An eerie chill starts in your fingertips. Like a glove, it slowly spreads into your hands and through your wrists, winding up your arms.
"The Hold?" you echo in a low, harsh whisper. James remains rooted in place, only the smallest twitch in his jaw giving away any sign of agitation or unease. "You want to go back...to the Hold?" you hiss, gaze narrowing as you slowly rise from the couch, your head tilted in morbid fascination with his request. "Why in the fuck would you think we should go back there?"
"You tell me, Interrogator," James says, eyes darkening in unspoken challenge.
Your lips part in sudden realization, and a sick grin tugs at your lips. "How long?" you ask. "How long have you wanted to go back?"
James' brow twitches. "The night of the party," he grunts.
"Why?" you ask.
James doesn't speak, but he doesn't need to. You can see the answer in the furrow of his brow and the downturned corner of his mouth. The night of the party was the first time you had been intimate. And you can tell by his silence he had decided to go back the moment he had been forced to push that pill past your lips. You chuckle coldly. "So that's why you wanted me like this," you say, gesturing to your temple. The one now pleasantly numb, the static from earlier silenced. "You knew I'd say no to returning to that place without even a thought otherwise."
"You might not like the idea, but it's a logical next step," James says quietly, but firmly. "The pills came from the Hold. There might be more there."
Your cheek twitches in irritation. Irritation because he's right on multiple counts. If he had proposed going back to the hold before you had slipped back into your cold objectivity, you would have said no. End of story. But now...well, now you realize he may have a point. The pills came from the lab at the Hold.
Regardless, it's not good enough. The pills aren't worth losing the biofile.
"And if there aren't more there?" you question. "You'd be wasting time and putting the rest of our mission at risk. It's not worth it."
"Not worth it?" James parrots back in disbelief. "This is your life."
"My life isn't worth a damn if that biofile makes it into the hands of the Tressis," you shoot back.
"Have you forgotten we're chasing a rumor?" James growls. "We don't even know if the file exists," James argues in a gruff, angry tone. "You'd trade your life on a maybe?"
You fall silent. Still. "Gabe was certain," you finally say.
"Gabe is dead," James grunts. "And you'll be next without your medication."
Your jaw tightens and you bite the inside of your cheek. The kindling of un-sparked rage festers in the pit of your stomach, one ember away from bursting into flames despite the numbing layer that soothes you into a cold nonchalance.
"That's right," you say sharply. "Gabe is dead. And I might hate the memory of him for putting me on these stupid pills to begin with. But he was brilliant, Barnes."
James opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up a hand and continue talking.
"He was brilliant, and rarely wrong," you hiss. "If he was right about the biofile, Asmodai is trying to raise his own army of supersoldiers."
"Y/n-"
"If we lose the biofile because we're chasing these pills," you interrupt. "We'll be doing nothing but delaying the inevitable. And we'll both be dead. Because if Asmodai succeeds there won't be a force on this Earth that can stop him. Not even your broken Avengers," you seethe.
"They're stronger than they look," James growls. "Even in pieces."
"Is that so?" you counter, growing combative. "You alone almost took out their leader. The almighty Captain America. And without your connection to him, you would have succeeded. So what makes you think they'd have any chance against ten of you? Or a hundred of you? Thousands?"
"The Tressis can't get to it without me," James says, lip curled.
"Supposedly. But what if they get to you when we try to go back?" you chastise. "Have you forgotten that my aliases were on the TV, Barnes? That information could have only come from inside the Hold. The Tressis has another mole and we don't know who it is. Not to mention that everyone there could be after me too."
"Beyond your aliases on TV, we haven't seen a single sign of them," James counters with a scoff. "You really think your people are still after you?"
"I shot a Spectre. And I shot-," your voice breaks, and you swallow with a grimace before continuing. "I s-shot Kentay. And Gabe, the Director of the whole damn thing, got caught in the crossfire. They all died because of me," you hiss, an aching anger bubbling in your temples. "It was the first assassination of a Company Director since Director Pinkerton in 1884. And even though it was an accident, that's what they'll call it. I won't be welcome there. And my presence won't be kept a secret if I'm spotted."
"Then we infiltrate quietly," he says.
"No," you say staunchly, crossing your arms. "I won't put us at risk for something so inconsequential."
"Inconsequential?" James growls, his brow furrowing. "You don't even care that you have three pills left, Y/n! That's six weeks. Twelve at most."
"Then we have six weeks to find the biofile," you grumble. "Twelve at most."
