You shut the overhead lights off to the empty coffee shop and grabbed your keys. Swinging your backpack onto one shoulder you crossed the room. You reached for the door but a sudden shuffling caught your attention. You looked back at the dark shop one last time and felt your stomach sink. Two dark figures sat at one of the tables in the far corner. You dropped your keys and a scream fell out of your mouth.
"What the actual- oh my fuck!" You blurted, grabbing your chest and trying to calm yourself. They didn't seem nearly as startled as you were, sat in the dark unmoving, like statues.
Taking a deep breath you tried to steady your voice "I'm sorry, I didn't see you guys there... Uh- we closed about fifteen minutes ago, so..." You spoke as calmly as you could. When they didn't respond, or even move, you continued "I gotta' ask you guys to leave now." Still, nothing. Finally the smaller figure stood, causing you to take a clumsy step back, tripping a little over your feet as you did so. As she stood the moonlight illuminated their face. It was the same redheaded woman from before.
"Why don't you come take a seat, y/n." The woman spoke. Her voice surprised you. She was small in stature but her words came out sleek and bold. She tapped the seat beside her and the other mystery figure. You looked at the empty seat and back up at the woman.
"Who the hell- um, no? No, i- if you don't leave right now I'm calling the police." You tried to sound as confident as the woman but your voice cracked. You reached into your pocket for your phone only to find it wasn't there. You looked back up at the possible serial killers now hopeless. You could always scream, You thought. But then again this was Brooklyn, and it was late. Your screams would only blend into the city's usual rattle.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, kid." The larger figure finally spoke. You looked over to where the voice came from. There, in the figures hand, was your phone. It flashed awake and for the first time you saw the man's face. His lips were pulled tight across his mouth but his eyes gleamed with interest. You couldn't help but notice his sharp bone structure. Chiseled was the word. His soft blonde hair was perfectly placed and cropped on the sides. You thought he looked too handsome to be a serial killer. But then again that's what they said about Bundy.
"How the hell-" you started, but cut yourself off when you realised that wasn't the question you really needed answered right now. "Who are you people? What do you want?" You spoke, a little more clearly this time.
"That's on a need to know basis. And you don't need to know, y/n" The handsome killer spoke. "As for what we want, why don't you come take a seat. We just want to talk." He continued.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" You were surprised by how clear your voice sounded. Their only response was the small redhead tapping the same seat as before. Hesitantly you crossed the room and pulled the seat out. It screeched on the old wooden floors. You sat and placed your hands in your lap, wishing you had taken Emily's advice and invested in self defense classes when you first moved to New York.
"Alright," the woman started, looking at the man beside her. "This is progress." She spoke, sarcasm oozing from her pink lips. "I'm Agent Romanoff, and this is my friend Captain Rogers. We-" The Captain cut her off harshly before she could finish.
"Agent Romanoff, the kid does not need to know that." His voice was authoritative. Okay, serial killers don't call themselves captains and agents, you thought. But you still weren't sold that these two wouldn't hack you up and shove you in the walk in freezer.
"We're not here to hurt you, y/n." Agent Romanoff suddenly said. Completely ignoring Captain Rogers glare. You shot your head towards her. That's weird. It's like she read your mind.
"The opposite, actually. We need your help. The organization we work for has been compromised and we believe you have important information that may be of use to us." She smiled warmly at you. She was much nicer than Captain Grumpy.
"Romanoff..." He warned. Both you and the Agent ignored him. "My name isn't Y/n. It's Jane. I'm sorry, really I am, but I have no idea what you guys are talking about. I just work here. I don't know anything." You felt like you were pleading, which made you feel small and weak in their dominant presence.
"Jeesh, they really did a number on you huh?" The captain spoke, only this time he sounded almost concerned.
"I have no idea what you're talking about but you guys should really leave. I need to-" he cut you off yet again.
"Tommy Benson." That stopped you right in your tracks.
"Tommy Benson." You repeated the name like it was a foreign language. "He's- was your fiance. Before..." He cleaned his throat, obviously uncomfortable.
