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Something was happening at the house across the street. Something out of their daily routine.

Children. A whole group of them. Eleven. Far more than the usual one who lived there.

All running about. Screaming and laughing. Throwing colorful balloons filled with water at each other.

An adult, male, crouched by the wall. Fiddling with something with a pile of yellow plastic.

A couple of the children hovered close to him. Squealing when he rolled out the long yellow sheet of plastic.

They ran and bounced into a line.

The first one dashed at the yellow strip. Diving hands first. Sliding down the length of it. Laughing happily. The small blond boy ran back in line as the next child copied his action.

"What's that?" I asked.

"What's what?" the young woman's voice half echoed into the room I occupied.

I couldn't help the flinch.

I had expected the A.I. ghost to reply. Not the young woman. Didn't even hear her moving about.

When I looked back, the young woman's head was peeking in. Sideways. A curious glint to her eyes. A happy grin on her face.

Silently, my finger pointed out the window.

The rest of her body joined her through the doorway. The crutches must have come in during my sleep.

Click. Thump. Click. Thump.

'...How did I not hear her?'

A yelp sounded when I tugged her away from her window.

Out of sight.

Out of danger.

Though she landed in a crumpled mess of limbs and hair.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Shying away. Ready for pain.

She gave a dismissive wave. Laughing it off.

"So why are we hiding?" she whispered.

"They'll be watching. Stay in the shadows."

She sent me a confused expression. A brow quirked in question. She gave a carefree shrug and peered out the window. "What we looking at?"

"What's that?" I asked again. Pointing at the yellow.

"Ooo, what's that?" she repeated. Just as clueless. "It looks fun."

"How is it that you don't know what that is? It's a Slip n' Slide.... Val, you've never played with one before?"

"Yo, you've basically seen my entire life. What do you think? I've never even heard of it. How are the kids not skinning themselves – oh, the water. Duh. Eve, can we get one?"

"Not recommended for adults.... Unless you want to break your neck."

"Awww.... No fun." The young woman next to me pouted.

"Wait, she can see out there?" I asked. None of the cameras in the house should be able to see that area.

"Between the cameras she probably setup all over the neighborhood and the satellites, yeah, she sees a lot."

"Satellite... images...?"

Hydra had spoken those words around me. Never at me. No need for mundane information for a weapon.

An aerial view of five Quinjets next a building and a river popped into my head.

"Mmm. Yup."

"...You mean satellites are real now? They weren't making that up? But all the pictures looked like they were taken from low flying planes...."

More photos of the Triskelion. The ones Hydra used to direct me. The path to the Quinjet storage. To destroy.

"Umm... Satellites are... real?" she replied. Sounding just as confused as I felt.

"The first artificial satellite was launched in 1957."

"Oooh. Okay. Umm... Yeah okay, they did figure it out how to shoot things out of atmosphere. Now we have a bunch of things floating around Earth."

The television in the room flickered on. An image of blue and green filled the screen. North America.

It moved in, changing from green to an expanse gray. Couple seconds later, I could make out a yellow strip and little dots moving around it. The children across the street.

"This is from space?" I questioned again barely believing what I was seeing.

"Yup," the young woman chirped. "Via a big ass camera."

The A.I. ghost could watch anybody.

Hydra has access to these satellites. They could easily find me.

'How are they not here yet? How did I even get away?'

"We have satellites in outer space too."

The image of the neighborhood changed to a swirling cloud of rainbows and dots. Stars.

I had seen a sky filled with stars before.

Where? I don't know.

When? I have no idea.

But I could almost remember the warmth of something against the skin of my face.

"You watch over space too?" I asked the ceiling that broke into laughter.

"At times, Mr. Barnes. My father has a passion for outer space. I mostly search for nebulae to make murals at our various sites."

Another picture faded in. This one reminiscent of an eye. If irises came in pink.

"There's G.P.S. too," the young woman added. "Useful when lost. Let's me explore places a lot easier."

"Or keeping track of people. Likely the kind that's in your arm, Mr. Barnes."

Hydra.

They could track me from space. How far would I have to run? To escape them? Where could I hide? So they couldn't get a signal.

This house.

So far it's working. They haven't come by. There would be some sign. If they knew my location.

Then again....

It was only a matter of time. Before I found myself in the bank vault. For a third time.

Eventually they'd figure it out. That I'd been returning. All due to their programming.

Whatever it was they left in my head.

I needed them out of my head if I ever want to escape them.