You turn your back on James and head for the stairs when a quiet voice stops you.
"No."
You stop and glance over your shoulder at the soldier that stands frozen in the middle of the room, fists balled at his side and shoulders tense. He turns in place and locks eyes with you - his normally light, ice-blue eyes have turned a dark and steely grey.
"We don't have time to argue about this," you say from the bottom step coldly.
"I said no, Y/n," James says, his jaw tense. "I won't do this. Not without you."
"That's unbelievably naïve, Barnes," you condemn. "I'm already dead. You can't change that. You have to face the fact that you will have to do this without me. Sooner rather than later."
James' lip twitches into an angry snarl as a low growl emanates from deep inside his chest. His eyes darken as he balls his fists at his side.
"Oh please," you scoff, rolling your eyes at his primal aggression. "You need to focus," you snap. "You've completely lost sight of our priorities! Do you have any idea what's at stake here?!"
"Yeah, I do!" he shouts angrily, taking you by surprise as his face grows red, the veins in his neck bulging. "Your life, Y/n!"
"My life is inconsequential and already past the point of saving!" you shout back even louder, fists curled. "That file is the only thing that matters!"
"YOU ARE THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS!"
His chest heaves as strands of brown hair falls into his face and the room falls silent. Your brow furrows as you watch his gaze flit quickly between your own.
You freeze.
Holding his gaze, you realize his breathing is staggered. His pupils blown wide as a bead of sweat tumbles down his face.
James is scared.
And the only time James is scared is when he feels like he has something to lose. He told you so himself. James is scared to lose you. And that's a weakness that can be exploited. That could get him hurt. That could get him killed.
You move slowly - purposefully - back across the room. James stands rooted in place, wide-eyed as his nostrils flare. You stop an arm's length away and hold out your hand. Your gaze flits to his left arm, and without having to speak he knows what you're asking for. He hesitates, but only for a moment before reaching beneath his sleeve and plucking that small little magnet from his arm and placing it in your open palm. You look at it for a moment before holding it up between you.
"Do you know why these things have spikes?" you ask in little more than a whisper. "It's to keep them safe. You need to put yours back on, James. Please."
James inhales sharply through his nose as he grits his teeth, frowning. But he doesn't say a word as you reach out and place the little magnet back in his hand, turning your back once more. But before you can step away a warm hand catches your wrist and pulls you back. You have only a second to raise your hand before your palm makes contact with his chest and his eyes find yours, holding you close.
"Moss," James whispers, his eyes searching yours.
You inhale sharply. That single, uttered word catches you completely off guard, and without warning your cold shell cracks. A little seedling of warmth fights through, rooting in your chest. You try to push it away, but James threads his fingers through yours and presses your intertwined hands firmly against his chest.
"Moss," he says again, with renewed urgency as he desperately searches your gaze.
"Wh-what?" you stammer, brow furrowing as your gaze flits down to his fingers intertwined in yours as he holds them close to his chest.
James' jaw tightens as he glances down at your hands. For a long moment he's silent as his nose twitches, searching for the right words. Your heart pounds in your throat as you wait.
"I don't know what it means," James says quietly, tightening his grip on your hand. "But Steve told me if you ever tried to run, or...or give up," he says, his voice like gravel. "To remind you that you and I...we're like moss growing to the south."
You swallow, trying desperately to stay in control as that cold and numbing layer starts to wear thin. The little bubble of warmth in your chest growing bigger as a small buzz in the back of your head gets louder.
"I'm not running," you seethe, trying to pull away. But James holds you in place, his gaze searching for yours. But you look away. His blue is too bright. "I-I'm not giving up, I'm just -"
"Just what?" James whispers. "Because it feels like you're giving up."
"I'm being realistic," you say, that little ball of warmth in your chest growing larger as James leans his forehead to yours. "I don't know where those pills came from, James," you whisper. "I don't even know if they were made at the Hold. They just...delivered bottles to me from the lab. If we go there, and there's nothing-"
"Then we leave," James says. "We leave and get on a plane to Germany to go talk to that doctor."
"No," you say, your temples beginning to throb. "No, James we can't-"
"We can," he says. "Because you're not leaving me, princess. Not like this. I promised."
"A promise I told you not to make," you whisper, voice cracking. "You can't keep it, James."
"I can," James urges, nuzzling his nose against yours as his scent curls around your cheeks - warm and sweet. "If you let me."
