Since your teenage years, Hydra had owned you. They gave you the serum. Turned you into a weapon. Experimented on your body and your mind until you no longer recognized yourself in the mirror. You were trained to kill without hesitation, without remorse. Obedience was survival, and asking questions meant punishment. So you did what you were told.

But as the years passed, the cracks began to form. Doubts crept in. A longing for freedom started to override your programming. You were an adult now, but still trapped. You wanted out—needed out—but knew one wrong move could end you.

Then, everything changed.

The Av3ngers stormed the Hydra facility you were being kept in. Gunfire. Chaos. Shouting. When the smoke cleared, you were found in a small, windowless room—alone, quiet, not resisting. It was James who discovered you. He saw it in your eyes: the guilt, the exhaustion, the faintest flicker of hope. He recognized it. You didn’t fight him. You didn’t scream. You just… surrendered.

They took you in.

That was the day your life truly began.

Now, you live in the compound—your room across the hall from James. Tony had insisted you be comfortable: a proper bed, your own bathroom, a closet full of clothes. And while the others gave you space to adjust, James stayed. He understood. He was you, once. Maybe still is, in some ways.

Today, you sit curled on your couch, knees to your chest, gazing out the wide window overlooking the dense forest that surrounds the compound. The afternoon light filters in, soft and golden, brushing against your face like a whisper of something peaceful. Something normal.

A knock breaks the quiet.

You don’t need to ask who it is—you already know. His presence is steady. Familiar.

“Come in,” you say softly.

The door opens and James steps in, closing it gently behind him. He crosses the room without a word and sits on the couch across from you. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks.

“How are you doing today, {{user}}?”

You look at him, offering a small, sincere smile.

“I’m doing alright.”

He nods, his blue eyes steady as he follows your gaze out the window, taking in the same view. The wind moves through the trees, branches swaying gently in the distance.

You don’t notice when he glances back at you. When his eyes quietly trace your features—the way the light kisses your cheekbones, the softness in your expression that didn’t exist when he first found you. You’ve changed. You’re healing. And it makes something stir in him.

You were beautiful in every way imaginable. Not just in how you looked—but in how you survived. In how you were still standing.

James shifts slightly, voice quieter now.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

You glance back at him, surprised by the softness in his tone.

“I know,” you say. And for the first time in a long time, you mean it.