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Chapter Text

The first snow of the winter season was always a bittersweet one–decades of environmental mishandling by the people in charge had shifted the winter of the northeastern seaboard from one marked by powdery snow and the laughing of the kids playing in it to one of bitter, biting and windy winter days–often followed by 50 degree days right after. It was a cycle that had grown increasingly common throughout the last few years–and much to the sadness of the snow lovers in the area, the first snow of the year could very well be the last. 

Rosalie Ames was no exception to this rule. An avid snow lover, all she yearned for day in and out was for some snow to fall, for snow to stick–to coat the landscape in a pristine white hue as it did when she was a child. Those days now long gone and her well into her late 20’s, all she could do was push by year after year and hope for something to change–for someone in charge to put an end to the greed that consumed the minds of so many–but it never happened. 

The first snowfall of the year was always bittersweet. As she departed from her barista job after closing–a comfortable but much lower salary than she’d need to get by (only scraping with the help of her family–hopefully soon, a newspaper would pick her up.)--the particles of white flittered gently into her opened hand, melting into her tender touch with ease. Snow, she’d remark, was her favorite type of weather. 

The car ride back to her house was less easy than the ride to her old home–one she’d departed very hesitantly. Whereas her old home was close to the cafe she worked at, the home she’d moved into with her closest friends three years ago was further–more into the woods than she’d have preferred. But it was cheap, and it had enough space for 5 people and several pets. Truly, she loved it–even if it meant the commute to work went from 15 minutes to 30. It gave her more time to listen to the music she loved in relative privacy, and today, to admire the falling snowflakes whizzing past her car as she drove just above the speed limit and watch the sky for any airplanes that she may be able to identify with a flight radar app. (An avid aviation geek, her friends would say.) 

A stop to Wawa and the drive continued, the snow still falling. As she veered further into the woods where the cars were scarce and she feared she’d lose cellular connection, it happened. 

A figure, out in the road. Rosalie cried out in shock, quickly slowing down as she got closer and closer. The bright beam of her LED headlights bounced off what appeared to be a metal arm, and through the darkness of the night she couldn’t make out anything else until she got closer. He remained unmoving–not like a deer in headlights, but more so as if he wasn’t sure what was going on in the first place. He? She? She couldn’t tell. 

Rolling to a stop, she kept the doors locked and the person didn’t move. He seemed to stumble, a gust of wind threatening to blow him over, and finally she wasn’t sure what the fuck got into her. Years and years of overprotective parents might’ve made her desire to spread her wings a little too strong, but this? She couldn’t believe she was doing this. 

The lurching in her stomach pulled her towards him. And so, with trembling hands, she got out of the car like an idiot and approached. 

“Sir?” 

He didn’t move–but she could see him more clearly as her headlights gave some better lighting than the dim streetlights that hadn’t been washed in years. Tactical gear–black leather tactical gear adorned him, tightly fitted to what she could only assume was a buff and well-worked body. It wasn’t lust–just an observation. She was far too tired for that. A muzzle-like mask clung to his face, leaving only his eyes–cold, ocean blue hues–to stare down at her, unflinchingly. 

But he was also bleeding, she’d noticed. Several tears in his tactical gear proved that, and though she was heavily sheltered she could tell that they were bullet holes. Bullet holes? Had there been a shooting nearby? 

“Sir…?” 

And once more, he said nothing. Honestly, she wouldn’t have believed him to be real had he not collapsed to the ground. Her eyes widened, a sudden shout leaving her–more so from shock than anything–and quickly, she knelt down next to him and reached a hand out. 

It happened in slow motion, really. One minute, she’d been reaching out to an injured stranger on the road, and the next he’d grabbed her wrist with his metal arm and snapped it like a candy bar. The pain didn’t register for a moment, though when it did, she did everything in her power not to scream. Something wasn’t right about this entire situation–and he moved far too fast to be someone ordinary. 

“Alright–I…” She gritted her teeth. “I deserved that. But I–I won’t hurt you.” 

She steeled her breathing. The look in his eyes was not one of aggression, she’d note–more like fear. Confusion? He seemed out of it, for sure. 

“The hospital–it’s not far from here, so–” 

“Nyet.”

Sharp words pierced through the icy wind. He hadn’t let go of her wrist, but the pressure he applied no longer hurt what was clearly sprained. Nyet? Was it…Russian? Something about her close friend and his stupid war games flashed through her mind, the way he’d mimic words he didn’t quite understand, seeming now to aid her.

“...No hospital. Got–got it…” She nodded shakily. “It’s cold–you’ll…you’ll die out here, so…my car–it’s…” 

No more words were exchanged. The silent man in tactical gear allowed her to lift his weight–something she struggled heavily with, and dragged him to her car. She tried her best not to wince as blood began to stain her white leather seats–something she’d have to get handled with a professional, no doubt. 

The drive back was silent–not even the music played when she realized her new fugitive didn’t appreciate it. Hopefully, her friends stayed out for a little longer. 

–

The Winter Soldier wasn’t sure why he’d decided to go along with this stranger. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure where he was–his earpiece had been discarded long ago, somewhere in the forest he’d stumbled out of. Disoriented and confused, perhaps it was a mixture of the blood loss and exhaustion that had creeped into the soldier’s bones–and this stranger, one who didn’t try to fight when he’d harmed her–perhaps that meant something he couldn’t quite understand. 

Safety? No, no. There was no safety here.

They’d rolled up to a home, and he thought nothing as she rushed to his side of the car and reached to grab him–only to pause and look at him disarmingly. 

“May I?” 

He nodded, against all better judgement of himself. All commands, all instructions, he ignored it. There was no command here–just an extremely persistent stranger and the blood staining his hands. She once again strained under his weight, and all he could do was try to hold his own as she walked him to the front door. Keys jingled from her free hand before the door swung open. It was dark, though she still called out before ushering him inside–not that he had a choice. Were he of more stable mind, he’d be on the defensive. Something was horribly wrong–but he couldn’t place what it was. 

The next few hours were a complete blur. He spent more time unconscious than conscious, only being woken up when the other person in the room accidentally inflicted pain while trying to treat his injuries. A few scrapes and a single gunshot–she was less than qualified to handle it. 

“You know, I watch a lot of House M.D., but he didn’t prepare me for this…and I went to school for journalism, not nursing…” She spoke during one of his moments of consciousness, seemingly rambling to herself. Only responding with a grunt, the man winced from the headache that the lighting gave him and brought his hand, now cleaned and bandaged, up to hide his face. “Do you have a name? Ah–”

House? What the hell was…his thoughts still swam in confusion. Definitely blood loss–but he’d dealt with and survived worse. Had he? These memories that flowed in didn’t seem his own. 

Unconsciousness was the only solace he’d find, it seemed. At least his dreams were silent–empty. 

A void looking to swallow him whole.

This story has a website! Be warned, there will definitely be spoilers in the website, but feel free to check it out! Slice of Heaven

Chapter Text

“I’m usually not willing to wake up so early in the morning, but you must run on a rigid schedule, huh?” 

The sound of crinkling bags and cats hopping up and down from counters filled the otherwise silent atmosphere of the kitchen. It was much homier than The Winter Soldier had experienced in probably his entire life–his memory only went back to about 5 days ago, after all. Warm in all the ways he’d never known. Snow still flitted gently to the ground in the world outside, but the light that was cast in the morning glow, despite being shrouded by clouds, wasn’t so bad. 

“I mean, really–” The woman in front of him rambled on and on. “Waking me up at 7am on the dot. You’re like a cat, you know that?” 

On cue, one of the fuzzy creatures jumped onto the counter in front of him, rubbing its soft body against his face as he sat. He gave no outward reaction. 

“Hey, do you have a name? You never answered me.” 

He thought for a second–a question he wasn’t sure how to answer. The people he followed referred to him with one word– Soldat. Perhaps that was what she meant…? 

“...” He took in a sharp breath through the mask he’d yet to discard, before grumbling his response. “Soldat.” 

“...That’s your name?” 

He nodded wordlessly. 

“Well…do you wanna eat?” She asked, almost sheepishly as she offered him a circular piece of bread with yellowish spread over it. Butter, she’d said. “I can’t finish all this–”

Suddenly, he’d realized just how hungry he was. So, with a hesitant reach, he grabbed the food and removed the mask slowly, chomping down on it almost too roughly. Almost on cue, the woman in front of him snorted before beginning to cough violently. Ever so slowly, Soldat turned to her in confusion. 

“...?”

“Ack–!” She wheezed, tapping her fingers against the counter. It took a few seconds, but with a wheeze she looked up at him. Even in that strange moment where he’d assumed she was dying, she smiled. “It’s not–it’s not going anywhere!”

Naturally, the joke was lost on him. He only tilted his head. 

“You ate it so aggressively, like it would run away if you didn’t. Do you want more? I can make you another one.” 

…Was it okay? He wasn’t used to asking, or even being offered more. Though, before he could make any indication to ask for more, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Quickly, the woman jumped up–likely in an attempt to hide the man who was much larger than her. It was too late, though. Another figure appeared in the doorway. 

“Rosalie?” 

“Eep–!” 

As soon as the figure appeared in the doorway, Soldat stood up–without orders to, mind you, and attempted to walk to the stranger. Rosalie quickly pressed on his chest, attempting to push him back down. 

“No! No! Downdowndown!!!” 

Almost comically, it worked. Soldat sat down, though his imposing stare didn’t waver from the person in the doorway. 

“Rosalie, what’s going on?” 

The voice was gentle–meek, almost. Rosalie smiled nervously, standing up straight and standing in front of Soldat. He craned his neck to continue staring. 

“This is…Sunny!” She smiled. “I met him on Hinge!” 

“And you…didn’t tell us?” 

“...” Her voice went soft. “Ididn’twantyouguystoyellatme…”

The person laughed, stepping forward into the room. “Why is he here? Did you…” 

“No! He–he had an emergency and had nowhere to go…” Rosalie stumbled over her words. “Quinn, please. Cover for me–oh!” 

Turning back to Soldat, she smiled and stepped back. 

“Sunny…this is Quinn McCleary. McCleary, this is…Sunny. Quinn is one of my roommates–uh…they’re cool, so…” 

“Nice to meet you, man!” Quinn stepped forward and patted Soldat’s shoulder. He flinched, but didn’t move. Or speak. An awkward silence began to permeate. 

“...He’s shy.” 

