The Black Dahlia (Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier)

Chapter I - Call Me James

Third Person's P.O.V.

Many things were going through the Winter Soldier's mind as he walked away from the river bank where he'd just dropped Captain America's unconscious body after pulling him out of the water: Why did I save him? Did I actually know him? Who am I, really? He shook his head, trying to clear it of those unanswerable questions so he could focus on the problem at hand. The plan hadn't worked, Project Insight had failed and HYDRA was busted which meant that so was his extraction team. Quickly scanning his surroundings for a possible escape route he caught sight of an apartment building with an indoors parking lot (A/N: is that even a thing?). He immediately began to make his way towards it, looking around frantically-strands of his wet hair occasionally hitting him in the face-to make sure that no one was following him; however, his eyes missed the blonde woman standing a block away, hidden almost completely behind a white minivan. After jogging the last few steps so he was under the protection of the building and not completely out in the open, his eyes began to roam the large space almost entirely filled with cars for signs of anyone else that might have been there while walking further inside. When he realized he was alone he quickly picked a car-the nearest one-which happened to be a black 2013 Toyota Corolla and jogged towards it. It took him a moment to realize that breaking into it was going to be a bit difficult, considering that his right shoulder was dislocated which meant that he could barely move his arm, and his mechanical arm wasn't doing too great either. He tried using it to break the handle on the door but frowned when he realized he couldn't get his fingers to work properly.

"Need some help?" A soft feminine voice with an elegant British accent called from behind him and he immediately whirled around searching for the source of the question. It had come from a column not too far away, where the same blonde woman from before was leaning against it lazily with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Who the hell are you?" He growled as his metal hand clenched into a fist-as well as he could manage-while adopting a more defensive stance.

"Calm down, love." She smoothly replied while pushing off of the wall and beginning to step towards him. When she noticed his body tense and his jaws tighten even more-if it was even possible-she stopped and held out her hands in front of her to show him that she meant no harm. "I'm here to help."

"You with HYDRA?" He asked in the same tone as before. "You're here to take me back, aren't you?" This time, his voice rose ever so slightly and held a very obvious amount of mistrust and anger.

"Just calm down." She repeated taking a couple of steps towards him. "My name is Lydia Blackwell. You don't remember me?" He took a moment to look her over for anything he might recognize. She was tall-about 5'7-and her hair was perfectly blonde, almost golden, but what stood out to him the most were her eyes, they were a hypnotizing sapphire blue that seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't seem to remember why, a feeling that he'd become quite familiar with and hated more than anything, except maybe the people who turned him into what he is.

"No I don't." He finally answered. Her face fell slightly, but she recomposed herself before he noticed.

"I figured you wouldn't. Not after everything they did to you." She spoke, her face sympathetic.

"How would you know about that?" He questioned, getting edgy again. The whole time they'd been talking his body had only relaxed an almost invisible amount while he was trying to figure out whether he knew her or not.

"Because unfortunately, I am also familiar with HYDRA's hospitality." She answered back, the disdain in her voice easily matching the one he'd shown at first. Then she lifted up the left side of her shirt to reveal a red star on the left lower quadrant of her abdomen. The Soldier's eyes widened slightly in recognition as they took in what seemed to be the only flaw on her fair skin, he could have sworn the borders of it were uneven, almost as it had been burned onto her flesh. It was the same star he had on his metal shoulder.