiding their identities.

It took even faster for Jaxon to pull the gun free from the back of his pants, firing one shot in each person's chest, their bodies collapsing with thuds to the ground. The crackling of the two gunshots rang out into the night air as he stared in shock.

Once again, he wasn't sure of anything going on, and he importantly didn't remember having any prior knowledge of combat. Even so, it all felt natural, almost entirely muscle memory and something you would know just instinctively knows and understands growing up throughout childhood.

With a step forward, one of the men tilted their gun, hoping to angle it and shoot Jaxon, but he beats the man to it. Firing two extra shuts in said man's face before snapping his aim to the still conscious and living man. "Who the hell are you?" Jaxon questioned, reaching down and peeling back the mask to reveal a man who groaned in pain. "Answer my fucking question! Who the hell are you?"

The man on the ground, smiled evilly, chuckling with a slight groan as he trembled. The bitter cold of the night bristling at his bones, his skin already pale as of his life dangling on the precipice. "You don't remember, do you, Jaxon? Do you think you can just come back here after what you did? HYDRA will have your head."

If the confusion in Jaxon wasn't clear before, it sure was now. The man's final gasp of air left him just as he went still, leaving Jaxon to clench his jaw uncomfortably. Hating that he was getting more questions than answers, leaving him at a further disadvantage than he already found himself in.

Stuffing the pistol back in its previous position, he grabbed the M16 before stealing the magazine from the other. Walking around to the driver's side of the vehicle and tossed the weapon inside before slipping in as well. Swinging the vehicle around the two bodies before pressing his foot hard onto the pedal of the Jeep as he drove down a dirt road, away from any other wandering vehicles and people who might be hunting him.

We have all the time in the world, Jax.

Another shot of pain straight to the head had him clenching his jaw. Teeth grinding together, on the brink of shattering just under the pressure he put them through. Hoping that the more he allowed these small fragments of voices to pound in his head, the more he learned. But the more he sat here and let these voices whisper in his ears, he quickly found them to surround Natasha, her voice being the same thing that whispered in his skull.

The sound of her silky smooth voice had him in a dreamy state for just a fraction of a moment. But at that moment, things were clear to him, although they still a lot was obscured by red and green. Alluring whispers drew him towards one thing he knew for sure. That was the fact that Natasha meant something to him, deeper than what he would've expected. Even now, if he didn't know anything fully, she was the one thing he was sure of.

Coming over a small hill, Jaxon's eyes caught the sight of a small farm not too far ahead. Most of the lights were off beside the one outside of what he guessed was a barn. Most of the view was blocked out by the birch trees on either side of the driveway leading onto the premises of the farm. Within the field, there were the lights of a combine harvesting crops.

Drawing closer and turning into the driveway, Jaxon reached down for the dial and shut the headlights off. Slowing the Jeep down as his eyes flickered ahead of him. Was anybody home? The only sound that could be heard was the sound of rocks cracking under the weight of the tires on the dirt driveway. Despite the weariness in his blood, warning him of all the possibilities, Jaxon did a full 180 before putting the vehicle in reverse and parking it along the side of the house.

His eyes slowly flickered to a laptop resting in the passenger seat. A frown formed on his face as he grabbed the device and stuffed it into his duffel bag. Hopping out of the Jeep and shutting it with a quiet click. Pulling his pistol out from its spot, holding it behind his back as he walked along the outside of the house. The faintest warm glow of orange is evident behind the paper-thin curtains at the front window. No shadows of figures walked beyond it, no other source of light that could belong to a TV.

So, after scanning the rest of the house and chalking it up to be empty, he kicked the door in. The top hinge completely snapped under the force of his assault, surprising Jaxon himself who carefully grabbed the door, trying to fix it somehow. But he was met with dead silence, allowing him to shut the door behind him with a deep sigh, even muttering a sorry to no one in particular, maybe to the door. Carrying himself in long and quick strides as he searched for the bathroom. Flipping a light switch, he was blinded for a moment by the light above him, the white-tiled walls bouncing off the walls and reflecting the glow hitting his eyes.