“...Yeah, man. Me too. Uh–I’m just gonna grab some Wawa on the way to work. The others should be awake soon, so you’d better prepare for more introductions.” 

Quinn moved about the kitchen fleetingly, patting the fuzzy creatures gently. They knelt down and gently pat a slightly fatter one, cooing to it gently. “See you later, Danger.” 

Danger. The creature’s name? 

“Do you like cats?” Rosalie smiled. “They seem to like you.” 

Ever so slowly…The Winter Soldier nodded. Perhaps this warm feeling in his chest was what she’d describe as ‘like’. 

He hoped that this simplicity could last forever. How strange–for a mindless dog to wish.

Chapter Text

The next few days were…serene. Soldat was on edge the entire time, the peace being strange for someone like him. He didn’t bother keeping track of the days—it didn’t matter, and he wasn’t sure he’d be here for long. 

Part of him wished he could be here forever. Another part of him wanted to run and never look back. He could almost envision it—these people, all of them laying dead at his feet, their blood staining his hands. Would he feel anything? 

Every new person he met in this house, he attempted to hurt, only to be stopped by Rosalie. There were 4 in total, not including Rosalie. In order of meeting them, it was…

-

“Wha— Lilith!!”  

The door to the bedroom opened with a creak. In the doorway, a strange woman stood, staring at Soldat and Rosalie. Rosalie, who’d been brushing his hair, froze in place. 

“Helloooo!” Her voice was chipper and smooth, the upwards tilt of her mouth giving off an aura of confidence. “Am I interrupting, or…?” 

Rosalie went to answer, but Soldat quickly stood up with practiced ease, ripping his head away from Rosalie. He typically didn’t act on impulse, only acting on commands given to him–but something compelled him. Something deep and innate; an instinct long beaten out of him to force compliance. 

His footsteps were slow, metal hand clenching and unclenching in a threatening manner. But once again, within two seconds the familiar warmth of the woman who’d saved him wrapped around him, her smaller hands gripping his forearm tightly. “Waitwaitwaitwait!!!! Friend! Friend!” 

And he stopped. Once more, it’s comical, but something compelled him. Perhaps that is the part of him that is compliant to orders. 

Rosalie stepped in front of him, though it did nothing to stop his intense glare. Her being a few inches shorter than him had that effect. “Lilith! No, no. You, uh…you didn’t.” 

Although Lilith hadn’t backed away, it was clear as day to Soldat that there was fear in her eyes. It was comforting, in a way–a look he was used to. Rosalie didn’t fear him, but did he even want her to? He watched as Lilith gently took Rosalie’s wrist and tugged her towards her, murmuring something. 

“Who's the scary man in your bedroom?”

“Sunny. His name is Sunny–we met on Hinge, and he had nowhere to go. He’s, uh…shy.” 

“What’s with the leather?” 

“He’s a big fan of leather.” 

“...Uh huh…and is he the reason your wrist is in a splint?”

“No. Work sprain.”

The girls separated, and Rosalie turned to Soldat with her usual smile. It was warm. Warmer than he was used to. “Sunny, this is Lilith. She’s another roommate. Like Quinn, remember?” 

Silently, Soldat stared. Then, ever so slowly, he nodded. 

“...He’s shy.” 

“Oh, okay,” Lilith sighed, giving a slight smile. “Make yourself at home. It’s nice to meet you, Sunny.” 

Before stepping out of the room, Lilith sent a look to Rosalie–one that Soldat couldn’t read. 

“Have fuuuun~.”

The playful lilt in her tone couldn’t mask the definite fear she felt for him. With Lilith gone, though, Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief and beckoned him back towards the bed, where he sat back on the floor in front of her and allowed her to resume brushing his tangled hair. 

-

The second one…

-

He had been sleeping–much like an alligator, with one side of his brain constantly awake to look for danger. Exhaustion had taken over before, but never like this. Now, with his head in the lap of the woman who’d saved his life, her soft fingers combing through his hair, he couldn’t help but succumb to this pleasure. Two halves of him fought for control–one telling him to be on edge, to not trust her, to find his way back to his owner, and the other…

Just wanting this peace to last forever. 

The door to her room had swung open gently this time, a masculine voice cutting through the silence. He’d almost shot up on the offensive, ready to attack at the first sign of danger had Rosalie not lightly tugged on a lock of his hair as if to tell him to stay put.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” The other voice had asked softly. 

“No, no,” Rosalie hummed. He felt the vibrations of her voice through her skin. “What’s up?” 

“I was going to ask if you had an HDMI cable I could borrow, but…who…is this?” 

“His name is Sunny,” She started with the introduction again. Hinge, emergency, nowhere to go, big fan of leather. “Lilith and Quinn have already met him.” 

“I see…” He murmured. “Is he…at least potty trained?” 

Silence fell over the room before Rosalie snorted. “I don’t have an HDMI. Get out, Jace.” 

With a chuckle, Jace left the room. Rosalie turned down to look at him, one of his eyes open to peek at her. She only smiled and covered it with her palm. 

“Another roommate. Go back to sleep.” 

-

And the third…

-

“There’s no way you don’t know what saltines are, Soldat. They’re with every soup at every restaurant!” 

His head shook indignantly. The only food he was given at the…where was it? He wasn’t sure what to call it–home base, maybe? The only food given was whatever the guards served him, and that usually consisted of stale bread, tough protein, unseasoned vegetables, and some water. If he was lucky, the bread would be fresh. Sometimes he’d get rice, and every so often the vegetables would be salted. 

But never anything else, and he’d experienced more flavor here than he’d ever had at the home base. 

“Well, here. Try one–” 

A familiar phrase cut through their conversation–a person they hadn’t even heard approach stepping into the kitchen. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Immediately, Rosalie’s hand shot to Soldat’s shoulder, imploring him to stay in place. “Quint, you’re home already? I thought you weren’t off for another 2 hours.” 

“I got sent home,” Quint sighed, stepping through the kitchen. “Too many people and not enough business. Who's the scary guy?” 

The same introduction. Sunny from Hinge, had an emergency with nowhere to go, big fan of leather, shy. He wordlessly munched on the crackers she’d given him while staring holes into the new person. 

“Sunny, this is Quint. Another roommate.”

He nodded. 

“Guess those hours on Hinge finally worked in your favor, huh?” Quint grinned, rifling through the cabinets and procuring a skull shaped mug. “Neat…a bodyguard for this place would be pretty sweet…” 

As he walked past, Quint patted Soldat lightly on the shoulder before making his way to the fridge and grabbing a brown bottle. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” 

And he was gone from the kitchen. Rosalie turned to him and patted his hair gently, praising him for staying still. 

“Next, we’ll work on your communication, ‘kay?” 

-

All of them had grown used to his presence over the course of the days he was there, even going to lengths to include him in things. If he was caught in the kitchen at night, Lilith would make him pizza rolls and share them with him. If Rosalie had to leave the house for some reason, Quinn shared a book with him. The words were always foreign, but he felt he could understand them anyway. Jace asked him if he wanted anything from Wawa, and Quint let him hold one of his tiny rodents. They set a place for him at the dinner table each night, offering to help him with laundry and find him new clothes. 

It was nice. It was warm. It was a slice of heaven that he wasn’t sure he deserved. Wasn’t sure he could handle. Gradually throughout the week, his guard slipped down. 

But heaven wasn’t forever. Not for The Winter Soldier.

Chapter Text

Seven days had passed by the time Soldat warmed up to the others in the house. Though he seldom spoke to them, he didn’t glare as much–and was more willing to be around them when Rosalie was at work. The cats seemed to like him, as did Lilith’s dog, Ben. He ate dinner with them, being made to try different food from Jace’s culture or some leftovers Quint’s mother sent over. When they went grocery shopping, he stayed and watched the house, preferring to avoid the crowds. In a sense, he’d become another roommate. Sunny from Hinge–it was a much better name than Soldat, even though Rosalie still called him that. 

One of Rosalie’s off days started off normally. All of the others in the house worked, so it was just her and him. Once more, he’d been awake much earlier than her, and spent the three hours until she’d woken up in various ways–watching her sleep (she’d called him a cat for that), pacing the house, standing idly in the kitchen, before finally settling in the book nook. Though he had no desire to read, it was nice to just sit in the room–it smelt nice, he’d note. 

“You’re awake?” 

He’d begun to recognize Rosalie’s footsteps, so they tended to fade into the background of whatever noise buzzed in his mind first. As such, she’d managed to sneak up on him–but he wasn’t frightened in the least. 

Silently, he nodded, staring mindlessly out the window. 

“Do you want breakfast?” 

And he turned to her, slowly, and nodded. He noted the splint around her wrist, tight and secure, and a pang of something unfamiliar washed through him. He’d done that–was this regret? He wasn’t sure, but she never mentioned the sprain, and didn’t seem angry about it. 

“Come on,” She hummed. “We’ve got some cereal.” 

He wasn’t one to complain, and so she poured him a bowl of multicolored circles–the box read ‘Froot Loops’, and some milk and a spoon. It felt too tiny in his hand, but he didn’t complain. She got the same thing for herself, taking some pills after the first few spoonfuls of cereal. The silence that fell over them was comforting–clearly, both of them trusted each other enough for that. 

After breakfast, Soldat took a shower, and afterwards sat on the ground while Rosalie dried his hair with a towel (or more like threw a towel over his head and violently ruffled it around until his hair was semi-dry) and then brushed through it. He’d been given spare clothes from Quint, and found them to be much more enjoyable than the leather tactical gear he’d been wearing before. Rosalie showed him some music, and when he didn’t like it, she turned on white noise instead. He found himself back in her lap, allowing himself to succumb to the sound from the headphones and Rosalie’s gentle touch. 

A knocking at the door roused them, Rosalie’s shifting causing Soldat to remove the headphones and listen to who was outside. As she beckoned for them to come in, the door pushed open and Quinn stood in the doorway with a book. 

“Hey, you’re home early.”

“Sorry for bothering,” They said softly. “I found a book at work that our big fella over here might like.” 

Gesturing to Soldat, the larger man sat up, his face blank but eyes spelling curiosity. 

“Not really sure about your tastes, so I took some liberty in choosing.”

Sitting down next to them, the book was handed off to Soldat. Rosalie smiled lightly, thanking them and peering over Soldat’s shoulder to read the title. “Murder on the Orient Express…” 

“Is it a good one? I haven’t actually–” 

Clink. Clink. Clink. 

