Chapter 1

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You were punching the dummy in the Avengers compound, as per Captain's orders. Watching the others out of the corner of you eyes, feeling weak compared to them. You didn't have super serum, you weren't a trained assassin, not some unearthly being.
You had random bursts of power, one that was not trained. You had second sight as your granny used to call it. Sometimes, when you touched someone you'd get snippets of the future, or the past. A month ago you had touched a man, and told him to stay a way from a place of ice and snow it would only bring him heartbreak. That random person was Tony Stark, that random place was Siberia.
After that he came and found you, and now you're here. He made you touch everyone, which was awkward. Wanda had given you the most painful memory, her brother dying. In a burst of raw pain and emotion you broke three glasses and a window without moving. It clued everyone, including yourself, that something else was bubbling beneath the surface.
"Alright y/n, time for you to try some hand to hand." Steve announced his presence, you spun and face him and Bucky.
He was the only one you had not touched, he bulked at it. Tony agreed after the Wanda incident that it was not best for you to touch him. He was new to life in the compound same as you, and dear lord was he handsome.
"I don't think that's a good idea." You responded meekly. Wringing you bare hands, wishing you had brought your gloves. The one thing that seemed to keep the intrusive visions from happening.
"It's time, with you living here, it makes you a target." He added, walking forward. He place his large hand on your bare bare shoulder, instinctively you pulled away. Sometimes just someone touching you could send one to you.
"This is Bucky, he'll be training you." Steve explained, disregarding your flinch. Bucky held his fleshed hand out to shake yours, tentatively you took it. Flashes of an era gone by flood your eyes, a much younger Steve, skinny and frail having an asthma attack, your/his hand on the kids shoulders.
      'Just breathe.'  Bucky's voice was soft and calm.
     "You ready?" Bucky's  word were clipped and rough as he snapped you out of your trance.
      "Not really." Your voice wavered, he raised an eye brow as he took a couple steps back.
    "Alright, first lets see how well you defend yourself." He stated ignoring your reply. Suddenly he sprang at you, you jumped to the side dodging his grasp, avoiding people, that's what your good at. Each strike, each kick missed you.
     You could see the irrational growing on his face as he had yet to make contact. His movements started to speed up, each punch coming faster then the last. He had been going easy on you in the beginning, underestimating you as all people did. You didn't survive on the streets as long as you did because of your sight.
     A crowd had gathered to watch as Bucky was giving it his all now. He faked the punch with his right, and grabbed your throat with his left, cold metal caught you by surprise.
   It was as if someone had hit you with a freight train. You had reached into the car, grabbing the women by the throat, you continued to look over the hood of the tan sedan, as you crushed the life out of her. Your mind blank, but a trace feeling nagging you in the back, begging you to stop, this isn't you. The room spun, the red room, tiny ballerinas.
     Suddenly you dropped to the ground, gasping for breath as he released his grip. You held your throat looking up at Bucky his eyes wide with horror. That happened only on few cases, sometimes, the memories would be brought back to the surface once triggered. And by the look on his face, he had seen them.
     "No." His voice was the one shaking this time.
    "I told you, I wasn't ready." You stated sternly, standing on shaking feet. He backed up away from you, something you had grown accustomed to.
     "We're done." Ice hung from his words, his eyes turned cold, void of emotion. You stormed past brushing his bare shoulder against yours, as your step faltered.
    'Sarah, I've tried talking him out of enlisting. He's gone through two different recruiting agencies.' Concern laced his words as you stared at the rotary phone, fingers tangled in the cord.
    You continued to walk forward, pushing the memory to the back of your head. You stalked to your room, you were done peopleing today. Too many visions, too many glimpses into the past of someone else's life. You had had enough false emotions for one day.

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