"If I fall, can you pull me up?

Is it true, you're watching out

And when I'm tired, do you lay down with me?

In my head so I can sleep without you?"

"Don't Forget About Me" -The Cloves

             There was a sense of completion when Ophelia had an outfit; having tried on the shirt under Bucky's encouragement, she found it fit her flawlessly. The entire outfit together really made Ophelia feel as though she was ready for whatever was going to be thrown her way. Steve had informed her that he had asked Sharon to grab a few things for her as well, including an ear piece to talk through, and some functional gadgets that were similar to Natasha's. Her fighting skills were there, strength and stamina as well, but in the past Ophelia had typically used a gun. She had typically been sent in to an unsuspecting victims house and shot them point blank, like a coward.

             By seven that night, they had gotten themselves a hotel room to stay in for the night. Settled in, exhausted and ready to crash, the group of four walked into their small room. It was nothing fancy, just two beds, a TV upon a dresser, a couch and a mini fridge. It was all they needed, and Ophelia put her bag of all her new clothing down upon the dresser and relaxing her stressed shoulders. Hopping up on the wooden dresser, she let her legs dangle and leaned against the wall just beside the old tube TV. Surrounded by people she cared about more than anything else in this world, Ophelia wondered how many of them would still be in one piece at the end of all this.

             Haunting thoughts always seemed to cross her mind even at the best of times, but she considered herself the realist.

           "We should get an early night," Steve said in a methodical tone.

           "I'll take the couch." Sam offered, flopping down on it quickly and spreading his arms over the back. The window behind them was covered with a cream-coloured curtain. Steve and Bucky were still in the hallway section by the door, and Steve placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder in way that showed how long their friendship had endured.

           "Tomorrow isn't going to be easy," he said. "We're up at the crack of dawn to meet Sharon."

           "Are you going to tell her how you feel?" Ophelia asked playfully, a smile on her pink lips. Bucky broke from Steve's grip and crossed over to the dresser, leaning against it. Ophelia slid her hand over his shoulder, clutching tight and lovingly.

          "You're never going to drop this, are you?" Steve laughed, crossing over to the bed and sitting on the end of it. It creaked slightly, sunk in under his weight.

           "Nope." Ophelia grinned. Then she changed the topic, because the night had to come and go, and things were going to get a bit more complicated tomorrow. "Should we call up for some dinner?"

           Sam threw his hand in front of him, his muscles flexing in his arm as he did. "It's like she's read my mind."

           "I think it was more the hearing your stomach growl from all the way over here," she joked, and then hopped down from the dresser. 

           She grabbed the black, leather covered binder that was placed nicely on the center of the dresser for guests to scan through; in the back beyond the safety procedures and things to do in Berlin, there was a menu for the restaurant in the hotel, as well as places to go surrounding the area. Despite having so many to choose from, Ophelia figured it would be best to have food brought up to them to avoid risking having their faces being recognized. There were still people out looking for them, Bucky in particular, and they couldn't stay in one place too long, let alone go out for dinner together.

         It only took about a half hour before the knock came upon the door, followed by the curt announcement, "Zimmerservice!"

         "Maybe you should get the door," Bucky said. "My face is too well known, Sam and Steve too."

          Ophelia nodded. Bucky had taught her some in their time together. "My German is a bit rusty."

           "You'll do fine," He encouraged. 

            As O turned down to the door, Bucky smacked her butt lightly. Sam and Steve were discussing what was going to happen that next day, and Bucky slipped in that playfulness while he could get away with it. He knew O was smiling as she walked to the door, even though she didn't glance back at him after he had done it. Walking back to the couch where he wouldn't be seen, he sat down next to Steve and tuned in to what they were talking about. Steve confirmed that Clint had a chopper that would be ready to go by noon, and that he was getting Wanda out of captivity as well as picking up one more on the way; Scott Lang, not well known by all but certainly not overlooked either.

           Ophelia opened the door, that smile still on her lips, her teeth even showing. "Guten abend."

          "Ihre mahlzeit, ma'am."

          "Ah, Ja, danke." She grabbed two of the trays and began to bring them into the room. "Ich kann diese nehmen."

         "Bist du sicher?"

         "Ja, danke." She pulled out some cash Steve had given her to tip the man, trying to get him out of the room as quickly as she could. 

          When it was all wrapped up, Ophelia felt a small relief rush over her. Finally they were done facing people, talking to people who might recognize them and turn them in, they could eat and sleep a restless slumber. As she brought in the last two trays of food, Ophelia opened them up until she found hers. She climbed onto the cloud-like bed and sat cross legged, studying her meal and feeling her stomach growl and groan with anticipation. Since there was no table, Bucky sat on their bed as well, while Steve and Sam kept to the couch, hunched over their meals.

          "Looks like they forgot part of yours, Ophelia." Sam pointed across the room with his fork.

          "Hmm?" Ophelia looked up, confused.