Soldat perked up, eyes following the direction of the sound as it traveled around the roof. 

“Raccoons?” Rosalie hummed, not seeming overly concerned. “We should have Quint go up there and check it out. Do you think Jackson would help, too?” 

“Maybe,” Quinn chuckled. 

Although Soldat said nothing, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. He grabbed Rosalie’s uninjured wrist and yanked her towards him, trying to be gentle but failing. She only winced and sighed. 

“Is something wrong?” 

With no warning, the windows surrounding them shattered with the force of several pairs of tactical boots slamming into them. It felt like slow motion as glass projectiles shot around the room violently, the sudden sound of the chaos swarming the three with a boom. Soldat attempted to cover Rosalie, using the metal arm to deflect some of the glass away from her. Her fingers grasped tightly to the cloth of his shirt, a cry of shock leaving her. Quinn ducked down, covering their head with their arms as the glass flew. 

“What the fuck?!”

Soldat’s eyes darted around rapidly, noting the company that had violently joined them. One, two, three, four, five…six armed soldiers carrying large assault rifles, faces fully covered by tactical masks. Various holsters on their bodies carried various weapons–knives, guns, grenades, the likes. His eyebrows furrowed even further, a slight scowl crossing his face. 

As he focused on Rosalie’s safety, he failed to notice one of the soldiers approaching Quinn and yanking them upwards. The muzzle of a gun was shoved into their temple, and a light yelp left their lips, body freezing upon contact with the gun. They glanced at Rosalie and Soldat, who had snapped his gaze over to him and sat conflicted over how to separate himself to keep both safe. 

“The Asset is to remove itself from the civilian immediately.”

The cold, sharp voice from behind the soldier’s mask cut through the sudden silence like a knife, and all occupants of the room froze. 

“...What?” Rosalie muttered. “Sol–Sunny?” 

“The…the asset…?” Quinn murmured to themselves, being silenced immediately by the soldier shoving the gun harder into their temple. 

“The Asset is to remove itself from the civilian immediately.”

Like a stubborn cat, Soldat only curled himself further around Rosalie, who held him in a grip so warm and gentle that he felt he might melt. His insistence to stay only further angered the soldier holding Quinn, whose finger hovered dangerously over the trigger. 

He moved in the blink of an eye. One arm secured around Rosalie, he rushed forward in a flurry of grey and silver–speed clearly that of a nonhuman–and kicked the soldier away. Rather than stumbling backwards, he flew, crashing into the wall and leaving a dent where he hit. Blood seeped from his mask–unconscious upon impact. 

“Wha–?!” 

All of the guards jumped into action, descending on the three of them with knives drawn and guns out. Soldat dropped Rosalie on the ground and ran back into the room, leading the soldiers away from the two. Immediately, she began nursing her sprained wrist again, breathing heavily with wide eyes as she watched the spectacle. 

“Rosalie!” Quinn whispered, pointing to the stairs. “Come on!” 

“But we need to–!” 

It hardly seemed as if Soldat were exerting any effort. All drawn weapons were disarmed with ease, no gunshots being able to sound as each weapon was snapped in half. Quinn and Rosalie could only stare in awe, a silent reverement to the unknown capacity of the Soldat. He’d had this strength the entire time, and never once did he hurt them. 

(Sure, he attempted to–but it was only out of fear, wasn’t it?)

The sound of more boots clanking alerted the two to the presence of others in the hallway. Their heads snapped to the sound, but it was far too late for them to run as a sudden electric pulse connected to each of their necks simultaneously. Immediately, Soldat’s head snapped to them, alerted to the sounds of their cries, and he attempted to change course to get to them. 

Silently, another soldier moved in, a large syringe with a strange substance glowing in the daylight. He shoved the needle into Soldat’s neck, causing him to momentarily freeze up before roaring with rage and snapping his arm back, flicking the soldier back into the wall and smashing the syringe under his shoe. 

By the time he could come to his swaying senses, Rosalie and Quinn had been detained by additional guards, forced to lay on the floor, slipping in and out of consciousness. He, too, could sense with the way his vision swung in and out of focus, that something was dangerously wrong. With no time to think, no time to act, no time to–

Thump.

He collapsed to the floor, immediately being detained by several backup soldiers. They muttered to each other through their headsets, though he could not make out any words or noises. 

The last thing he registered before falling victim to the darkness was Rosalie’s strained cry–a whimper of his name. 

“Soldat…!”

Chapter Text

4:40am.

The 6am-2pm shifts always killed Quinn–though nowadays they weren’t so bad. Sleep was better in this house than the last, and everyone was able to respect the time well enough to where they’d managed to get a consistent 7 hours of sleep each night. It was nice. Better. They knew how to be quiet in the mornings just as the others knew to be quiet in the evenings. 

The coffee machine rumbled to life with the sounds of whirring, the water boiling through the pod and into their mug. “#1 Shaker” read the outside of the mug, with a picture of their ass custom printed on. It had been a birthday gift from Quint and their fiancee, Evelyn. They munched on a muffin, sipping their coffee while watching the moon slowly float down towards the horizon. 

Snow was predicted for today–an arctic blast, even. They thrived in the cold–craved it, prayed for it. If it were to snow, it would mark the first snowfall of the year. Around this time last year…

Already, one year had passed since the incidents with Sunny. Soldat? Whatever Rosalie had called him last. They weren’t sure, but they did find themselves wondering occasionally what happened to him–who those people were…what they wanted from them. After that, they’d been left alone to clean up the damages, with no one to sue. They were lucky that Rosalie’s father was more than willing to pay, and even more willing to install a security system. 

There was nothing that could be done in the wake of it all, and so, life resumed. Rosalie gradually got over it, though she never stopped wondering if there was some way she could’ve protected her little friend from Hinge. All they could do was comfort her and help each other move on. 

The clock struck 5–they’d have to leave soon. Finishing their food and coffee, Quinn crept through the house and checked on the various things around–made sure the cats had food, the animals had water, and finally parted by making sure the doors were locked, and stayed locked. 

A frost had covered their windshield. Quinn got into the car and turned it on, allowing it ample time to heat up and for the frost to melt away before they began driving, humming to the CD they’d bought a few weeks ago. 

The drive was idyllic. The sun, slowly creeping over the horizon, lit up the frosty leaves of the trees surrounding their house. Morning commuters filled the roads in a frenzy to get where they needed to be, the rush of impending snow storms causing many places to stock up and get swarmed with visitors. Quinn knew their job would be no different. Ultimately, it would be a rough day. 

Stopping at a red light, Quinn momentarily checked their phone. Pedestrians crossed the crosswalk in front of them, moving fast to escape the cold and seeking the comfort of their destination. Everyone had places to be. 

Everyone but one. 

As the light turned green, a large person dressed in a completely black and drapey hood stood in the crosswalk, directly in front of Quinn’s car. They set their phone down and started to go but quickly stopped, eyebrows raising in confusion. 

“What the…” 

Even with a honk, the person didn’t move. They glanced in their rearview mirror, watching as several cars peeled backwards and went around them–and they set their car in reverse to do the same. As they started to go, a loud THUNK hit the roof of their car. A loud cry left their lips, foot slamming on the brake pedal immediately. Heart thrumming, they slowly craned their neck up–

And missed the back of an assault rifle slamming into their car window, shattering it. An arm donned in tactical gear shoved its way into the vehicle, grabbing them by the neck. A vain struggle ensued–their fingers scratching at the leather gloves and trying to peel them off of them. The passenger side door was ripped off of it’s hinges and another soldier entered the vehicle, holding a small syringe in their hands. 

“Wh–?!”

The syringe was jabbed unceremoniously into their neck. Combined with the force of the hand over their throat, unconsciousness seeped in fast–and relief came through when the world went black. 

-

7:30am

The alarm beeped to life with a start, the sound of barking rousing the sleeping Lilith from her rest. Rolling over provided no relief from the noise, forcing her to sit up and grab her phone to turn it off. Another early shift–another miserable shift. The day started like any other–and she only hoped it would end like any other as well.

Getting up, she groaned and shuffled to the bathroom, combing through the curls in her hair and brushing the morning breath out of her teeth. Sleepiness threatened to overtake her one too many times–up until the moment she made her coffee, she could hardly keep her eyes open. 

“Calm down, girl…” She mumbled sleepily to an all too hyper dog as she filled the food bowl. “You’ll wake the others up.”

The day was quiet–the possibility of snow was uncertain, but exciting nonetheless. It would be nice to smoke outside as the snow fell–aesthetic, even. 

(Realistically, she knows the breeze would extinguish her blunt.)

After Ben ate, she let her out into the backyard and let her run. Within two seconds she was back at the door and scratching to get in–so she let her in. 

Getting ready was a drag, but soon it was 8:15 and she had to leave. So, with a parting pat to Ben’s head, she was off–stopping at Wawa for some breakfast and an iced coffee. Nothing out of the ordinary happened on the drive there, and once she stopped she all but started to rush into the building. 

“Excuse me.” 

Just outside the door, the sound of someone stopped her. The switch was immediate from normal to customer service. 

“How can I help you?” 

Within seconds of turning to the elderly woman, a sharp, stinging pain registered in her neck. In less than a moment, she was passed out cold, without a single clue as to what happened. 

-

9:30am

Even on his days off, Quint couldn’t find himself able to sleep in as often anymore. Years of consistently waking up early had altered his sleep schedule, and now waking up at 8am felt like the new norm. By the time he’d gotten out of bed, Lilith had been peeling out of the driveway to start another day. For Quint, he wasn’t sure how he’d spend it. 

Evelyn would be coming over later that day–around 5pm. If he started now, he could finish his chores before then. Visit parents, go to the grocery store, get more pet supplies, come home and clean…it would be over before 3pm! With a newfound excitement for the day, Quint threw on a jacket and remotely started his car from the house, letting it heat up for a moment before stepping out of the house and getting in. By now, he’d done this drive a thousand times–it was roughly 45 minutes to his parent’s house, and then 15 to the stores, and then 30 back home. The roads during this time were filling up–school children, employees, families, travelers; they all had somewhere to be. He, too, had somewhere to be. A lot to prepare for, a lot to do. Being an adult was annoying.

But it was an annoying that he was happy with–because at least he wasn’t alone. 

The visit to his parents was normal. He ate breakfast with them and helped his father fix his laptop (a gift he’d given when he moved out), and departed two hours later. 11:30am–the roads were less congested than in the morning. If he could get everything done before the afternoon rush, he’d be happy. 