"Stop," you whisper, cheek twitching as the static grows and a sharp pain causes you to wince. "Stop, I...the noise, it-"
"Fuck the noise," James says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out your pill bottle once more. "And fuck the pain. Take another pill, doll. Because we're getting you more."
"But...what if there are no more?" you ask, a waver in your voice. "You heard the doctor, James. This stuff it...it comes from a person. Whoever it is, someday they won't - someday we'll have to...there won't be-"
"Shh," James hushes your rambling as he pops the lid off your pill bottle with his thumb.
You lift your gaze from his chest to meet his eyes. The final cold separation keeping that warmth in your chest from taking hold evaporates, and you exhale sharply. Holding the bottle between his palm and pinky, he uses two large fingers to fish out a pill, and slowly feeds it between your lips. You hesitate, but swallow nervously. As you do, tears brim in your eyes. Two pills. That's all you have left.
"I'm...scared," you whisper, a single tear dripping down your cheek.
"I know, doll," he answers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You lean into his touch as he keeps his grip tight, wrapping his arm around your waist. Silent tears fall down your cheeks as you watch him pocket your pill bottle - only two little pills left inside. You close your eyes as James holds you for a quiet moment, resting your cheek against his chest and taking solace in the strong, sturdy beat of his heart.
"Okay," you whisper after a moment.
James looks down at you, and you glance up to meet his stare.
"Okay what?" he asks.
"Okay," you say again. "We'll...we'll go back to the Hold. See if there's a way to find more."
James' entire body relaxes beneath your touch as he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.
"On one condition," you say.
James sighs and steps back, holding you at arm's length as he arches a single brow.
"We take the opportunity to search the databases for Vex," you say.
"Y/n," James says, frowning. "You said it yourself. It's dangerous. We need to get in and get out."
"Fine," you say, stepping back from James as his hands slide from your shoulder. "We'll get in and get out. But we check the system before we go."
"Don't we have everything on the tablet?" James asks.
"No," you say, shaking your head. "Not even close. The Hold's database is...massive. The only files on the tablet are the ones Gabe put together. Everything related to what he knew about the Tressis along with all of our personnel files."
"Wait," James says. "He gave us those specific files? He chose those?"
"Mhmm," you nod. "Which didn't make sense to me at first - not when you think about all the random things in there. But...I've been thinking."
James arches a curious brow. "Go on," he grunts.
"I think Gabe knew there was another mole," you say. "We had no idea until we saw that broadcast. But Gabe...I think he figured out that Walthers wasn't the only one at the Hold working for the Tressis. But he didn't know who it was. So he gave us those personnel files in case we were able to find something he couldn't."
"That's why there are so many innocuous reports," James hums, crossing his arms. "There was too much data on that tablet, Y/n. Too much that had nothing to do with my file or the Tressis explicitly."
"Exactly," you say. "Like, why did we need all those Spectre reports on Kazakhstan? Or the intel reports out of Peru? You were never in Peru."
"Maybe he had already tied some of those reports to a potential mole," James theorizes.
"Exactly," you agree. "I think we need to take another look at all the data. And instead of looking for connections to you, I think we should look for connections between the data itself. Take you out of the equation and find the common thread. It might give us a better idea of who the mole at the Hold is."
"And if we can figure out who the mole is-"
"We might be able to use them," you say, finishing his thought.
A small smirk tugs at the edge of James' mouth and suddenly he reaches for your face, taking you gently by the chin and pulling you into a soft kiss. You gasp in surprise as your lips meet, but your eyes flutter closed as James' hand moves from your chin to caress your cheek, deepening the kiss briefly before breaking it.
"We don't have long to search for the connection," James says, running his thumb over your bottom lip. "I won't gamble with you."
"Give me a day," you plead.
"Y/n-"
"One day," you say.
James frowns. "Fine," he grunts. "24 hours. Let's take 24 hours to go over the reports. If we find the connection, then we can make a plan. If we don't-"
"Then we infiltrate quietly," you say, nodding.
James leans in to place a final feather-light kiss on your lips before slipping past you and up the stairs, returning a moment later with the tablet from the bedside table. He holds it out to you and you take it, swiping in. You glance up at his blue eyes.
"People, places, things," you say. "The answer is here. We just have to find the connection."
James nods and takes your hand, guiding you to the couch. He sits and pulls you between his legs, your back to his chest as he peers over your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, you tap on the first report praying that you find something - anything - that might identify the mole within the next 24 hours.