SHADOW

CHAPTER 1

I have another bad, restless night so my workout starts early again, just as dawn breaks.

There's a fine vapour of morning mist in the air that turns my face dewy and sticks my fringe to my forehead. The sunrise is diluted into a haze in front of me through low cloud. The only sound is the in and out pant of my breath and my sneakers crunching against the gravel as I run.

I'm tired. Exhausted. But the fresh air wakes me up. And even I can admit there is something tranquil about running whilst the rest of D.C is still sleeping. There's the occasional blare of a car horn from the depths of the city as delivery vans start their rounds. But here, by the riverside, even the birds are quiet.

With no loud noises to scare me, and few to no people around, I am in my ideal state. The exercise is distracting me. There's no space for thought in my mind; I've got headphones stuffed into my ears blaring loud rock music.

So...not exactly tranquil. But I'd liked this kind of music before I'd left S.H.I.E.L.D. It reminds me of a time when I was braver, more out-going. A me that downed beers at heavy metal concerts and didn't hesitate to shoot bad guys. A good spy. A reliable employee. I'm not that person anymore.

By the time I've reached my half-way point - the bridge that arches over the widest point of the river - other joggers have joined my trail. The cloud has thinned and the sun is brighter against the cold, winter sky. I turn around and head back for my car; so focused on my own sleep-deprivation and the final portion of my run, that I don't notice the figure on the bridge, coat flapping ominously around their knees.

It's past 8AM by the time I reach the parking lot. I bend over to ease a stitch in my side, the crashing rhythm of my music audible as tinny noise to passers-by.

I sense his presence before he makes himself known. I straighten upright, wrenching my headphones out.

"Do you know what forced retirement means?" I snap, stalking down the path towards my car. "It means we have a mutual agreement never to see each other again."

"Your retirement was conditional."

"On?"

"Your mental health. It was stipulated in the paperwork -"

I whirl around, wrenching the hood of my jumper down, my hair practically bristling with anger. I'm facing Nick Fury, my old boss. Part of me is stunned to see him again after so long, but the anger wins out. "You dropped me because I had PTSD you cold. Heartless. Bastard."

"My hands were tied," replies Fury, rolling his eyes. I confess I'm also surprised to see him patch-free, his right eye staring un-seeingly at me. The kind of white opaque colour that makes kids scared. "You don't know the full story. And from what I remember...you wanted to leave."

I shake my head. "What I want is for you to leave me alone."

"You don't know what it is I'm asking, yet."

"Whatever it is: no," I return, tapping my foot testily. I'm on edge. The calm equilibrium I had found during my morning run is gone. I was not prepared for this; for him to appear as if out of thin air.

Fury turns his head covertly as he waits for a cyclist to pass us by. "It wasn't a decision I took lightly to drop you, Alex. You were one of our best agents. If you can come back into the fold...I can explain everything."

"Give me a break. I was a tool to you, like everyone else in that place...you just kept sending me on missions until I broke. Then you threw me in the trash. Do you have any idea what this past year has been like? S.H.I.E.L.D was my life."

"Good. Then you should be jumping at the chance to come back, then. We'd like you to work for us."

I don't think about any civilians that might be watching. I punch the director in the face. Hard.

"Ow," Nick states, accusingly, holding his jaw. He glares at me. "It's a non-violent, consultation-only role!"

"Yeah? I don't believe you," I sneer. My hand is throbbing. "Don't you dare try to contact me again. Don't event think about coming near me. My time at S.H.I.E.L.D is through."

He doesn't say anything as I turn on my heel and storm away. When I check to see if he's following me, I get a vicious kind of satisfaction that he can only watch me walk away. He's still holding a hand to the side of his face, working his jaw silently.

God, I wish I'd done that a year ago.

Dr Angelina Quick has probably dealt with hundreds of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agents like me over the years. You can tell, because she has a way of dealing with us down to a science and nothing ever seems to phase her. She's always unflappably patient and calm. And believe me, over our sessions, I've done a lot to try to break that cool exterior.

As I sit, wound like a ticking time bomb across from her, she voices the question that I've been asking myself every time I come to one of these sessions.

"Why do you still come to these meetings, Alex?" she asks, leaning back in her chair and steepling her fingers on top of my file. So far it is as thick as a phonebook. "I've had many patients of your sort over the years who just...disappear. Use their acquired skills to hide somewhere even S.H.I.E.L.D can't find them. Live out the rest of the lives under a new alias. Quieter lives. Better lives, maybe."

"Believe me, I've been tempted," I snap, snidely.

Dr Quick leans forwards over her desk. The S.H.I.E.L.D pin on the front of her white blouse briefly catches the bright overhead lighting. "And yet, here you are," she says, opening her hands. "Still here."

I feel my hands ball into fists. Still here. Like a good doggy. Like the Shadow they called me. Now my codename is a more apt description that anyone could have imagined. This anger only hides a hollow shell of the person I once was. The thought triggers my hands to curl up a little tighter, my nails biting into my palms. "Yeah. After all this time. You know why? Because I'm still having panic attacks. Because I still can't sleep at night. Because when I think about Bulgaria I get this feeling like my head is going to god-damn explode!" I can't see. There's a red mist over my eyes. My emotions run away from me, yet again. "One year! You were supposed to make this stop! That was the deal! That's what you promised me!"