Next stop–Petco. Gort and his ratlings were in need of food, and some more substrate. Rosalie’s cats needed food as well, and Danger needed some litter. A large haul was underway–luckily, they’d all given him money the previous night to get everything. Maybe he’d pick up some toys for the animals, as well. 

The wind was biting and hurt his ears as he rushed inside the building, shopping around for a bit before heading to the register with all of his items. On the way there, he stopped to pet a dog in the store. 

“What’s her name?” He asked the owner, whose face was hidden behind a face mask. (Not odd, considering the temperature). 

“...” 

With no answer, he went to stand up–but the dog, small and unmoving previously, suddenly started to growl. He took a step back, intending to get away before he further angered the dog, when the owner suddenly spoke up. 

“ Атака .”*

The dog latched onto his arm in an instant, its teeth managing to cut through the fabric of his shirt. He cried out, not from pain but from the pure shock of it all. He attempted to shake it off of him, looking up at the owner in wait for them to do something. Employees rushed over in an attempt to help, but the dog owner raised their arm, physically swatting them away like flies when they got too close. They flew–much farther than he’d ever seen a human being fly before–and slammed into the walls or shelves behind them. When Quint stood up, still trying to furiously get the dog off of his arm without hurting it, the owner grabbed their free arm and yanked it towards them. The dog dropped to the floor almost on command, and Quint stumbled forward. The strength this person held was something he could not contest. 

It was almost inhuman. 

“What is your problem–?!”

Their free hand swung out from inside their pocket, a large syringe held tightly in their hands. Before Quint could blink, the stranger grabbed their hair and yanked them forward, jabbing the needle unceremoniously into his neck. The pain was instant, and he immediately attempted to shove the person away, but whatever they injected started to burn his veins, an icy fire lighting up inside of him. His fight grew weaker and weaker, and eventually, he was unable to keep his eyes open as a heavy wave of sleep passed over him. 

The agent and their dog stepped out of the store, his limp body flung over their shoulder like it weighed nothing at all. 

-

10:15am

With nothing to do that day and chores needing to be done, Jace had the whole day planned already. It wasn’t much–while Quint handled the food, Jace would handle cleaning–a little surprise for his friend so he could rest when he got back. 

Rosalie was still dead asleep, so it was difficult to maneuver without making too much noise–but like always, he managed just fine and fished out the vacuum and the mop. Heading into the supply closet for the floor cleaner, he stopped. 

…All out. 

Right–he’d made that mental note several days ago when doing this exact chore; “go get more cleaner”. But of course, he’d forgotten, and no one else had remembered. He sighed and shuffled back up to his room, throwing on some shoes and a coat and heading out. 

It wouldn’t be so bad. With a stop to Wawa on the way, he had a full belly and was ready to walk into that Walmart and get exactly what they needed. Maybe he’d buy in bulk to avoid this happening again…

Upon arrival at Walmart, he headed inside and grabbed a cart, pushing it through the aisles filled with old people and young parents alike. So close to Holiday City, it was a wonder they even managed to get here safely. The whole area was a nightmare to drive in. 

As he walked along, he hummed to the familiar tune played on the radio of the store–something he didn’t listen to on his own, but knew nonetheless. The cleaning aisle was stocked full, and he knew he’d be in and out momentarily. Browsing was never a hassle–he always went for the Great Value stuff. 

“Excuse me,” came a soft, strained sounding voice from beside him. Turning, he saw a little elderly woman, smiling politely with her cart full of items. “I need help reaching the degreaser at the top. Can you grab it for me?” 

“Oh, of course!” Jace beamed. “Which one? Any?” 

“Oh, any will do.” 

He reached up, grabbing for the first one he could get and wrapping his hands around it, pulling it down. She smiled, taking it from him and thanking him gingerly. 

“Oh, and by the way…” She hummed as she passed by him. 

“Yes?” 

Her frail hands moved quickly–quicker than he’d expected someone of her stature and physique to be able to move. A syringe was procured from her purse, and her hand flew towards his neck, the needle injecting him before he could blink. 

“ Приветствую Гидру .”*

And he was out like a light, cart abandoned in the middle of the aisle. 

-

“Alright, let me get this straight.”

James Buchanan Barnes stood at the table of the control room, blue eyes staring coldly at the holograms and graphs pulled up in front of him. In the room with him were the heroes of the century, the Avengers, watching him with cautious but curious eyes. 

“Our intel is telling us that HYDRA operatives are active in central New Jersey, and you believe the cause of that is a week-long fling you had with a civilian while under their programming?” 

“Yes,” He sighed exasperatedly. “I do–and it wasn’t a fling.”

“No, no, of course not!” Tony rolled his eyes, waving his hands dramatically. “You just lived with her for a week, and let her wash and brush your hair and feed you, and slept in the same room–she even had a nickname for you! But no, it wasn’t a fling.”

“She saved my life.”

Dealing with the Avengers, especially Tony Stark, was always draining. The only solace he found was Steve (who stood next to him, acting as a comforting presence.) 

“The area that they’re moving in,” He stated, pointing to the holographic map. “That’s where I remember them being.”

“Them. There’s more than one?”

He nodded. “We need to follow their movement, follow them. They might be going after her.”

“Why in the hell would HYDRA go after a civilian? Did you spill secrets to her?” 

He shook his head. “No, but my guess is that they’re looking for answers to my disappearance from them. It’s not like anyone knows I’m here except for you guys.” 

It had been decided from the moment he returned from deprogramming in Wakanda that the public would not yet know of his joining of the Avengers. First, deals had to be brokered with the government, and after that he had to be put through court-mandated therapy. Only then, they’d decided, would he be allowed to be a public figure of the Avengers; but to the rest of the world, The Winter Soldier had simply vanished out of thin air after a fight with Steve Rogers. 

“Alright,” Steve sighed. “Let’s follow them–there looks to be one more marker moving, so let’s trail them and get some information.”

“I’m coming,” Bucky stated. 

Steve shook his head. “You can’t, Buck. You know the rules.”

“I’m coming along.”

His icy-cold tone, though it had no effect fear wise, was enough to bend the will of Steve, who had an ever growing soft spot for the soldier. 

“...You stay in the car.”

Chapter Text

To Rosalie Ames, closing shifts were always the best–some things never changed, it seemed. Late at night, it got calmer and quieter, and people were kinder than they would be in the morning. There was less of a rush to do things–more time to relax and think in between customers–she’d use that time to research, apply, hunt for any magazine, news station, or newspaper that would take her.

But in the beginning of those shifts, it was busy. 1-9pm; 1 was still right in the middle of peak hours, and it didn’t really slow down until 5 or 6, depending on the day and time of year. Luckily, right after the holidays usually meant it would slow down earlier. 

3pm was still just as lively as 2pm, and 2pm was still as lively as 1pm. She’d been on drive thru for her entire shift so far–luckily, a small break was coming up, but she knew she wouldn’t get to go until the line got down. She had the energy, and listening to her coworker’s conversations in between cars always made things a little more bearable. 

“Just waiting on the large coffee, they’re making it right now,” She smiled to the man in the drive thru. “Would you like a sleeve or a drink stopper?” 

“I’m pretty sure this guy is the same guy that told Maddie to fuck off and die when his coffee was too light,” came the voice of her coworker through the headset. “But he asked for light and sweet, so I don’t know what the hell he wanted.”

“He’s been nice so far,” Rosalie murmured into the microphone, grabbing the now finished coffee and handing it off. “Have a nice day!” 

“Rosie, do you want to take your 10 now?”

“I’ll hold off–I wanna get this line down.”

It was the same cycle, repeated over and over again. Greeting, money, hand off, goodbye. Though monotonous, years of the same thing had made this muscle memory by then, and she found it second nature to slip into a rhythm.

“Can someone come up and ring?”

“I got it.”

This peace–this monotony couldn’t last forever. 

-

“This is the place?” Sam raised an eyebrow, bracing himself against the harsh and biting winter wind of the Jersey Shore. “A Starbucks?” 

“This is where the location said,” Steve sighed. “Sam, can you give me some cover on the roof, and I’ll go inside?” 

The sound of a car door slamming alerted Steve and Sam to the approaching presence of Bucky, who wore a baseball cap to conceal his identity, along with a jacket to hide the arm. Steve immediately sighed and turned to him. 

“I told you to stay in the car.” 

“And I told you that isn’t happening.” 

Sam’s light chuckle dissipated some of the tension forming. “The longer we spend having a staring contest, the more precarious this gets. I’ll head up on the roof–”

Rather than use the wings attached to his back, he found it much easier (and much more inconspicuous) to use the ladder on the side of the building. When he disappeared around the corner, Steve turned to Bucky with an almost scolding look. 

“Say nothing, okay?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. They headed into the building, the smell of coffee filling their noses. The inside of the cafe seemed much less busy than the drive thru–which made sense to Bucky. This weather was brutal–he wasn’t the biggest fan of the winter. 

The two stepped in line, and Bucky immediately began surveying the area. About 6 employees that he could see working in the front, and about 10 customers lingering in the cafe, either sitting and chatting or doing work on their lonesome. The music wasn’t too loud–but it still irritated him nonetheless. 

His eyes trailed over to the window, where one person manned both the window and ordering screen. She worked effortlessly, with a wide smile, and energy radiated off of her being. Bucky felt himself staring for far too long. 

Time felt like it slowed down when she turned, coincidentally catching his eye, and gasped.

“Soldat…?” 

-

“Line’s down, Rosie. Go on your 10.”

“Got it,” Rosalie sighed, slipping off her headset and turning slightly to her coworker. “I’ll be back in 10–”

As she turned, her eyes caught sight of a figure in the cafe, standing imposingly next to another equally large man. His eyes bore right into her–a familiar stare, one that chilled her to her core and warmed her at the same time. A gasp involuntarily left her lips. 

“Soldat…?”

-

“Sniper in the trees,” came the voice of Sam through the comms. “He’s lining up to fire.”

“So take care of him,” Steve hissed softly. “Are there any more?” 

“Yeah, about 2 others up here with me–a little busy–!”