"...Way to kill the mood, Eve...." The young woman placed a hand on the metal weapon. "They won't find you. We'll get the bugger out and we're super good at hiding people. It's what we do."

"If they don't go running off doing their own thing. I swear if I had an actual heart, it'd have stopped a few times dealing with you and your brother. The two of you have the self-preservation of a lemming and the attention span of a goldfi – "

"I can hear your tummy again, Bucky," the young woman pointed out. Cutting off the frustrated A.I. ghost.

She stretched out and flashed a carefree grin.

"You really should eat when you're hungry. With the way you work out, you should be eating a hell of a lot more. Come on."

"Like you're one to talk. At least he eats when I ask him to."

The young woman flipped the bird at a corner over her shoulder. Right at the camera. Hobbling out of the room on her crutches. Only to have the door slam into her back.

But as much as they fought, between the two of them, I never went hungry for long. Not in this house.

Food was delivered every couple of days. Fresh fruits. Bread. An assortment of drinks. But mostly anything that could be put in the microwave oven, toaster oven, or oven.

I have a sinking suspicion that the A.I. ghost wanted us away from the stove. Not after the pasta.

She kept the choices simple for me. And I was grateful for that. Even if it was slightly off putting how she'd know what I'd prefer.

Most of deliveries contained a couple of new items. Some never showed up again. Some became regular.

"What do you think of lasagna?" asked the young woman. Holding onto a frozen tray from the freezer.

I shrugged. Haven't had it yet. Don't remember having it before. This item was from the first delivery.

"It's too much for me. I can eat like... not even an eighth of this...?"

"Just stick it in the oven already. Don't forget to remove the wrapper." With that, the freezer door slammed shut. Yanked right out of her fingers. The oven door opened. Waiting for the tray.

"But what if Bucky doesn't want to have lasagna?" the young woman asked. Ignoring the movements of the kitchen appliances.

"I'll eat it," I stated. Before the two of them started another argument.

"Okay," she chirped happily. Shoving the unwrapped tray into the oven. "45 minutes before it's done. Shit... didn't think it'd take this long."

"It's fine."

She beamed a grin at me. "Perfect. Oh! Got something for you."

Curiosity had me following her into the living room. The coffee table was buried under scraps of paper strips. A couch cushion laid on the floor next to the short glass table.

"Uhh... hang on a second," she laughed. Quickly clearing the table. Shoving everything into a cardboard box.

Grab the head. Slam into the glass table. Target incapacitated.

Shaking off my instincts, I joined her on the floor. On her left. To keep the metal contraption away from her.

A line of six cloth covered books were neatly placed on the glass. All a navy blue. Each with a different white patterning on it. Waves. Triangles. Leaves.

"Notebooks," the young woman chirped happily.

"What for?"

"Might help if you write things out? Helped me some years back. Lets me work through stuff outside of my head. Stuff I want to remember. Stuff I want to forget. Helps make all the stuff rattling up in here quieter?

"I don't know if it'll help you. But attempting to explain it to someone, who'd never read the words, forces me to see and understand things in a different light. Helped released a lot of anger too and learned to let go a bit. Nowadays, I mostly make little notes of ideas or save happy memories so I can read it when things aren't as dandy."

"What do I write?" I questioned. Turning my eyes onto the pale pair beside me.

"Any...thing? Everything? Nobody else is going to see it. Umm... One book for memories you want to keep. One for questions to be answered. One for working out the shit you went through. One for working out who you want to be. Or something like that?

"Up to you. I could always rebind it if you want to reshuffle the pages. Just leave a couple centimeters of space at the spine? Or an inch?"

"You're giving all of these to me?"

She shrug. "I only need one to work out my own shit? You can have the rest if you want?"

"...Did you make these books? I... You can buy blank books... right? Am I remembering wrong?"

Bookstores. Art shops.

The young woman grinned brightly. "You're not. You can buy a bunch of them in stores. They come in all sorts of sizes, colors, shapes, papers. I make my own 'cause I love working with my hands and after... well, I needed something else to do. Besides this paper is special. Nobody else has them."

I opened a notebook. Found the expanse of white paper littered with uniformly spaced dots. Half a centimeter apart. A thin piece of thread lined the middle where the spine was.

"Dot graph paper. Didn't know if you wanted blank, lined or graphed, so this is a happy middle ground I like. But that's not why it's special. Eve hates this paper. It's our response to being constantly watched by her. Cameras can't read what's on this paper. Eve."

