Ghost of You

t h i r t y

Nine hours, twenty-four minutes, and thirteen seconds.

That's how much time it took for Ross and his men to track me down. All in all I was surprised I had even made it that long without them catching me. I could only hope it had been enough time for Steve and the others to get out of Berlin and off to wherever the fake psychologist was going to release the other H.Y.D.R.A super soldiers.

Six hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-five seconds.

That was how much time it took for me to be unceremoniously dumped into the back of an armored truck and driven away to an unknown facility. Although, I didn't think we had been driving the whole time. It was hard to tell since I couldn't see anything but I was fairly certain the truck I was on had driven up the ramp of what I assumed was the jet Ross had taken here and we had flown somewhere else.

One hour, thirty-six minutes, and eight seconds.

That was how long I sat in an interrogation room after being led off the truck and through the walls of a completely unfamiliar building. There was a man in there with me, he had said he worked for Ross even though I had never seen him around before. I think he must have been a prosecutor of some kind. Most of the time he spent asking me questions while I refused to answer them, opting for checking the time on my watch. He had left seemingly frustrated afterwards, before he did he told me to get comfortable and not to expect a trial or a lawyer.

No idea hours, don't know how many minutes, and no clue how many seconds.

If it wasn't obvious, they took my watch. Without it, I had no way of knowing how much time I had spent in the holding cell I was moved to. It wasn't as restricting as Barnes's had been. Other than being forced to change into what felt like a cross between a jump suit and those pale blue scrubs doctors always seemed to wear in medical shows, they let me walk around the space of the cell freely. Barnes had been strapped to a chair, although I guess they weren't as worried about me escaping as they had been the Winter Soldier, not that those restraints had helped in that matter at all. 

There were no windows. I was in some sort of box with thick glass walls, thicker than I'd ever have a chance at breaking. Not that I was planning on trying to escape at all. I had made my bed and was ready to lie in it. 

I didn't regret the decision I'd made. In fact, I think I'd never been so sure of anything in my life. I had never wanted to choose sides in the battle over the accords. It had been my plan to follow the noble lead of Switzerland and stay completely neutral. Both Tony and Steve had asked me to pick their side. I had been relieved, even thankful, when Tony hadn't pressed the matter and annoyed when Steve had. Only in the end, it was Tony that had forced me to choose between them. Well actually, it was worse than that, because he hadn't forced me, he had just chosen for me. That sort of betrayal of trust wasn't one I was going to forgive much less forget easily. It's hard to forgive someone when they've lost your respect.

Even though I was sure I had made the right decision in helping Steve and the others get out of Germany, there was one factor that would seep into my thoughts, making me wish I had been able to help them without letting myself get caught. It was hard not to let my thoughts drift to my mom. Countless times I'd imagined my father explaining to her that I had chosen to help a known enemy of the state, that I was now a criminal and it was unlikely that I'd be released or even allowed to see her any time soon. She was probably crushed and so wholely disappointed. I just wished I had a way of explaining to her why I'd done the things I had. If I could just tell her that lives were at stake, that this was more than a piece of paper giving the governments of the world control over the Avengers, she would understand. I knew she would. She'd look at me with that encouraging smile and say something like, "the hardest decisions we will ever make in life are which bridge to burn and which bridge to cross. Either decision is better than making no decision at all."