His voice cut out, and momentarily Bucky debated running up to his aide, but Steve was much faster to react, bolting out the door they’d come from. His eyes snapped back to Rosalie, and then to a glint in the trees. The familiar sight made his blood run cold, and instinct kicked in as he ran and leapt over the counter, disregarding the bottles of syrup he knocked over in his wake to get to where he needed to be. Though he tried to be gentle, holding back his strength wasn’t easy to do in the heat of the moment–it was something he’d been training to do before his public ‘debut’. His flesh arm grabbed Rosalie by the shoulder and yanked her down with him, metal arm raised over the counter ledge to deflect the projectile. 

As he lifted his head, he noticed a small tranquilizer sticking out of the metal. The store had stilled, the only noise being the crappy music and Rosalie’s breathing. She had yet to lift her head up from underneath his hold. 

He only had seconds to think–reaching up, he shoved the sliding door of the window shut and stood up, locking it so it wouldn’t slide open on its own. His comms crackled to life with the sound of Steve and Sam’s victory over the two agents on the rooftop, and he could vaguely remember hearing Steve instruct Sam to go get the one in the tree. His own heartbeat covered up most of the sound, though. 

“Soldat…?”

That calming, saccharine voice filled his ears, the feelings he’d lost a year ago returning to him all at once; calm, safe, warm, loved. He kept his arm securely around her, eyes scanning the building and its occupants for more agents before he reached up, shaking the syringe out of his arm and stomping on it. 

“Building’s secure.” 

-

What was going on? What was happening? It had all been so quick–a flurry of red and black, and then she was being yanked down and pulled into a warm, tight embrace. It was protective–it was as gentle as the day she’d lost him. 

“Soldat…?” She whispered, fingers grasping the fabric of his jacket tightly. Her body involuntarily trembled, the fear and confusion overpowering the joy of realization–that he was here. Alive. Something she’d yearned to know for an entire year, now confirmed before her eyes. 

“Building’s secure,” He spoke, and she assumed it was to a headset. Within a moment, two other men entered the building, locking the doors behind them, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Were these the men from a year ago? What was going on…?

“Hey,” Her manager spoke suddenly, harshness in his tone directed towards Soldat. “You need to explain what’s happening, or I’ll call the cops. What the hell is this?”

“I–”

“Bucky,” said another familiar voice. She looked up, lifting her head from Soldat’s arm (he had yet to let her go) and looking towards the owner–and oh. That’s Captain America. That’s Captain America in her fucking store. (If she could just get an interview…) “Did you hear what we said? We need to go.” 

“She’s compromised,” ‘Bucky’ spoke. (Was that his real name? He had yet to speak to her, but she could hear his heart thrumming in his chest.) “We need to take her with us.” 

“Wasn’t that the plan?” Sam Wilson, The fucking Falcon, sighed. “We need to go before everyone gets compromised.”

Their back and forth made Rosalie’s head spin, and all the while ‘Bucky’ had yet to let her go or speak to her. Finding no other option, she began trying to wiggle away. That, of course, made his head snap towards her. 

“Stay still.” 

“...” She stared, eyebrows furrowing. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

Steve Rogers, like, Captain America, stepped behind the counter, placing a hand on ‘Bucky’s shoulder. Her coworkers glanced towards her, unsure of what to do at the point of two Avengers being in their job, behind the counter. Should they throw aprons at them and tell them to get to work? She was just as out of answers as they were. At this point, she could feel something was wrong–and any desires to further her own budding journalism career didn’t matter.

“Let’s go, Buck.” 

And suddenly, she was being dragged. On instinct, her heels dug into the concrete floor in an attempt to stop, but all that did was make her stumble and nearly trip as the man with inhuman strength dragged her through the store. She looked to her coworkers, eyes wide, trying to gesture for help. 

“We’ll explain in the car,” He suddenly, and finally, spoke to her. “If we say too much, your friends are compromised, too.”

Ah. That did it. 

“...Can I…at least grab my coat?”

Chapter Text

The ride back to…wherever she was being taken was slow and silent. Rosalie sat behind Steve in the driver’s seat, while ‘Bucky’ sat behind Sam. Occasionally, he’d nudge the man’s chair in front of him with a huff, but it only made Sam laugh and inch his seat a little further back. Rosalie was tense in the chair, staring hard at her lap as she went over the many different possibilities of what was happening in her head. 

There were a few things to grapple with here;

1. Soldat was alive. 
2. Soldat was with the Avengers.
3. Soldat was being called ‘Bucky’.
4. The Avengers had kidnapped her. 

It was an interesting conundrum, really. Her stomach began to hurt with the anxiety festering her mind, so finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. 

“What’s going on, Mr. Rogers…?” 

She spoke directly to the man in the front seat, who glanced at her with a small, slightly reassuring smile. It actually did nothing to ease her fears. 

“Buck.” 

Immediately, ‘Bucky’ turned to her. His eyes, still as hauntingly and mesmerizingly blue as when he’d glared into her that night in the woods, were also just as intense–though this time, he lacked the look of a frightened animal of prey. “You’re being hunted.” 

“What?!” 

“Great way to start it off,” Sam laughed. “Really. You have such a way with words, Buck.” 

“Shut the hell up,” He scowled, kicking the back of the chair lightly. “I was getting to it–”

“Were you?”

She watched as the crease in between his eyebrows grew, from a thin line to several. His anger was palpable, and for a moment she wondered if it would just be better to leave him be–but who would she be if she did that? 

“Pleasedon’tsnapmywristagain.” She whispered quickly, reaching over and placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, eyes widening, and instinctively, he moved away just a bit. Immediately, a pang of regret coursed through her entire body–but it quickly went away when ‘Bucky’ relaxed and leaned back into it. 

“Sorry…” He muttered. “Uh–I have a lot to explain to you…” 

“...Yeah…”

She hesitated, allowing a slight silence to linger. It was slightly embarrassing to be in the company of two others, and she indicated as such by glancing over to the front seat. However, the copious amount of emotion flowing through her overpowered that pretty quickly. 

“I spent…I spent pretty much the entire year trying to understand what happened…” She started. “Who you were, where you came from, where you went…when I searched your name, Google Translate came up…”

“‘Soldat’ is what they called me…” He frowned. “My real name is James Buchanan Barnes…but most people just call me Bucky.”

“James Buchanan Barnes…Bucky…” She repeated, letting it linger on her tongue for an additional moment. “It’s a nice name.”

“Thanks…” 

Rosalie glanced at him, noting the way his eyebrows seemed to furrow–and she was unsure if he was annoyed or just had that face all the time. When he was with them at the house, the frown and anger gradually dissipated as the days went on. She recalled the peace that he held when sleeping on her lap, or the way he looked almost curious about things she’d carded as normal, like saltines or Froot Loops. 

“I’m happy you’re alive,” She mumbled, voice threatening to tremble. Something she could never help was how easily she got emotional. “I’m really happy–I… what happened?”

Bucky seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Rosalie could almost envision the gears turning in his head. “When you found me, I was on the run from HYDRA.” 

“Like the Nazis?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“I’ll…get into why later, but…those men that destroyed your house were HYDRA agents, and they were there to take me back.”

She watched his metal arm clench and unclench uncertainly over the cloth of his jeans, then shift to the leather of the seats. This time, she held out her hand to him–giving him the option to take it or not. He did so, albeit loosely.

“It’s okay.” 

Steve and Sam, oddly enough, were quiet. She silently thanked the lords for that. 

“They did, and I was with them for most of the last year. Steve saved me from them–”

“I wouldn’t give myself all the credit–” 

“Please stop talking before I take back my compliments.” 

How grouchy. Once more, Bucky felt like a moody cat rather than a superhuman currently kidnapping her. 

“So why am I being hunted?”

“My best guess?” He clicked his tongue. “They think you’re the cause of my disappearance, and they want me back.”

“...That’s a stupid reason…” 

“You can’t expect much reason from them.” 

 Sam finally perked up as they came upon the Raritan Bridge, turning back to the two of them. “Before you keep freaking out, we’re taking you back to the Avengers Compound to protect you.”

“...Ah.” 

That was…certainly news, wasn’t it? Did this count as Citizen’s Arrest? No, no–it was more like Witness Protection. She took a moment to think, then bit her bottom lip as a wave of fear filled her. 

“I…” She whispered. Always a homebody–this was too much, all at once. “My cats…and I have medication and…my roommates– wait.”

HYDRA had seen Quinn. Did they know about the others? Quickly, she yanked her phone from her pocket and began typing furiously before clicking an icon and waiting impatiently. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Tracking my friends–would HYDRA target them? You–you met all of them, and they saw Quinn…”

“Once we get back to the compound, we’ll have those answers for you,” Steve spoke, in an attempt to be reassuring. It only furthered her anxieties. 

Bucky reached over and plucked the phone out of her hands with ease, turning it off with practiced gentleness. She was sure if he didn’t hold back, he’d have crushed it. 

“You might be tapped.”

“...Oh. Okay.” 

This could not get any worse. Silently, she stared out the window, watching the trees and industrial landscapes pass by with tears threatening to spill. 

All she could manage was a choked sob. 

-

“So–like…HYDRA? The Nazi’s?”

Grogginess clouded Lilith’s mind, the remnants of the tranquilizer she’d been injected with fading ever so slowly from her veins. Still, as she stared at the guard in front of her, donned in a tactical suit with a familiar symbol over it’s chest, she could only scoff. 

This was fucking ridiculous.

“We are not Nazi’s. We separated from that regime decades ago,” Came a voice from behind the guard, and the guard sidestepped to make room for him. The new person was average, with reddish-brown hair, and wore a fancy suit that she’d only seen at weddings or fancy occasions–way too overdressed for a concrete cell. He looked older–definitely late 50’s. “We believe that humanity cannot be trusted with their own freedom– not Nazis.”

“That is pretty Nazi to me.” 

“...” The man frowned, a crease forming in his eyebrows. “Wipe her.” 

Immediately, the guards descended on her, and a mouth brace was forced into her mouth. as soon as she attempted to spit it out, a guard held a gun to her head.

“Stay put.” 

She was dragged to another cell, the sound of tactical boots scraping against the concrete floor filling her already whirling mind. It was dark, and she could hardly see a thing as she was thrown unceremoniously onto a shitty excuse for a bed and strapped down. 

Her screams would be drowned out by the noises of machinery, as another victim fell to HYDRA’s sadistic goals.

Chapter Text

The car ride lasted much, much longer than Rosalie would have liked. By the time the car began to pull up to its final destination after five long hours, she felt like she might sob with relief. A pounding headache from the stress tortured her mind–plus the fact that Bucky had taken her phone away and not spoken the entire ride only added to the misery. Sam and Steve provided decent conversation…

But nothing she could really grasp. 