Once adjusted, Jaxon took only a quick glance at himself in the mirror, catching the dry blood stuck to his skin along his left brow. As well as soot that was stuck to his face with dirt splashed across.

It was short-lived before he had shut the bathroom door behind him and turned the shower on. What he hoped for would be to have a quick shower and take a look at the laptop he took. If this "HYDRA" was hunting him and these were their men, then maybe they would have information on Natasha. Helping his search to find her as soon as possible.

Stripping himself naked and stepping under the steaming hot water, a deep and content sigh escaped him. Bringing his once gloved hands to his face, roughly wiping his face clean, the water turning a faint and gross brown as the dirt and soot was washed from his skin. A feeling that left him smiling blissfully.

Diving his hair under the water, a stream cascaded down his back, the warm water putting his entire being at ease. The spots where the water didn't touch, felt like the tiniest drag of nails across his skin. They were faint but still stuck out to him as he had to look over his shoulder for a moment, anxiety toying with him.

After what felt like forever, Jaxon stepped out of the shower and pulled out a random combination of clothes. Carefully stepped out of the bathroom, until he heard the loud click of a weapon. "You better have a damn good reason to be in my house stealing my water, son."

Slowly turning his head, the man that stood on the other side of a double-barrel shotgun glared at him. His bright blue eyes focused down the sights of the shotgun, pointed directly at the centre of Jaxon's head.

"I don't mean any trouble, sir. I've had a horrible hour or so, believe or not." Jaxon spoke up as he side-stepped and raised his hands in surrender. His body and mind were altering, trying to respond to danger, but Jaxon thankfully was able to refrain from doing so. Not wanting to end an old man's life.

"My only intention was to have a shower, sleep and then leave in the morning. If you want me to leave, then I will, but move that gun from my face."

They both stood in painful silence, the one sound that had Jaxon mentally reeling in uncomfortableness. Able to hear the quiet dripping from the showerhead within the bathroom, the clicking of a clock wherever it was in the house and the faintest breeze coming from the front door. The most unsettling sound in the human experience is silence when nature begs for wailing.

And it seemed that in that long chorus of silence, the old man's icy blue eyes scanned over him carefully. Scanning Jaxon, seeing the cuts barely visible under the warm lighting across the household. Allowing himself to slowly lower the shotgun and shift his hold on the weapon in one hand. "What's your name?"

"Jaxon Carter, sir," Jaxon replied, lowering his hands as he watched the man turn his back and place the gun above the doorway that led to the living room on a pair of hooks. "Well, Jaxon Carter. Do you want something to eat?"

Soon enough, the two men were sat at the table, spaghetti on each of their tables with a glass of water by the side. The man Jaxon came to find out was John, watched him carefully. Taking note of everything that the silent and mysterious man did.

Jaxon felt John's gaze focused on him as he ate, following his every movement. "Where are you from?" John's question had Jaxon's movements faltering, glancing up at him as he twirled the spaghetti around his fork. "I don't know."

A chuckle came from the older man who rolled his shoulders back. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean that I have no recollection of anything before my helicopter crashed down the road." He explained, earning a slightly wide-eyed look from John who took it as his turn to sit silently for a moment. Slightly tapping his fork on the edge of his plate, deep in thought as Jaxon resumed eating his spaghetti.

John had seen the ball of flames on his way home, cars racing past him with a roadblock not allowing him to get any closer. There were even ambulances with bodies being carried into the vehicle. And understandably, the gun he held under the table was necessary. "So, you have amnesia?" John inquired to the man across from, earning a shrug. "I suppose so. I'm looking for someone and I just need to figure out where I am and where I need to go."

That was that for conversation, the pair continuing to eat in silence. Both caught in their thoughts, John soaking in the information given to him whilst Jaxon stayed focused on the woman dancing around his mind. Her voice beckoned him to find her, the urge to search for her building and building each moment he wasted.

And when they were done eating, Jaxon retreated to the living room, opening the laptop on the coffee table. Toying with an elastic band that had been beside the laptop. The screen booted up, an eagle logo in the centre of the screen before a file of him popped up, resuming from where it had been from before.