At her name, the television in front of us lit up. An image of the pair of us sitting on the floor. Shot from the upper west corner of the living room.

The young woman plucked out a piece of loose leaf from a glowing box. Held it up to the camera. It glowed blindingly bright on the screen but not in front of my eyes. Nor was the box. They only glowed on the screen.

"And paired with these pens, she can't even guess what you might be writing via hand movements."

Her hand was engulfed by a white ball on the image. A grin splitting her face.

"It comes in a bunch of colors too. If you want to color code your stuff, have at it."

"She... can't read this...?"

"Organic eyes only. So I guess she can have her Pup–people read it out to her? Eve, nobody reads Bucky's notebooks, 'kay?"

"Noted."

"And I can cover the page I'm working with if I'm doing rebinding? That alright with you?"

It was still so foreign to be asked such questions. For my opinion. If something was "alright" with me.

But I gave a nod.

Some privacy. After so long.... Sounded wonderful.

"Which one is yours?"

The young woman shrugged again. "Asked Eve to fly over the more masculine fabrics. My best friend bought them for me last time she was in Japan. I love them all. So please save me the misery of picking."

I shook my head. Panic a cold hand clawing at my insides.

I couldn't pick for her.

I could barely decide for myself. And that was with only a couple of options.

Six was far too many.

"I... I can't – "

The soft smile the young woman sent my way cut off my words.

There was no wrong answer.

That's what her expression told me. Any of the books would do.

A deep breath moved her torso and I copied. Breathing out my nerves.

I just had to pick up a book. Hand it to her. That's all.

One book.

Simple.

'I can do this.'

The same as grabbing something to eat. Pluck the closest thing. Shove it into whichever appliance the A.I. ghost opened.

"I don't need five notebooks," I stated. An attempt to buy time.

She hummed with a carefree shrug. "I don't know. I don't like my rants anywhere near my good memories and I burn about half? Of my books. The stuff I want to forget about. It's something to consider, Bucky, how you want to organize it, and I can always rebind them in a different order or into separate books."

Another bout of silence consumed us.

The young woman moved onto organizing the mess she made in the box. One of the A.I. ghost's deliveries. Likely when I was asleep. She gave me space to think.

Eventually, I picked up the third one. The one with the clouds scattered across it. And held it out to her.

She grinned happily. Her fingers wrapping around the book. Taking it from me.

"Thanks a bunch, Bucky. Saved me three wasted days. Would have taken me that long to decide.... What? I flip flop a lot."

She playfully stuck out her tongue. Opened the notebook. Laid it gently on the glass coffee table.

"Want to give this writing thing a shot?"

I have a nod and grabbed the plain cover notebook. The shade of blue familiar to me. I opened it to the first page.

A pen gripped in between my fingers. The feeling of it barely familiar. It's been so long. I couldn't even remember the last time I held a pen. But my muscle memory did.

Which left me staring at the dotted page.

With no idea where to begin.

On the other hand, the young woman, an arm's length away, was lost to the world. Her pen gliding across the paper at a mad pace. Barely lifting off the page to start a new line.

There was so much whirling about in my head. Nothing I could grasp long enough to put into words.

Stab the pen into the jugular. Target incapacitated.

"Mr. Barnes," the A.I. ghost called out.

The young woman's head snapped up from her writing. Eyes wide. One glance. Immediately going for my hands. Probably checking that I hadn't stabbed myself again.

With that confirmed, she shuffled over next to me. Our knees knocking loudly. It probably hurt for her. But there was only a sheepish smile on her face.

"Bucky, nobody's forcing you to write. If you don't want to, then don't. You're free to do whatever you want. Except leave... until I... until I can get that tracker out....

"After that, you're free to go wherever? I mean, none of us could stop you if you wanted to run off. Though I do suggest you stay long enough for me to get my shit together long enough to fix whatever's shocking you in there. So if you don't want to write, don't."

"I want to at least try..." I responded.

Anything to ease the mess in my head.

"But.... Where do I even start?"

"Uhh...." Her eyes dropped onto the half-filled page she'd been working on.

A page filled with foreign symbols. Composed of elegant waves and dashes. Some even looked like flowers.

"What language is this?" I asked.

"Dahlia? It's a code...? My brother and I made it up when we were kids. Only the two of us can read it. Nobody has yet to crack it. Not even Eve, and she's been at it for years...."