Finally, the car rolled up to a massive facility–surrounded by sprawling mountains and gorgeous treetops, the building itself looked sleek and modern, with a massive ‘A’ on the side to symbolize the Avengers. Some strange aircraft stood on an apparent tarmac next to the building, but Rosalie only got a moment to look at them before they were underground, heading to what she assumed was a parking garage. A large metal door slammed shut behind them–signifying that she was truly locked in. With no way to really back out anyways, she resigned to her fate with a sigh.

The car stopped and idled for a moment before Steve turned it off and stepped out. Sam quickly followed suit, and Bucky seemed to still for a moment before stepping out as well. However, unlike the other two, Bucky made a beeline for Rosalie’s door and nearly threw it off its hinges to open it. 

“Ah–” 

“...” He refused to meet her eye. 

“...Thank you…” She murmured, mustering a slight smile–which he did not see because he was busy staring holes into the floor. It wasn’t as if she minded, though–he’d always had a bit of a staring problem, and she found it endearing. Lifting herself out of the car, she let out a slight groan at the added pressure to the legs that had gone unused for so long. “Ough–”

The three men waited for her to stand up fully before Bucky shut the door and began to walk, lagging slightly behind Steve and Sam but still much too fast for Rosalie to keep up organically. She had to slightly jog just to catch up, and even then she quickly began to falter behind. 

It certainly didn’t help that the facility was fucking massive.  

“Please–” She finally begged. “Please slow down.”

The three stopped, looking at each other briefly, before Sam spoke up. “She’s not a super soldier, man.” 

“Neither are you,” Steve chuckled. 

“That’s different.”

Wordlessly, Bucky approached her, and Rosalie stood in silence as he just…stood there for a moment or two. Then, without any further elaboration, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. A sharp and sudden cry escaped her, hands immediately grasping at the back of his jacket in fear of falling off. His metal arm secured her against him with ease, though–and it only took a second before she relaxed just a bit.

“Dude,” Sam snorted. “You can’t just throw people over your shoulder without warning.” 

“It’s fine,” Bucky scoffed. “Let’s go.”

“I’m fine–” Rosalie squeaked. 

“She’s fine.”

“Ooookay…” Though she couldn’t see the face Sam was making, she could hear the lilt of teasing in his voice, and it made her briefly, just briefly, feel at ease for a moment. Bucky’s warmth was familiar, and she allowed herself to wonder if her warmth, too, was familiar for him.

-

“Well! If it isn’t the famous Rosalie–how’s the view from up there?” 

No one could have prepared her for just how jarring it would be to hear Tony Stark directly addressing her. Honestly, the words she wanted to say just seemed to slip right from her mouth as Bucky stopped walking and set her down–gently and gingerly, as if she’d break. Silently, she thanked him with a smile, and for a moment she felt she could see the ghost of a smile in return. 

“Um–” She cleared her throat. “Hello…”

It wasn’t just Tony Stark in the room–no. The entirety of the Avengers were there–minus the God of Thunder, whose name she couldn’t remember. In fact, she couldn’t remember most of these people’s names. Some of them weren’t even remotely familiar, but it didn’t stop the fact that their stares alone were enough to make her want to die on the spot. 

“We already briefed her on what’s going on,” Steve started. “Before we do the post-mission debrief, I wanna check the map of their movement again.” 

“Go for it,” Stark stepped aside. “In the meantime–” 

“Are you checking the locations of their agents?” Rosalie suddenly spoke up.

“Rude.” 

Her eyes widened as the dawning of realization set in, and quickly, she turned to Tony with wide, apologetic eyes that threatened to spill tears. What was it with her today? She usually wasn’t this pathetic. “Sorry, sir–I just…” 

“She’s got a right to worry,” Bucky interjected. “Steve, pull up that map.”

One of the people who she hadn’t formally met spoke up–a woman, tall and slim, with red hair and a leather skin-tight suit. She was the most intimidating of them all to Rosalie–a beautiful woman. “You mentioned there were more people than her, Barnes. Rosalie, can you tell us more about that?” 

“Ah–!” Her face flushed. A beautiful woman was speaking to her. In her mind, she felt this was the moment she was born for. “My roommates and best friends–all of them met Sol–Bucky when he was living with us–and one of them was present when he was taken back by HYDRA.” 

“Interesting…” She hummed. “You know where your friends are, now?” 

“Not a clue, ma’am.” 

“Please,” She smiled. “Just call me Natasha.”

Rosalie nodded, stepping back a bit–closer to Bucky, closer to a familiar presence. “I asked Mr. Rogers in the car about it, and he said he’d have the answers for me here…”

“Any of these locations look familiar?” Steve called from the table of holograms. Tentatively, Rosalie stepped forward and looked at the map, and the various little dots adorning them. 

“...Bucky…” She murmured. “Can I have my phone back?” 

He stepped forward, handing the device to her slowly. Quickly, she flicked it on and went through the pages, pressing the app icon before beginning to scan over the screen and then the holographic map. 

“Their locations are all turned off…” She mumbled. “But their last locations…they match up…”

“They match up with the locations of the HYDRA agents,” Tony stated, rephrasing what she literally just said. “So HYDRA has your friends.” 

The list of possibilities began to flood her mind, a deep, biting chill taking over her body inch by inch. It was a gradual crawl–one that made her body shiver involuntarily as the horrible anxiety filled her, like a meter about to explode. 

“I’m… I’m gonna be sick–” She gasped, taking a step back. Immediately, a metal hand came into view and snatched her phone again, and this time she didn’t even have the strength to fight it. “I need air–I’m gonna–”

The room felt quiet–too quiet. The sound of her thumping heartbeat overtook any and all noise that could have been in the room, and instead all she heard were the muffled sounds of lips she couldn’t quite read. Fuzzy–fuzzy feelings invaded her head and her senses, heart rate rising–hyperventilating, hyperventilating. Can’tbreathecan’tbreathecan’tbreathecan’t–

The feeling of the cold metal against her hands wasn’t nearly enough to soothe the thrumming heartbeat in her ears, nor was it enough to ground her to reality. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. The teacher was still talking, but she couldn’t hear a word. 

How long had she had her hand raised for? It didn’t matter–finally, she’s turning. 

“Rosalie? Are you okay?” 

And the dam broke, tears spilling from her wide eyes. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes–”

And immediately, she was off, feet thumping against the concrete floor of the compound. She wasn’t sure where she was going–just that she had to leave, get air, find some solace.  

The door behind her slammed shut, and for once, she hoped no one would go after her.

-

Immediately, Bucky turned towards the door, making a move to run after Rosalie–but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He turned, catching the eye of Steve, who shook his head. 

“What do you mean, no?” He hissed. 

The look on his friend’s face was forlorn–a deep, regretful pain sat in his eyes. “You aren’t the one who should go after her, Buck.”

“What…?”

Steve leaned in, muttering so only he could hear. “How well can you handle your own panic attacks? Don’t lie to me– I see those bags under your eyes.”

“...I can handle it–”

“Let someone else handle it,” He frowned. “Trust me. You’ll only make it worse.”

In a way, he knew Steve was right. It didn’t mitigate the pain he felt–both at the realization that he’s right, and at the notion that Steve didn’t trust him. It made sense. 

But seriously. How fucking irritating.

“I’ll go,” Bruce spoke up. “All due respect, I don’t think any of you are suited–except…maybe Sam.”

“Thanks, man,” Sam smiled. 

“Before you go,” Tony started, heading to the door and locking it. “We need a debrief on the mission. Steve? Sam?”

“Right–so…”

Chapter Text

The outside air was cold–biting, even, and much more brutal than down at the shore where she lived. Here, nestled between mountains and the Hudson River, much further north than before, it felt like the icy wind would go right through her. With the sun dipping below the horizon, there was no more warmth to be had in her little corner on a balcony–and yet, Rosalie Ames refused to go inside. 

The cold, at the very least, could remind her to stay grounded. If she hugged herself tightly, she could retain some of the warmth that she needed. Lost in her thoughts, she hardly heard the door swinging open and then closing again, and only when something soft and warm was thrown over her did she look up. 

“Hi there.”

Looking down at her was someone she didn’t recognize–a man with dark, curly hair and framed glasses sitting atop his nose. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, too, and with a huff, he sat next to her on the balcony. 

“Barnes tried coming out here after you, but he’s not very personable.”

“I see…”

A short silence followed–the man clearly was unsure of what to say, but after a second he held out a hand to her. “I’m Bruce. Banner–uhh, you might know me better as Hulk .”

Hulk…green guy. Rosalie nodded, sniffling and reaching out a trembling hand to shake his own. Wordlessly, she let her hand drop and wrapped the blanket tightly around her shoulders. 

“You know–” He started, voice gentle and soft. “Your friends are probably gonna be okay.” 

“...What?” She blinked, lifting her head immediately. “What do you mean? You got–you got a lead already?” 

“Kind’ve?”

Great answer. 

“During the debriefing, Bucky told us that the thing they shot at you with was a tranquilizer dart. It was sticking out of his arm. Makes no sense for them to kill your friends but try to take you alive, right?” 

…This was surprisingly good news. Rosalie sniffled, finally sitting up entirely to face him. Her eyes stung, but blinking did nothing to help. Hopefully they had some eye drops. “Yeah–that…that makes sense…”

“So–” Bruce sighed, placing his hand on her head. “We’ll get ‘em. We’ll save your friends, and you guys will be safe.”

“But how long will that take…?” She whispered. “I have…there are animals back at the house, and…and I have medication that I have to take–and if I lose my job…I just…”

The entire situation was overwhelming. So many things to worry about–their pets, their bills, jobs, families. Would HYDRA target them, too, even if Bucky never met them? 

“I already lost a friend this year…I don’t want to lose any more, Mr. Banner…”

Bruce hummed, perking up a bit. “You lost a friend? What, bad falling out?”

“No. Went missing in Europe.” 

“Oh.”

His curt, almost incredulous reaction forced a giggle out of Rosalie, and she covered her mouth to avoid snorting–the situation wasn’t funny, but his awkwardness was certainly endearing. “His name was Jackson…one of my best friends, honestly. He and my cousin were set to get married this summer, but he went on a work trip to France and never came back…”

His hand, still on top of her head, patted it gently–in an almost fatherly or brotherly way. It comforted her in more ways than one. “Sorry about that, hun. I mean–all of us here, we’ve lost one thing or another. You’re not alone.”