His eyes flickering up, finding no sign of John and allowing him to scroll through his file. Right over the top of his picture had been in a large red font, all caps, "TERMINATED." Looking further, there were more pictures, him walking down the street, location unknown, but then there was a picture of him with Natasha. Her back turned to him, but they had been in what seemed to be a hotel room.

He stared at the photo, pulling the elastic band that sat around his wrist and snapping it against his skin. Clearly his mind from the sting of pain and quickly exiting out of his file to find Natasha. It took a few seconds, but he finally found it and clenched his jaw.

Right under her photo, which Jaxon was having a tough time looking away from, captured by the woman's beauty, that same eagle logo was placed. Her level of clearance and rank is situated beside it. The rest of her file showed the basic information, some of it covered in black ink, but her location was listed down with a photo. The apartment building wasn't anything as nice as her, a rundown building that looked to have a few bricks falling out of the infrastructure.

That was where he needed to go, to New York. And from what he could quickly gather on where he was, he was only an hour out from the city. Explaining the distant city lights from when he came over the small hill.

Why would I lie to you?

Jaxon's thumb found its place between his teeth, staring up at the doorway, hearing the faintest sound of John's voice. A frown appeared on his face before he quickly looked back at the laptop, finding John's name and searching through the photos. From what Jaxon could gather about himself, trust wasn't something he was accustomed to. And could you blame him after he had no answers to anything happening around him?

Something clicking got his attention, grabbing his gun from the back of his pants and snapping his aim to the doorway. Finding John stood there with his own pistol pointed at him. Neither had their fingers resting on the trigger, still ready to clench their finger around the metal and find out who was the one too slow.

"Who are you?" The question came out close to a yell, Jaxon slowly standing to his feet. Instead of answering the question, John slowly stepped around him. "You are Jaxon Carter, assassin and ex-HYDRA agent. You were last seen in Santorini before you went missing for five years and now, you are suddenly alive."

The tone of the man's voice was full of disbelief, like the whole existence of Jaxon was a far-fetched idea. But it didn't help that the once American accent that John had morphed into a British one, showing just a fraction of his true identity.

These claims thrown at him answered a few of the smaller questions for Jaxon. His ability to kill was because of his prior jobs when he still had his memory. Even then, the questions answered were replaced with others. How long had he been an assassin? Why did he disappear? Where did he go? Did it all connect to that helicopter? "What are you still doing alive, Jaxon?"

"I promise you, I don't remember anything prior to the crash. All I know is a woman by the name of Natasha." Jaxon told the man, lifting his hands in surrender. His actions had the other man lowering his gun, clenching his jaw repeatedly as he sighed deeply. "I know. You would've been able to recognize me if you remembered."

Pain could be heard in John's voice, a strain within each of his words. But Jaxton couldn't question what the man meant before lights flashed through the front windows. Both men's attention snapped to the set of headlights.

As Jaxon attempted to move forward, preparing for a fight, a hand grasped his shoulder. "You have to leave. Take this and go through the back and take the Jeep." John handed him a burner phone. "I'll deal with these guys."

"Who are you?" The repeated question from before had John sighing, glancing between the slamming of car doors and the assassin. "Harry Brogan."

Something about that name tugged at Jaxon's heart. Knowing he should know this man, but couldn't put the name to a face within his mind. Harry didn't seem too bothered, pushing him back towards the back door. "Go. Find Natasha."

With a final nod, Jaxon grabbed his bag, slipping the laptop inside before running out the back door. Hit with the cold air and the sun rising just barely peeking beyond the horizon and skyscrapers of New York. Rushing along the side of the house, gunshots rang out as he tossed his bag in the back seat, hopping in the driver seat.

As he pulled out of his hiding spot, he quickly saw two of the same type of soldiers that he killed firing at the front of Harry's house. So, with a sudden swerve of the wheel, Jaxon ran over one man, getting the attention of the other as he drove down the driveway. But before the other soldier could fire any bullet, Harry had been quick to shoot the man three times. Lowering his gun to watch the rear headlights grow distant before Jaxon swerved down the road he had come. A faint smile on his lips, watching his old friend disappear into the early hours of the morning, on the search for the woman he loved.