A happy giggle escaped her. Though when she looked at me. Her grin dropped rather quickly.

"I can't teach or show you any words.... If anyone else knows anything about this, it's one step closer to being decoded.... Sorry. We don't have the freedom to make another one. There no longer are any blind spots to Eve when it comes to us."

"Who told you two dumb idiots to shock each other half silly with a makeshift car battery taser you two rigged up in a bathroom of all places!?"

"I was seven! Can you blame us? We thought it was really cool how the guy in the movie tanked the taser shot and pulled out the prong thingies. We wanted to be able to do that too. It's harmless fun."

"Your grandfather clearly didn't think it was harmless."

"Nor did you.... We thought we were going to go deaf at your screaming. It's not like we didn't do our research."

The childish pout on her face told how she very much didn't learn her lesson.

"Urgh... what am I going to do with you, Val?"

The young woman shrugged. "But you loved that side of me, Eve." All traces of a smile dropped from her smile.

I had expected a quip from the A.I. ghost. But none came. Just long seconds of silence.

The tension too high for me, I asked, "Did it not hurt?"

The shocks running into my shoulder... and I could still feel the electricity coursing through my brain. That pain... I never want to feel it again.

Never again.

"The taser we made?" She laughed. Grinning from ear to ear. "We were able to adjust it and all that. Though the first one shot me right off my feet! But we used it to restart my heart when....

"Uhhh, well, we were dumb kids having fun? Trying really hard to be cool. Not the only dumb things we did behind everyone's back."

Excitement practically rolling off her in waves. She didn't even care that my eyes kept returning to the elegant waves of code. Going as far as pushing the notebook closer to me. Fully confident that no one could break it.

The result of a couple of kids fighting for every bit of privacy they could.

"We be dumb kids and our idea of games might be a little off kilter, but we had so much fun."

"Explains all the cameras in the house," I mumbled. There were no blind spots. Not a single one in this house. Not unless it was made by rearranging the furniture. Or if I could fit in the cupboards.

The young woman shook her head. "This is her house. Probably under the name of one of her Puppe-hmm her people. But it's her house... though our places are just as monitored. 'Cause dumb kids... and it really does prevent some shit storms.

"I did ask her not to constantly watch you. You're already wearing one of my monitoring bracelet things so... yeah.... She probably just checks in on you if something alerts her? Sorry."

"That's what I've been doing from the start. I have better things to spend my resources on. Solving how to get the two of you out of D.C. after the tracker is out being one of them. Though if it makes you feel better, I've been turning off the cameras when Mr. Barnes is alone in his room."

It was my turn to shake my head.

"Better this way. I can get rest without... without...."

I couldn't finish.

I didn't want her to know. That I was a.... What I was.

A killing machine.

A weapon.

Still one.

That, at the moment, I had ten efficient ways to kill her. With only the pen in my hand.

"Why don't you start with that?" she asked after a couple of beats. "Whatever it is that's going through your head right now. It's fine if it's just a single thought.

"There's an exercise where you just keep writing for a period of time. Doesn't matter if you're just repeating yourself, as long as you're writing. Here."

She flipped to the first page of her notebook.

It was filled with a repeating set of symbols. Messier and messier with every iteration.

"It's seriously overwhelming trying to tackle everything at once. Tackling it one piece at a time helps. Hopefully the noise dies down when something else is doing the remembering?"

"What are you writing about here?"

"Hmm.... It sort of relates to the thing Eve and I have been bitching at each other about...?"

And having never actually said what that was about.

"Got to work out the anger there. Doubt you'd appreciate me screaming at inanimate objects...."

"It has to do with this arm."

She gave a curt nod. "A wee bit. It's just tinkering with things in general.... I put it all behind me. It's a door I rather leave closed."

"You don't have to...."

"But I can."

Valeriy sent me a soft smile.

"After all, I used to rip out all the trackers Eve and the others keep tagging me with since I was younger," she said, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. "I'm not half bad at finding them, and you're a friend. I can do this for a friend. Especially one who saved me."

"...Thank you."

Nervously, I returned to the blank page in front of me. Fiddling with the pen between my fingers.

Her knee knocking against mine again.

"You're not alone," she reminded. Going back to her page of symbols.

Am I just a weapon? Am I just a weapon? Am I just a weapon? Am I just a weapon? Am I just a weapon? Am I just a weapon? Am I just a weapon?

No. I will be useful. I will help if I can.

I don't want to kill anymore.

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Author's Note:

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