Distortion

He recognized her footsteps even before turning around. Precise, firm, measured, like the ticking of a metronome. Barnes stood in his new office by the window—more spacious, brighter, but just as metallic and cold as he himself. The door opened, and there she stood on the threshold—alive, with a slight professional smile, holding a tablet to her chest. “Good morning,” Lauren closed the door behind her and scanned the office as if looking for something. “How are you feeling?” “I’m fine,” Barnes forced out, unable to resist the thoughts swirling in his head. He wanted to approach her, shake her by the shoulders, tell her the whole truth, but he still vividly remembered the echoes of his conversation with Valentina. Back then, James had clearly understood her words that if Lauren learned everything, she would erase her permanently, turning her into an empty shell. “Great,” she turned on the tablet and settled on the sofa by the other window, crossing her legs. “I’ve already arranged a press conference for Thursday, an interview for Wednesday, and a charity dinner for tomorrow. So today we’ll work on social media, and on Friday—” “Don’t go so fast,” James raised a hand, stopping the girl. “Do I really need those social networks?” Lauren raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he were a child. Pressing her lips together, she placed the tablet on her knees. “Absolutely. If you want to win people’s favor, you need to be closer to them.” “Fine,” he gave in, understanding she would do it even without his agreement. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything, show you, and help,” Lauren gave that practiced smile again. “Not surprised,” the man sighed, then listened. There was a knock on the door, and James noticed how the girl’s back straightened at the sound. He opened the door, letting Yelena in. “Good morning,” Lauren nodded in greeting but didn’t stand up. “Lauren,” as if not expecting to see her here, Yelena froze, then walked over to the man’s desk. “I sent you an email, but you haven’t read it.” “Haven’t had time yet,” Barnes nodded toward Lauren, who had opened her tablet. “I found out something,” Yelena lowered her voice so it wouldn’t reach the other end of the room. “She herself wrote that there were others before. Found it in a general email thread; strange she didn’t delete that message.” “Maybe she thought no one would understand or would forget?” Barnes leaned over the monitor where Yelena had already opened the email. “Everyone here keeps their mouth shut.” He lifted his eyes to Lauren, who, swinging her foot boredly, was tapping the tablet screen with a red fingernail. Were there others like her, rewritten like this? Where are they now? Maybe Valentina demoted them to receptionist work? “I don’t know,” Yelena shrugged. “I’ll try to find more, but Valentina is watching us closely right now.” “Thinks we’ll tell her everything?” “Or that we’ll try other ways to reach Lauren. Don’t do anything stupid.” “I’ll try.” Yelena closed the email and left the office without saying goodbye. Barnes, lost in thought, sat down at the computer. “Are you finished?” Lauren spoke up, not looking away from her screen. “I wanted to check if there’s anything I should know? Something that might come up at the wrong moment?” “Is the whole HYDRA part not enough?” he slumped back in his chair, exhaling tiredly. “Apart from that, nothing major, I think.” “I’m actually surprised how everyone accepted the murder of Howard Stark,” she stood up and approached the desk. “Because it was the Winter Soldier.” “Aren’t you and he the same person?” she smirked, sitting down in the chair opposite the desk. “When a person does something under the influence of alcohol or other substances, they aren’t excused from punishment. Though, you could argue they did it under an altered state of mind too.” “You’re comparing those?” “Did your name or appearance change so much that we should stop comparing them?” “Let’s change the subject,” he leaned closer, placing his clasped hands on the desk. “What about the interview?” “We were just working on that,” she adjusted the collar of her snow-white blouse. “Practicing for provocative questions.” “I doubt there will be questions like that,” he looked at her face but couldn’t shake the thought that this wasn’t the same Lauren. Not *his* Lauren Winter. “I’ve asked to find out what specific questions there will be, but that’s in process.” “What’s this charity dinner about?” “Raising funds for a foundation that supports military personnel with PTSD and other illnesses,” she gave him an appraising look. “I think it’s quite appropriate.” “You’re turning me into a circus monkey.” “That’s not true.” “Will we have time for a bar visit with your tight schedule?” he gave a slight smile, looking out the window. “There are always weekends,” Lauren replied immediately, only then considering if it was appropriate. “Do you go to bars with all your subordinates?” “Only with those named Lauren Winter,” he smirked, realizing he’d cornered her. “I give up,” Lauren smiled—seemingly, finally, genuinely, not out of necessity. She stood up, smoothing her skirt. “I still need to go to the neighboring department, and after lunch, we’ll work on the social media.” “Don’t rush,” Barnes stood up to see her out. He opened the door for her, letting her into the hallway. “We’ll do it anyway, whether you want to or not,” she turned on the threshold, poking him in the chest with her finger. “It really is important, James. Get used to modernity.” “Trying,” he replied, closing the door. Left alone with his thoughts, he felt a strange aftertaste from their meeting. The office still smelled of her heavy, oriental perfume, but everything was different. Not the same phrases, not the same gaze, not the same smile. Barnes knew that someday, she would remember what connected them.