"Better a broken promise than none at all."

-Mark Twain

Four days is a lot of time to get to know someone, especially when they are the only person you are allowed to speak with. Though James, as Ophelia called him in order to prevent memory formation, had trouble remembering his past recent and distant, he was still able to form new ones. His personality was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Despite being locked in a small operating room with minimal meals, having lost a limb and having it replaced with a metal one, James was in high spirits.

She saw nothing of herself in the soldier, but each day she longed to wake up and talk to him, even though she could not divert from her carefully planned script too often. HYDRA was listening, she had no doubts, but there were some instances where she was able to break from that script and cue a small joke from James that went over her head, or even a compliment.

On that fourth day, Ophelia woke to the sound of Bucky shifting on his gurney. She couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it had been for him to sit there for so many days, only allowed up to use the washroom or change into fresh clothing that was left every other day; HYDRA didn't care about comfort, but they also weren't risking disease and infection. Ophelia had only been let out of the room to be brought to her cell each night and no one spoke to her, but each day time was ticking away and she would be evaluated sooner or later on how well she had completed her task. A few times, more than a few times, she had left her carefully planned out script, but she couldn't simply ignore some of the questions that James had.

"James," she whispered, touching his shoulder, the one that was real; his skin was soft, smooth.

Her brown hair was loose, slight waves rippled through her locks as her hair fell over her shoulder. She was seated upon a stool and leaned over when she touched James. It was strange; putting her hands on someone was never something she'd done. Not like this; there was a warmth to his body, and unlike the first few days, it was not a fever heat. But just the warmth of a human body. She'd been so curious to talk to someone who didn't see her as HYDRA did, and now that she finally had that opportunity, she found herself marveling at the little things. One of the things that amazed her the most was that despite what he was enduring, Bucky was treating her like she was human.

"Are you awake?"

"Mm," he mumbled, then opened one eye wearily, the other following suit moments later. "I was enjoying the sleep, actually. I don't get much here."

"I'm sorry..." Ophelia then smiled, it spread across her lips but did not reach her eyes. She'd smiled more in the last four days than her entire life, but it was hard knowing she wouldn't see much more of this man. "I know it is hard, and I can't promise that it will change soon."

"You look like you haven't seen the sun in years," he noted. Her skin was once an olive colour, but being locked underground with only days at a time in the sun, she had become pallid. It was not a pretty pale either, it was an unnatural, cave-dweller type gaunt. Her eyes were still striking; nothing could hinder the bright green.

She flushed, adding minute amounts of colour to her skin. "I saw it when I found you."

"You?"

She nodded, though she knew that diving deeper into facts about herself was a dangerous game. To be honest, she knew little about what she was; with all that HYDRA had added to her, she was just a chemical cocktail with abilities that they found useful for now. There were cameras on the walls, every now and then she saw them shift, but she did wonder if they had audio. Either way, they were judging James as much as they were judging her. Was she worth anything to them anymore? Ophelia studied the man beside her and wondered if he was going to be her replacement. The metal arm looked intimidating, especially to Ophelia herself.

"I was born different."

"How so?"

"I have a mutation, enhanced by..." She stopped herself, about to say something along the lines of 'years of torture and experiments', but that was not going to win over James, who was already very skeptical about this place and rightfully so. Ophelia thought her wording through before she let anything slip. "Training."

"I had a friend... he had a mutation, but he wasn't born with it." He squinted his eyes, trying to figure it out.

She knew that James was talking about Steve Rogers, but she would not say his name, nor his alias. It was too dangerous to give him snippets of his past, a past far more righteous than hers. Certain triggers would bring back fragments of his memories and his head would have to be wiped clean. The last thing she wanted to see was James being electrocuted into submission; she realized then that she would rather suffer through it for him than see a good man like him subject to it.

HYDRA sent her in to prevent just that, to get him on their side willingly, but she felt as though she was failing at the task already. Calling her a people-person would be a huge lie; she had little contact with people, but adored the feeling of that contact. Being alone with James for so many days she found herself wondering if she would find herself falling for him out of being alone for so long. Forcing those thoughts out of her young, desperate mind, she turned the subject back onto herself, so that James wouldn't think too hard about Captain America.

"I can track people, objects..." she said carefully, her green eyes glancing up at the cameras. They remained still, unmoving; this was a good sign, but she still shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"You would have been a wonderful asset in the army," he stated, then sighed. "Your accent, where is it from?"

She stared at him as though he had just asked her the most absurd question ever; she didn't know the answer. Thinking quickly and on her toes, she replied simply. "Here."