My voice catches. I sit back in my chair fighting back the tears that sting my eyes. I will not cry and show weakness in front of this woman. Not when she works for S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Is this true?" she asks. Her voice is so steady I think about picking up her laptop and throwing it across the room. I desperately want her to feel a tenth of the rage I'm feeling.

"Is what true?" I snarl. I honestly can't remember half of what I've said. Incoherent yelling is something I find myself doing a lot.

"You've been having panic attacks?"

"Cut the bullshit. I know you guys are all in this together."

"Me and who, Alex?"

"You and S.H.I.E.L.D. I know you've been watching me. I know my apartment's bugged. I see your guys tailing me in those black SUV's 'incognito'."

Quick tilts her head. "You really think S.H.I.E.L.D would channel so much funding into keeping track of one, retired agent?"

My lips tighten. "Don't do that. Don't make me think that I'm crazy. I know what I'm seeing. I know how this system works."

"You're right. I apologise...let's try a different topic. Why didn't you take up Fury's offer to come back?"

I laugh in her face. "I thought therapists were supposed to have their patient's best interests at heart? Not their bosses."

"I was merely asking how the situation made you feel. Why didn't you accept his job offer? Do you know why he wants you back?"

"I didn't exactly wait around for a job description, if that's what you mean. And whilst you're feeding all this back to Fury after our little 'therapy' session, you can tell him there's no way I'm going back out onto the field. Ever."

"So it's a question of trust," Quick surmises.

I roll my eyes. "Among many, many other things."

She looks at me closely for several seconds, her brow furrowed. "Alex, what if I told you that Fury has no intention of re-hiring you as a spy?"

"I would say you don't know him very well if you believe that. Fury likes to compartmentalise information. He's the guy with the master plan. We're the little guys - we don't get let in on 'The Plan'. Whatever he says he wants with me, it's not the endgame...it's the beginning. And if I say yes, I'm just playing into S.H.I.E.L.D's hands."

Something in Quick's eyes flicker. I wonder if my stubbornness is finally starting to irritate her. It causes me the same kind of satisfaction I'd got when I punched Nick. It's perverse. Wrong. But I want someone to understand what I'm going through, and the only way I can think of achieving that is by lashing out. Quick reaches for my folder and slips out a chunky file, pushing it across the table towards me. "This is an official S.H.I.E.L.D document I've been authorised to give you," she says. "You'll be aware of recent events: HYDRA's infiltration of the agency - it was all over the news."

"I kept my own tabs on S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't need to rely on the TV," I reply, but absentmindedly. I am already rifling through the file. Intrigued, despite myself.

"- well, after the Triskelion fell, we captured one of HYDRA's weapons. A super-soldier assassin they brainwashed into doing their bidding. They called him the Winter Soldier. Fury would like to sign you on to his rehabilitation project."

The page in front of me details the year 1973. This guy killed twenty-three people in one year. Eighteen of them were his targets, five were collateral. I look at Quick. "They think they can bring this guy back from over the Cuckoos Nest?"

"He's a friend of Steve Rogers, from the 1940s. Rogers thinks this man can be...saved. Fury would like to give it a shot, as a favour to Steve."

I pause on the last page of the file. I'm looking at a picture. A dark-haired man lying in a hospital bed - wires taped to his head. There are dark circles under his eyes like bruises. It looks like torture. "What are they doing to him?" I ask, quietly.

"A mixture of cognitive behavioural therapy, combat stress support, physiotherapy, psych eval, ECT and...a lot of medication."

"ECT?"

"Electroconvulsive therapy. He lost his memories. They think if they can reinstate them, they could override the part of his brain that was brainwashed by HYDRA."

"It looks...horrible."

"I understand it's been painful," she concedes. "But his progress has been encouraging."

"It says here he attacked two of the nurses."

"Relapses..." she taps a fingernail against the table's surface. "...much like...physically lashing out at your old boss."

I glare at her. "Thanks for that."

She smiles slightly. Perhaps she's smug she's finally got her own-back after months of difficult therapy sessions. "Sorry. That was inelegant. What I was trying to do was point out that you may be able to empathise with...some...of the emotions Mr Barnes might be feeling right now."

I shut the file, unable to look at it any longer. "So they want the messed-up, PTSD head-case to babysit the psycho HYDRA killer who could snap at any moment? That seems in poor taste."

"Take the file home. Read it. Sleep on the idea," says Quick, busying herself with tidying her desk. Our hour is up. "If you decide yes...well, you know where to find us."

My eyes narrow, but I don't respond. The session's ended and I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.

I can't bring myself to leave the folder. Much as my head tells me I should walk away from it. Some impulse makes me snatch it up and stuff it quickly into my rucksack.

I tell myself I'm just doing this out of curiosity. That I'm not really weak or desperate enough to be falling for this.

When I leave Quick's office, the door shuts behind me. I imagine my therapist immediately picking up the phone and telling Fury the good news: I'm caught in their web again.

A/N Edited 20.05.20 with additional dialogue.

What do you think of the first chapter? Please remember to review!

Last Of The Lilac Wine