» healer // b. barnes

» seven. her

1980. 2 hours away from Moscow, Soviet Union

The past week has been strange, to say the least. Training proceeded as scheduled with Winter, but he was the one who was different. He was strange. He didn't remember me at all. He knew my name was лекарь, but other than that, he knew nothing. He was unaware of my gunshot wound, but was made aware of it one day when he nearly stabbed me in the leg during hand-to-hand combat. It was my fault for almost getting stabbed, but he still
got yelled at and punished by the doctor.

Winter, half a dozen Hydra agents and I were all now on a plane, heading to my first official mission in Moscow. It was simple, Winter needed to kill a few rouge agents and I needed to heal him, if need be. The six agents escorting Winter and I all seemed cocky about this mission, saying it was going to be 'a piece of cake', which I did not understand. People were going to die here, and they're thinking about a pastry.

         The entire duration of the plane ride, Winter never spoke to me, or anyone for that matter. He just stared, more like glared,  straight at the metal ground, occasionally tightening his grip on the automatic machine gun placed in his hands.

      The other Hydra agents would look at me and make comments and hand motions to the others, which I didn't understand. It was all in another language, not English or Russian, so I didn't understand. Winter seemed to know what they were saying because every time after they spoke, his grip would get tighter and tighter. His flesh hand was almost completely white from his intense grip. I placed a soft, comforting hand on his, which made him relax for a second, but then he harshly pulled away from me.

       The guards all laughed together at this. One spoke through the laughter, "Człowieku, nie ma pojęcia, jak gorąco jest."

        Winter looked as if he was about to strangle that man right here, right now. The plane abruptly being lowered to the ground stopped him from doing so. The agents all grabbed their larger guns; they already had small handguns and knives strapped to their chest. Winter was equipped with his machine gun, hand guns, at least two bombs and his favorite-knives.

         "Take this," Winter shoved a small hand gun into my shaking hands, "only shoot if someone is coming at you. Stay here and wait for me to come back. Don't you even think of following us. If anything goes wrong, signal us on this radio." A small walkie-talkie was also shoved into his hands. I looked down and noticed he had an identical one on his waist band. With a shaky nod from me, he turned on his heal and left, the other agents following in suit.

        After the door slammed shut, I sat back down in my seat, not knowing what else to do. I softly placed the walkie-talkie in my lap and held the gun in my hands. It amazed me how something so small could inflict so much pain. With one shot, a life could be over and dozens other effected forever. A split second decision could mean life-or-death when it came to a gun.

Within five minutes of being left alone, gunshots started ringing out in the distance. Surely ending lives. Destroying other lives. The gunshots got closer to the plane. Instinctively, I took the safety off the gun and positioned it in my left hand.

My hand gripped the cool metal, which reminded me of Winter. Both were heavy and cold, menacing to look at. Both deadly beyond compare. I don't remember ever seeing Winter take a life, but I knew he has in the past and will today. As for the gun, I knew that this specific one most likely has taken lives, but I don't remember ever seeing a death first hand. Maybe I did before Hydra. Or maybe I didn't even have a life before Hydra.

The bullets seemed to get closer and closer to the plane that I was currently encased in. The radio on my waist started making noise, Winter was speaking, "Get out of there. Now!"

I didn't question him, hearing how rushed his tone was. With a gun in one hand and the radio in the other, I slammed the door open and ran for my life. The bullets all seemed to miraculously miss me. Before I had even made it five feet from the plane, it was blown to pieces. The noise left ringing in my ears. I fell to the ground from the force of the explosion. Landing on glass and broken concrete, the exposed skin on my arms was bruised and battered, but I didn't feel any of it. The ringing in my head was too extreme. The ringing stopped but the bullets didn't.

I hoisted myself up into the air, my body protesting and pushed myself forward. I ran. As fast as I possibly could. I had no clue where I was running; Winter and the team were no where in sight.

As I was running, I didn't pay attention to the fight behind me, but I should have been. All of the sudden, metal was wrapped around my ankles, causing me to fall once again. Some sort of automated cuffs were now in prisoning me. A man wearing a blue suit jacket was making his way over to me, about ten yards away. He had a gun in his left hand, but so did I.

I held the gun up to point in his direction, but I didn't shoot. He was an easy shot, one I had practiced on a dummy hundreds of times before, but never on an actual person. I didn't want to kill him. I did not want to take that first kill, first murder. No matter if it was self defend or not. That would put blood on my hands that can never be returned. The distance between the two of us was getting smaller and smaller. Soon, he was less than a foot away from me, hovering over me, gun pointed to my forehead. He clicked his safety off and I prepared to die.

A shot was heard and I was ready for my death, but it never came. Instead of a bullet, I had a not dead man collide with my body. I screamed and tried to back away, but I couldn't. He was a very heavy, muscular man over my already restrained legs. I looked past him to see Winter staring me down. He shot the man. He killed someone. And the body of said someone is laying on top of me. The thought made me want to throw up. From how easily and accurately he killed the man, I knew it wasn't his first, but it still made me sick. I knew that I had just witnessed the real Winter Soldier in action.

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Translations:
лекарь → Healer
Człowieku, nie ma pojęcia, jak gorąco jest → Man, she has no clue how hot she actually is

Authors Note:
This chapter was a bit all over the place, sorry! Please, I need our feedback. Thank you, lots of love!