"I won't let you hurt anyone," she tells him, just as softly, just as clearly. It is less of a promise than a fact. Whatever happens, if the worst should happen...

The Winter Soldier will not hurt a soul.

Torches flare into the night around them, and he watches the fire, tension strung through every part of him. She takes a few quiet steps, pacing back and forth on the opposite side of the flames, watching him closely, and begins.

"Longing," she says. The Russian words fall gently from her lips.

"Rusted."