James contorted his face slightly. "Have you ever been out of this place? Were you born here?"

"I really shouldn't be answering these questions," she said in a panic-filled whisper.

She may not have been in the army, but she was a part of the war. The war that would eventually carry on over decades in the shadows. Her eyes fell over James once again; his bandages had been changed twice now, and it seemed as though he was no longer bleeding through his stitches; his ribs were healing. The wrap around where his metal arm attached to his shoulder needed to be changed almost hourly, but it too was beginning to heal. The first time he was a prisoner to HYDRA, they had tested military grade serums on him, and he was healing faster than the average man. Ophelia had a feeling that when he was healed, they were going to use him in every way they could; he would be their weapon against the opposing team, whomever it happened to be at the time.

"O... Can I call you that?" Bucky asked, breaking Ophelia from her train of thought.

She had never had a nickname before, not one that was truly derived from her name. She had been called 'Test subject' and 'Mutant' a few times, but they were not friendly or welcoming. It was so foreign to her to be spoken to like this, to be treated almost as though she were his friend. She wasn't, of course, but she appreciated everything he'd said to her in the last four days, every joke he made, every glance he gave her. She knew that in her sheltered and unexposed life that she was simply reacting well to a friendly face. Her green eyes stared at him for a moment, taking in everything about him. He truly was handsome. "Yes, you may."

"I'm going to get you out of here, O." There was no falter in his voice, he said it with the determination of the soldier he was.

Those words clung to her like a parasite, and it would eat away at her like a disease. She stumbled over her words trying to say the right thing that would satisfy HYDRA. This was bigger than her, she knew. The words that came out of her mouth were lies, and despite being told from day one that it was true, she never believed it. Even as the words fell from her lips, it tasted wrong on her tongue. "I belong here."

It was slightly true, she had nowhere else to go. She hadn't an inkling of what the real world looked like. Released into the world, she would have no idea how to survive, and she hated HYDRA for having that power over her. Even when she went out on missions, even if she managed to rip out her tracker and escape the guns behind her, she wouldn't survive out there. Her usefulness only extended to her path finding, and HYDRA made sure that she knew it. Inside she knew that she could have had another life, a normal life, but that was not the hand that was dealt to her.

"Bucky..." she said, meaning to dive into some carefully constructed lie about how he was not a prisoner, and neither was she.

Her word choice could not have been more damaging to the operation, and to her. She let it slip, his name, the most important word to withhold from her vocabulary. Perhaps deep down she had intended to say it, but it would only lead to chaos and catastrophe from there. She knew that both her and Bucky would have long hours of pain ahead of them, and somehow, she only cared about him suffering. She'd been through it, there was hardly anything else they could do to her aside from put a bullet in her head. But Bucky? He was good. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Bucky?" His eyes clenched shut, his jaw tightened. Shaking his head, he gasped. The memories began to slowly creep back into his mind, the most important ones were the strongest ones. "Steve... HYDRA."

"Please stop talking," Ophelia begged in horror; what had she done? She rose to her feet and brought her hands to her mouth, shaking her head in protest.

"I have to get out of here! They think I'm dead." He yanked against the restraints, but still his metal arm was deactivated and he had little strength.

"James, please stop. They'll hear you." She looked around nervously, and then backed into the wall only a few meters away from him. "They're going to hurt us."

Bucky seemed to remember that Ophelia was there, and her words struck him. He leaned away from his restraints and looked at her, his eyes wide. When he spoke, his words were so authentic, that it pained her. "I'm so sorry, O."

The power locked doors made a bang as they unlocked; the metal doors slid open slowly and four HYDRA officials walked in with their guns ready. Ophelia grabbed hold of a scalpel, ready to fight her way through even if she died trying. At least then she wouldn't have to suffer punishment that was sure to follow this. She lunged at one of the guards, slicing at him with the silver surgical tool. She missed, and a shot was fired. She felt the blood pooling out of the bullet hole in her thigh. As she fell to the ground, the guards swiftly kicked her while she was down before they grabbed her and cuffed her.

She looked back at Bucky one last time; he was fighting against his restraints, yelling something, but Ophelia was ripped from the room in seconds. Two guards held onto her arms as she tried to fight them, but it was useless. She was wounded and outnumbered four to one. Though she knew that she was headed to be punished, she couldn't help but wonder what they were going to do with Bucky. He was too important to them to kill, but Ophelia knew too well that death was not the worst thing that could happen in the HYDRA base.

Not even close.