"For fucks sake." Romanoff huffed, glaring at the Captain. "You're name is y/n. Y/n L/n. When you were ninteen your family died in a horrible house fire. You were the only survivor." You nodded. You knew this. You relived this every time you close your eyes. You remember waking up in that cold hospital room, cords and tubes attached to every part of you. The monotone beeping of the machine as the only reminder that you were still alive.
"Okay, you remember. Good. That's good. Okay, so shortly after you graduated from MIT. And early too, really impressive may I add. I've never heard of anyone as young as you with a electrical engineering degree." You looked at her, stunned. "I- I just work here." Your voice was hushed, and broken.
"I know, hon." She began again "When you graduated you were picked up by an organization. They called themselves S.H.E.I.L.D. but they lied. They told you that you were developing a weapon that would keep the word safe. But after a while it became clear they had a different motive." You wanted to argue again. Maybe you didn't because, more than anything, you wish you were more than just a broken girl with a wicked case of ptsd.
"Tommy Benson." You spoke his name again. Romanoff nodded reassuringly while Rogers just rolled his eyes and huffed. You paid no mind.
"You met Tommy when you were 22. You had been working for what you thought was S.H.E.I.L.D long enough to figure out they were really Hydra. I think Tommy helped you realise you couldn't stand by and watch them use your invention for bad. So, you backed up your blueprints on a drive, destroyed everything else and left. You two moved to New York, changed your names, and started a new life." She paused, just long enough for you to ask. "Where is he?" She looked at Rogers, but when his expression remaind the same, she turned back to you. Her eyes were softer now.
"Y/n... Shortly after you moved here, hydra found you. They threatened that if you didn't give them your blueprint they'd-" you cut her off this time. "They killed him?" You spoke calmly. It came out as a question, even though you already knew the answer. You began to feel nauseous again but quickly dismissed it. You had no right to grieve a man you never knew.
"Y/n, I'm so sorry." You couldn't look at either of them. You couldn't remember this girl they spoke of. You couldn't remember anything. Everytime you tried your mind went blank and stung with another headache threatening to consume you.
"How?" Your voice was emotionless. You could tell that both of their eyes were on you now. You didn't care. You just stared at the table, calming your breathing. You could feel another panic attack bubbling up from deep in your chest. I am calm. I am okay. Just breathe. You repeated over and over in your head.
"You were supposed to meet on the Brooklyn Bridge. There was nothing you could have done y/n." She reassured you but all you could do was grit your teeth. Trying, desperately to remember a moment in time that never happened. Taking another deep breath you repeated, "how?"
Romanoff blinked at you, and then to Rogers. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Then he spoke. "One of hydras assassins was waiting for you both there. You tried to stop him, but it was too late. He was shot y/n. He's dead." You're breath hitch as you clutched the table so hard your knuckles began to lose colour. The image of the man on the bridge flashed through your mind. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe but your lungs felt like they were filled with smoke.
"No! Please, stop! Please don't." Your mind was screaming, but it really came out as a raspy whisper as you gasped for air. "y/n!?" Romanoffs voice rang through your mind but you couldn't focus on her words. All you could see was the man from your nightmares. "STOP! Please don't do this. Don't hurt him! Please, PLEASE! NO!" you screamed so hard your mouth began to taste metallic.
"requesting backup. I need a sedative. NOW!" a woman's voice boomed through the shop. You couldn't tell who it was. Or if it was real or not. You heard the door burst open and footsteps thundered closer to you. You opened your eyes and came face to face with the man that haunted you every night . Standing on the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge he pointed his gun at you and fired 3 times. The bullets rocketed through the air in slow motion ripping through your chest. You stumbled back tripping over your feet and like a puzzle piece missing from your memory, you fell. You watched as the monster on the bridge turned and walked out of eyeline.
Your body hit the ground hard enough to shock you back to the coffee shop floor. You began to flail and kick, but it was no use. Three large men in black tactical gear held you down as you screamed. "Please! Stop! D-don't do this. Please!" A man with a large needle approached you and there was a sharp sting to your neck. "Please, don't do this." You cried, choking on sobs. You blinked hard as your vision became blurry. "I am calm... I am okay... Just breathe" You whispered over gasps for air.
And then everything went dark.