Unravel

Trying to remember every bit of information she had once had proved to be more difficult than she had first thought. But she also had information that hardly anyone else had, or at least so she thought.

The facial recognition still had not revealed the true identity of the Winter Soldier and if she was being honest, she was kind of glad it hadn’t. It would make things more difficult for everyone. He wouldn’t be that faceless ghost anymore that ran around and killed. Even if it were Hydra agents that he killed, it was still murder. It had not been ordered by anyone and taking into account all of the people he had supposedly assassinated as the either the KGB’s or Hydra’s lap dog, it was questionable if he would even be tried as an American citizen.

Elizabeth knew that she had to find him now more than ever. His accusations had made her more aware of her surroundings and she couldn’t help but be suspicious of everyone and everything. Especially her boss. If the Winter Soldier was right, Hydra had had enough time to work their way up in every agency and probably also the government.

But with all of her files destroyed, she had to rely on her memory and the few notes she had made and left in her apartment.

The moment she had come home from work, she had gathered all the notes that were left and began to work. The hope that - with the help of the new information - she could finally find him or at least find the general area was big.

She could remember six murders. All of them had been in different parts of New York City. There had been one in Harlem. Male, somewhere around 28. Hung from a street lantern with his belt. Then there had been two in Queens. One in Forest Hills, another in Astoria.

Another had been found in the Hudson River by Hell’s Kitchen but he could have been killed anywhere. The first male that had been older than 40 was found in the Bronx. The last one she remembered, the only woman, had been found in Woodrow, Staten Island.

All in all, none of these correlated in any way. They were all just murders committed in New

York City. The only thing she could somehow see as a hint as to where he was, was that none of the murders she could remember had been committed in Brooklyn.

That was when it snapped. Jumping up from the floor of her living room, she rushed to the bookshelf at the far right wall and started looking for the books she had taken with her from Oregon. She knew there was one on the Howling Commandos her brother had given her when she was 10.

Standing on her toes to get a look at every last book, she scanned the bookshelf for the familiar blue and white of the very creased cover. When she found it, she immediately pulled the book out of the shelf and opened it, too eager to take it with her to the spot on the floor she hadn’t left for the past hour.

She didn’t even need the table of contents, still being familiar enough with the book. And there it was. The passage she had remembered, that might give her one more hint to work with.

“Both Captain Steven Grant Rogers, alias Captain America, as well as James Buchanan Barnes had grown up together in Brooklyn, New York City. With time, both became orphans which made their friendship grow even stronger. The houses in which the heroes lived were demolished in 1957 and 1974 but in both cases a plaque has been affixed in remembrance.”

////

The following days Elizabeth became more and more convinced that the Winter Soldier was hiding somewhere in Brooklyn. It was only logical: she knew he had been brainwashed and was slowly regaining his memory. He would be drawn to things that seemed familiar even though things had changed considerably in Brooklyn over the last decades.

Living in Brooklyn herself, she didn’t know whether she should feel safer or unsettled. It had been calm in Bedford-Stuyvesant for the last few years but the arrival of the Winter Soldier could definitely change that. She still wanted to talk to him.

Being in Brooklyn most of the time also had its perks. Whenever she was outside now, she kept looking at her surroundings. She would also be lying if she said that she didn’t take longer routes through Brooklyn whenever she had the time. He probably only left his hiding place when the possibility of being spotted was at its minimum. But she could hope.

She only wished she could have gotten more information on the picture they had been able to get, where it had been taken. Now with Hawk on her case she tried not to get involved in any case that hadn’t been assigned to her. That sadly also meant not getting to work with any new hints and evidence.

Working on the things she needed to during the week, she decided to wait until Friday evening to finally spring into action.

It was already dark outside. Brooklyn at night was not something that she particularly liked but she was armed with pepper spray (that she wasn’t afraid to use) as well as with her gun (that she didn’t particularly like to use).

She also decided on bringing Vito with her. She didn’t plan on entering any abandoned buildings. Just walking through Brooklyn and being on the look-out seemed like the best thing to do right now.

And that was how she found herself wandering through Brooklyn at midnight on a Friday night, shivering in the cold February air.

Knowing that she wouldn’t get too lucky on the main streets, she used as many back alleys she could without getting lost. Vito didn’t seem too phased by it - he kept trotting by her side, occasionally sniffing at pieces of trash left in the alleys.

She kept walking through Brooklyn for hours. It hadn’t mattered that her braid had come undone underneath her hood or that she couldn’t feel her toes anymore. But she had started getting tired and she knew that - with the sun rising in only a few hours - the chance to talk to him or even spot him was slim to none.

However, there was one place she hadn’t walked by yet that night. Getting there proved to be easy but actually standing in front of the newly built house that had been abandoned already again gave her chills. It was sad, really, the way this might as well have been a metaphor for his life. Torn down only for something else to take it’s place - something so cold. Its walls had already started to crumble again.

She shook her head at herself. She couldn’t really start to sympathise with him now, could she? He had still committed several murders but the more she thought about it, the more she understood.

Stepping closer, she let her fingers run over the smooth surface of the plaque that had been affixed on the wall. It didn’t say much more than “Dedicated in memory of James Buchanan Barnes .” but it still struck a chord within her.

“What are you doing here?”

Elizabeth started and in a moment of fright pressed her back against the building’s wall. The familiar glint of metal made her exhale slowly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she answered, audibly out of breath. But he just watched her without uttering a word. He wouldn’t speak up, she knew, so she continued, “I was looking for you.” She slowly stepped away from the wall, although making sure that she didn’t get too close. She didn’t have time to talk around the matter. It was already four in the morning. The first few early risers would be out and about very soon, so she bluntly stated, “I want to know more about Hydra.”

His expression shifted into what might have almost been a smirk, albeit a very bitter one. “Define.”

“Goals, ideology, anything. Wanting more power can’t be their sole driving force.” Her brows had been furrowed in exertion and didn’t relax even when she continued, meanwhile pacing on the sidewalk. “Is that the only reason they infiltrated everything from S.H.I.E.L.D. to the FBI?”

“They didn’t exactly tell me or even ask me about my thoughts on their ideology,” came his emotionless response. Elizabeth felt her heart sink and exhaled sharply. She didn’t know what to say to that. “It is power. Taking away people’s freedom - making decisions for them, removing anyone that might disagree in any way - results in peace.”

It really doesn’t , she thought but didn’t say it out loud. He had clearly thought about that himself but the implication, that anyone that didn’t agree with their rules would be killed, reminded her too much of World War II.

“Does that mean I’m a target now?” she finally asked, a heavy feeling in her stomach.

“You are a target the moment they realize you know more than you should.”