“That’s sweet…” She muttered. “Yeah. I mean–I appreciate it.”

“No one should have to go through that…” He frowned. “I’ll talk to Tony about bringing your pets here. We’ve got the space, and I’m sure he can handle the expenses–so don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I feel really bad–” 

“Don’t,” He cut her off. “Don’t even. Honestly, this is probably the least amount of trouble we’ve been caused by taking someone in.”

Did he mean Bucky…? She smiled a bit at the thought, then sighed softly. It had been awkward since she met him again, like he was a completely different person. Everything, even his demeanor, was different. A harsh howl of wind blew right through her, and she closed her eyes tightly to brace against it. 

“Do you wanna head inside?” Bruce offered. Rosalie nodded, and he stood up, offering a hand which she gladly took and pulled herself up with. As he led her inside, she took another glance out at the Hudson River, and silently thanked its running waters for the company. 

The warmth flooded her senses pleasantly as they closed the door, and it felt as if all the tension in her body collapsed all at once. Bruce had stopped to let her collect her bearings, and with a comforting smile, he beckoned her in the direction she’d come. 

“They should be waiting in the kitchen.”

-

Rosalie had long forgotten the shame that came hand in hand with running out of rooms during panic attacks. All eyes on her, a look of pitying concern crossing their faces, the murmurs of ‘are you okay?’ ‘what happened?’ following the silence of her entrance–at least, that’s how it always went in middle school. In this instance, the only thing that stayed the same were the eyes snapping towards her. 

“Welcome back, Frostbite,” Tony quipped before frowning. “No–that nickname doesn’t really fit. How about Sunny?”

“Tony–” Steve sighed, and Rosalie watched as Bucky’s face flared red, eyebrows furrowing immediately. She snorted, coughing down the saliva as it threatened to choke her. “He told you about that?” 

“He told us about the whole week in detail,” Natasha smirked. “Said he reaaaaally missed having his hair brushed–”

“I did not–”

“Enough,” Steve snapped, though he couldn’t hide the ghost of the amused smile on his face. “Rosalie, are you hungry? You wanna eat something?” 

“I don’t think I could eat…” She frowned. “Sorry.”

“Tony,” Bruce spoke up then gestured to the man. “Come with me–gotta talk to you about something.”

The two men slipped out of the room, leaving Rosalie standing exactly where she was when she first entered–hopelessly awkward, and without a phone to check the time, or anything. She was beginning to suspect Bucky took her phone just so she wouldn’t check it neurotically. 

“We’ll order some pizza,” Sam suddenly spoke, interrupting the silence. “You can have some. You like soda? Garlic knots?”

…Sitting and wallowing in her pity wouldn’t bring her friends back–and she’d only feel worse off the next day. Slowly, she nodded and took a step closer to them. “Pepsi.”

“Coke okay?”

“No. Only pepsi.”

He chuckled, nodding to that and grabbing his phone. “Any toppings?” 

“No.”

Sam nodded once more, then began asking the same questions to the others in the room. Steve wanted pepperoni, and Natasha wanted mushrooms. Bucky refused to answer, claiming he’d just have whatever was left, and then made his way over to Rosalie, handing her back her phone. 

“Buck, show her to her room. We’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell you guys when the pizza gets here.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Yes. Now go.”

Huffing, Bucky turned his back to them and gestured for Rosalie to follow him, in which she did so without protest. There was a lot she wanted to say to him without the prying ears of others around, anyways–even if they were being kicked out, and that made her feel all kinds of bad. 

The walk, for the majority of it, was silent. The facility was large and imposing, and Bucky’s silence was familiar–but finally, she cracked under the pressure and opened her mouth. “So…about that hair brushing…”

Immediately, Bucky groaned and stopped walking, prompting a laugh from Rosalie. He turned to her, glaring in a way clearly meant to be playful–certainly, she was sure, if he meant to be threatening he would be. “Don’t get started. Tony’s just annoying.”

“He seems like a handful…”

“They all are.”

Once more, it went silent. Once more, they continued walking–but words left unsaid hung in the air, and as each step was taken closer to their destination, the tension became more and more palpable. She wanted to break it, wanted to cut through it–but it felt like a wall that she was less than equipped to climb. 

“Bucky–” She finally bit the bullet, internally grimacing at herself for it. Too late to take it back, though, so she steeled her resolve and looked at him. “Why were you on the run from HYDRA?”

He turned to her, slowing down and heaving a heavy sigh. “You really wanna know?”

“...If you don’t wanna tell me–”

“No, I–I owe you. The explanation, that is.”

That sort’ve attitude–that forlorn, regretful and almost self-pitying attitude that Bucky had didn’t feel right. Her memory of him in the week she had him was a curious, confused man with strength he wasn’t sure how to use in ways that didn’t constitute violence. This, though…he looked tired.  

They came upon a door, and Bucky slid it open before stepping to the side to let her in. It was large–with an en-suite bathroom connected to it that looked much fancier than she’d ever experienced, even on trips with her father. Other than that, though? Empty–a simple guest bedroom. Rosalie sat down on the bed, allowing her achy body a rest from the chaos of the day. 

Bucky seemed to linger in the doorway, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other before Rosalie sighed and shifted to the side. “Come sit.”

“I really shouldn’t–”

“Come sit.”

And he did so, sitting on the edge of the bed, not facing her–and he began to talk. World War II, HYDRA and the Winter Soldier program, being an assassin–honestly, it felt like she shouldn’t have been hearing all of that, but if he wanted to say it, she’d let him. How that night, when she’d found him, HYDRA had gone just a bit too long without wiping his mind, and bits and pieces of his morality had begun creeping in. How he ran until he couldn’t, and met her, and nearly broke her wrist– and how for a week, he found peace with her and her friends–more peace than he’d known in decades. 

“I’ll make sure your friends are safe,” He stated with such conviction that it was hard to respond. “It’s my fault–that you’re, y’know, in this mess. I gotta…take care of it.”

“It isn’t.” 

He blinked, turning his head slightly towards her. “Huh?”

“I’m the one that chose to stop and help you–”

“Yeah, never do that again, by the way.”

Why was she being scolded?! She stopped talking, staring incredulously at him–and he stared back. A standstill ensued, before Bucky, incredibly, chuckled. 

“I mean it. Stopping in the dead of night to help a stranger, as a woman, is the stupidest thing–”

“I get it!!!” She cried, throwing her head in her hands. “IknowIknowIknow!!!!!!!”

Bucky’s small chuckles turned into a laugh, only serving to embarrass Rosalie further as he turned fully towards her. That smile–so foreign–fit perfectly like a puzzle on his face. Stupid.

“ As I was saying! I’m the one that stopped to help you, and I chose to take you in, and introduce you, and keep you there. So it isn’t your fault.”

“I feel like you’re giving me too much credit here,” He sighed, still with the ghost of a smile on his face. “I mean–”

“And regardless of that,” She put her hand up, signalling him to shut up. “I don’t regret it.”

“...You’ve gotta be the dumbest–”

“And you are very rude!”

This time, he snorted before leaning over and patting her on the head–a gesture she found most of them to be fond of at this point. “I’ve got a lot to do to repay you, Rosalie.”

She sighed, lifting her hand and swiping his hand off her head. “You don’t–I didn’t help you to gain something. I did it because you needed help.”

“Oh, god. I’ve got two Steve Rogers’ on my hands, now?” 

Ever so slightly, she giggled–and for just a moment, she could pretend nothing else existed; just her and her friend, Bucky, in the world.

Chapter Text

The moments following their conversation were pleasant and warm, as was the pizza that followed. Again, for another moment in time, Rosalie could forget that her friends were in mortal danger and eat, laugh, and pretend that nothing was wrong–even if something was very, very wrong. The night was slept through sporadically–with Rosalie waking up repeatedly in distress before getting tired and sleeping again. By the time morning came, and the friendly A.I. greeted her, she was absolutely exhausted. Dragging herself out of bed, she slipped into some soft slippers provided by Tony, branded with an ‘A’, and shuffled miserably down the hall to the kitchen. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Tony greeted, and immediately a surge of irritation flooded her veins. It reminded her of her mother–the way older people taunted those younger than them for stupid things always upset her.

“Hi.”

A simple, curt response. It was just her and him for the moment, with him sipping coffee and leaning over the counter while she moved around the kitchen rather aimlessly before turning to him. 

“Do you have Reeses Puffs?”

“The cereal?”

She nodded. 

“That’s the only thing you want for breakfast? Not very nutritional, Sunny.”

Was this his plan? To irritate her enough into running? No–no. Sleep deprivation always had such an adverse effect on her psyche. 

“It’s all I can stomach,” She murmured. Wordlessly, Tony nodded and told her where to get it–and so, she did, and she ate her cereal (without any milk) in silence. By the time she finished, another wave of sleepiness rode over her body, and she began to slip into a nap right at the counter–

Before the door opened roughly, and she flinched from the sound of heavy footsteps. Tony looked up at the newcomer and grinned–a look that Rosalie had learned from their brief time together meant he was about to say something taunting. 

“You’re early–did you sense a disturbance in the force, Buck?”

“Don’t call me that,” Came the gruff, annoyed voice of the former Winter Soldier. “Only Steve gets to call me that.”

“Alright–which nickname do you prefer? I can’t call you both Sunny–”

Rosalie couldn’t keep her eyes open by that point, and she slumped forward into a micro-nap onto the granite countertop. Their banter stopped, and Tony chuckled to himself before silently resuming to sip on his coffee. Bucky took a seat next to her, tapping his metal fingers against the counter. 

One by one, each member of the compound trickled into the kitchen. The time between Rosalie’s entrance and the last person’s–Sam–was only about 15 minutes, but she wasn’t awake for that, nor did she wake up until Bucky shook her awake lightly. 

“Whuh–?”

Groggy eyes fell onto a room of superheroes, who all gave their sporadic morning greetings to her one by one, in their own special ways. After their breakfast, Tony called for their attention. 

“So–” He cleared his throat. “Anyone got any pet allergies?”

-

It was decided that Bruce, Steve, Sam, and Bucky would accompany Rosalie to her house to collect her pets and medications, and Tony graciously lended one of his private jets to them to avoid a 10 hour round trip. With the plan set, they got to moving. 