         "No meat."

         "I didn't want meat." She blinked a few times.

          "You could have ordered a steak, lobster, anything. It was on Steve's bill, after all," he joked, nudging Steve playfully.

           "O doesn't eat meat." Bucky said, digging into his own meal.

           "Why not?"

            "Zola." O paused, trying to think of how to explain how Zola was one of the only people in her life who treated her slightly better than all the others. Though it had been him who thought out all the brutal tests and experiments, he spoke to her as though she had some worth. More so than the others, and once he was gone, that was the end of that. "A sort of father figure, I suppose... He never ate it. So I didn't either, even after Zola was gone, I never ate it when I was given it. Now, free to do as I want, I see no appeal to it."

          Bucky was smiling at her; it was one of those little things that made O up into the combination of who she was. Something he had never truly questioned, among many other things that she did. After that, everyone ate in silence and a heavy tiredness fell over the atmosphere of the room. They placed all their dishes aside where they wouldn't be in the way, and suddenly there was nothing keeping the smiles on their faces. Too much was at stake, there was too much hanging on them to get through tomorrow. Ophelia felt that weight on her shoulders at only a fraction of what the others did, because she knew that she wasn't as strong or as fast as them, she hadn't trained to be an Avenger or to save the world.

            Ducking into the shower, Ophelia turned the hot water on until it scalded her skin. Sitting on the smooth bathtub floor, the let the water nearly drown her. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, her back and her breasts. Beads of water twisted and darted around her skin, and she felt a sort of calm when she watched as they danced, merged, disappeared, appeared, dripped. 

          She began to trace her finger from her smallest toe, up over the dorsal side of her foot, over the bone of her ankle, and then up her calf muscles. Her knees were scarred from years of dropping to them in pain, in defeat. Further up her thighs were less scars, but two very obvious ones; shot by a HYDRA guard and one where Bucky had shot her two years ago. It left a faded pink scar, but shone a bit brighter under the lighting over the tub. She traced it, circled it twice, and moved over her body further. Her fingertips tickled her lower torso, dragging over her hip bone until she reached the other bullet wound, also caused by Bucky. It was a longer scar than that of her thigh, as it had grazed her instead of went into her. Moving back to her center, she brought her fingers up from her navel, where she touched the colossal HYDRA markings.

            Her breath hitched as she traced it, once, twice, three times over.

            A knock came on the bathroom door. "O, you alright?"

            She had been in the shower for too long, she hadn't realized how much time went by. With the water caressing her, she also didn't notice that she had been crying softly. Unable to reply to Bucky without him knowing that she was terrified of the days to come, she reached up and turned off the tap to reveal to him that she hadn't passed out in the shower. But that was enough of a sign for Bucky, he knew her too damn well to know when she was scared. And he expected her to be scared, he hoped that she was scared enough to back out of all this.

            "O, come on, let me in," he said in a low voice, and Ophelia could hear Sam and Steve talking in background now that the shower wasn't running. Bucky addressed them, "Guys, she just needs a minute."

            She felt stupid, having held up everyone else's turn to use the bathroom, and she quickly stood up in the tub. Her head spun, and she reached for the bar on the wall of the shower. Waiting for the moment to pass only took a few seconds, and she quickly wrapped a towel around her body. She shook her head, a powerful mixture of emotions flooding her mind; fear, worry. They didn't feel like her emotions, even though she felt those exact things; it felt like someone else's feelings were increasing her own. 

          When her head cleared she opened the door,  giving just enough room for Bucky to enter, and he closed the door behind him. While she expected him to instantly dive into if she was alright, she was pleasantly surprised when he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Kissing the top of her head, holding there for a solid minute, he calmed every nerve in her entire body.

            "You don't have to do this," he told her. "We can send you somewhere safe, we can find you when it's all over."

            "And what if you can't do it on your own?"

            "Then you will have to adjust to a life without me."

            "I'm going with you, there are things I need to do. Things I need to know."

            "You want to know who you are?" He realized.

            "I've lived too long without knowing." She sighed. "If we somehow survive... there has to be something, a file, a note, a letter... Something."

           "You don't need paperwork to exist." He almost had a laugh to his voice. "Look how much you mean to me and I don't even know your last name."

           "That's just it," she said. "It's like part of me still exists in Siberia, in my cell, like there is something waiting for me there."

            "It's going to be a hard day. I'll keep you safe, O." He pulled his shirt off of his head, and handed it to Ophelia. Grabbing it from his hands, she slid it over her body, and then dropped the towel. The long, red shirt covered all the way to her thighs, and she slid into a clean pair of underwear. The shirt smelled of a man who had worked a hard day, but it smelled amazing to Ophelia. When she got into bed and had Bucky wrapped around her body, the sound of his breathing lulled her to sleep, the scent of his body gave her pleasant dreams, and his protective arms around her gave her strength to get up that next morning.