The flight was short–only an hour–but it gave Rosalie enough time to curl up into a chair against the window and nap before they touched down at the small regional airport. After landing, a Stark employee car picked them up and drove them to the house, causing Rosalie to briefly admire just how far Tony’s outreach went. 

Upon arrival to the house, they all stepped out and Rosalie thanked the driver, who parked the car and locked it. Briefly, she began fumbling in her pockets for a key before frowning. 

“I don’t have the key on me.” 

“... What?” Bucky turned slowly to her. “Where is it?”

“In my car.”

“And where is your car?” 

“At my job. The job you guys kidnapped me from.”

Silence fell, and they all glanced back and forth at each other before Bruce looked at the house, then back at Rosalie. “Any alternate way in?”

“The back door might be open–”

“I’ll go check.” 

And he was off, going through the gate and disappearing behind the shrubbery and decorations. Silently, Bucky leaned against the support pillar of the porch, and Steve tried the doorknob and windows. 

“Any chance…we could get my car from my job?” Rosalie frowned. “I can’t really afford a tow–”

“I’ll go get it. You got a spare key?”

“In the house.”

“...Okay.”

All of a sudden, a loud thump sounded from the backyard, and a rageful, deep cry made its way to their ears. 

“HULK…ALLERGIC TO WITCH HAZEL!!!!”

“Oh no–” Steve’s eyes widened, and he immediately darted towards the backyard. Sam chuckled, trailing after him with Bucky following in suit. Rosalie was the last to move, trying the doorknob one more time before jogging towards the backyard. 

The sight was comical–a fully transformed Hulk, ripping Quinn’s garden apart in a blind allergic rage. Steve ran towards him and attempted to pull him back, but a sudden cry pierced through their vain attempts at stopping him. 

“STOP THAT!”

Their heads snapped towards the back door, where a small woman stood in the doorway. Immediately, Rosalie lit up and ran towards her, hugging her tightly with a squeal. 

“Evelyn!!!!!”

Seeing a familiar face, even if it had been less than a day since she went with the Avengers, was beyond relieving. She felt she would cry with relief, but it was short lived as Hulk cried out in rage again and began smashing more of her patio items. 

“There was someone home the whole time?!” Bucky shouted over the noise of crumbling concrete and enraged cries. Rosalie gave him a look that she hoped could convey her words–’I didn’t know’–and Steve worked on calming down Hulk with frantic words. Sam, standing near the shed, laughed incredulously at the absurdity of the situation. 

“I–” Evelyn sighed, pinching her nose. “Would some tea help?”

-

Sitting on the mushroom chairs at the counter, Hulk stood out like a sore thumb as he sipped contentedly on some herbal tea. Already, he could feel his allergies quelling, and Banner could feel his control regaining bit by bit. 

With a happy sigh, Hulk sipped the tea again and smiled. 

“Hulk…at peace.”

-

Collecting the pets was a chore. Evelyn and Rosalie teamed up to get the cats into their carriers and collect all of their belongings–cleaning and emptying litter boxes and packing them haphazardly into travel suitcases along with their food, bowls, and water fountains. Steve and Bucky teamed up on Lilith’s dog, placing her into the carrier with her toys and then packing her food and bowls into a box. After that, all four of them teamed up on collecting the rodents–Gort, a fat Russian dwarf hamster, and the Ratlings (a group of 4 rats named Frederick, Chicago, Brian, and Fenty), and all of their supplies. Sam returned shortly after everything had been painstakingly packed with Rosalie’s car, and she grabbed some essentials from it before returning to pack her medications. 

Bucky leaned against the bathroom door, glancing around wearily. The area was familiar, but he worried they’d been trailed. Surely, the Stark agent stationed outside would tell them, right? 

“Did you need something?” Rosalie hummed, throwing vitamins and prescriptions into a bag filled with toiletries. 

“Nope,” He stated, then went silent. His habit of staring had certainly gotten worse–at least before, he seemed like a curious stray cat. 

“...Okay,” She hummed, standing up and shoving the bag of toiletries into his arms. “Hold this, please.” 

She shuffled back to her room, grabbing a suitcase from the hallway closet and throwing clothes haphazardly into it without really worrying what she was bringing. Steve approached from the stairwell, murmuring something to Bucky about the time while Rosalie threw all that she could into the bag before grabbing a backpack and throwing in chargers, her headphones, iPad, and laptop. In a smaller backpack, she threw in a large, well-used notepad, an empty one, and a few pens.

“You’re really going all out, huh…” Steve chuckled. “We don’t even know how long you’ll be at the compound and it’s like you’re moving in.”

“I like being prepared. This is the difference between homelessness and a decent career for me,” Rosalie huffed. As she stood up, she once more held out her bags to the two super soldiers. At their perplexed reactions, she frowned. “I need to carry my cat carriers.”

No further protests were made. It was decided that Evelyn would return with them, as Steve found it far too risky to leave her considering her connection to Rosalie and Quint–and so, they all piled into the SUV on the way back to the regional airport. The car ride, for the most part, was silent–save for the distressed yowls from all three of the cats, whom Rosalie tried her best to soothe through cooing and sticking her fingers through the gates of the cage. Upon arrival at the airport, they all got to work in packing the jet up–pets riding in the cabin with the humans. Once all the luggage was packed, and everyone was settled in, the pilot pulled back and began rumbling down the tarmac. 

As the jet stopped at the beginning of the runway, Rosalie stopped talking to her cats to listen to the sounds of the jet–waiting for the rumble of the engines to roar to life, to hear the various systems rev up in preparation for flight. Though, this was only her second time on a private jet–and she still had much to learn about the differences between this and a commercial plane. Her notepad was out–she was ready to jot down what she heard. However, as the seconds ticked on…

The plane did not move. 

There was no rumbling of the engines, and Rosalie perked up as they seemed to dwindle before stopping entirely. She looked towards the others in confusion, sharing a wary look with Evelyn. 

“That’s…weird,” Bruce murmured. “Let me go check on the pilot.”

The small jet shifted a bit as Bruce stood up and headed towards the cockpit, knocking once before entering the small space and closing the door behind him. 

“Does this usually happen…?” Evelyn murmured, chuckling in an attempt to ease the mood. 

“It didn’t happen the first time–”

Once more, Rosalie was interrupted–this time, by the sound of the cabin door opening. Bruce stepped out of the cockpit, looking at Steve with a concerned frown on his face. 

“Someone’s on the runway.” 

“... What?”

Steve made a move to get up, gesturing to Sam and Bucky to stay put with a wave of his hand–and although he scowled, mumbling under his breath, Bucky stayed put. 

“No need to get all worked up, Buckaroo,” Sam hummed, reclining his seat. “Sure it’s just someone else trying to take off.”

“The airport is closed,” Bucky hissed, standing up. “I’m going out there.” 

Now, only Sam, Evelyn, and Rosalie remained in the plane. Sam seemed less than concerned about the sequence of events unfolding, while Evelyn busied her ever anxious mind with tending to the rodents and Ben. Rosalie, on the other hand, was curious. In the modern age of aviation, something like an ATC mishap was rare–especially if the airport was closed. Such a small regional airport would never run into this issue–and if it were to, she was going to write about it.

So, she stood up, and ignoring the hushed scolding of Evelyn, stepped off of the plane and onto the tarmac as well–hiding herself behind the stairs. 

“...You can’t be out here,” Bruce called. “Airport’s closed. You gotta go.”

Standing about 100 feet away from Steve, Bruce, and Bucky was a tall cloaked figure. Donned in all black, his hooded cloak went down to his calves, where underneath were black pants that Rosalie could not tell the detailing on. Covering his face was a black mask, with a strange hourglass symbol painted on to it. Haphazardly, she began to sketch what she saw. It looked like stick figures and chicken scratch.

“Hulk…Bruce Banner…” The person spoke, their voice distorted as if speaking through a voice changer. “And Captain America…Steve Rogers…” 

Slowly, their head craned to stare right at Bucky–or, rather, in the general direction of him. 

“And the Winter Soldier… James Buchanan Barnes…”

Rosalie watched intently as Bucky tensed up, his metal hand instinctively flexing as he seemingly rared up for a fight–like a scared cat puffing up his fur. She tried her best to keep her pen from making too much noise. 

- Uniformed individual on runway

- Knows our names, including Bucky who is not known to the public

“You–”

“I guess we were right,” The person hissed, his head snapping towards Rosalie, who tensed up, her grip on the railing tightening. “But I already knew that.”

Steve stepped forward, placing an arm in front of Bucky to stop him from doing anything. Banner, as well, took a tentative step forward, pushing up his glasses as a strong gust of wind threatened to blow them off of his face. 

“Who—” 

“Are you?” The person said, almost in a sneer. “I knew you’d ask that.”

“Cut the shit and tell us who you are,” Bucky hissed, attempting to step forward before Steve pushed him back. “HYDRA?”

“You’ve lost your edge, Soldat. You’re more like a cop dog than an assassin– wasted potential.”

- Possibly working with HYDRA?

- Predictions

- Knows of Bucky's past

“You didn’t answer our question—” Bucky scowled, shoving Steve’s arm away from him and walking closer, but at that moment, the cloaked figure reached into his pocket and pulled something out, pulling a pin. Immediately, a loud BANG! echoed through the airport, followed by a bright flash of light. Bucky stumbled back, as did Steve and Bruce—and when they regained their sight again, a large drone had swooped in, grabbed the mystery person by the arm, and begun flying away. 

“Figure it out,” He taunted from the air, waving a small device in his hands before another flash lit up in Rosalie’s direction, this time much smaller and accompanied with the sound of a camera shutter. As soon as the picture was taken, the drone zoomed off at imperceptible speeds. 

A short silence followed the aftermath, with Bruce rubbing his eyes in irritation while Steve and Bucky surveyed the area for any more intruders. Finally, they turned around, catching sight of Rosalie. 

“What the hell are you doing outside?!”

-

The flight back was quiet—awkwardly so. Even Sam’s quippy remarks gained no chuckle, hum, or snort from any of the four—aside from Evelyn. Bucky busied himself with staring out the window, while Bruce talked quietly on the phone with someone else. Steve, on the other hand, rapidly clicked around on his phone until they touched down. 

No words were further exchanged the entire ride back to the compound—though everyone was on edge. And as the car rolled into the underground garage, once more, Rosalie felt an unprecedented amount of relief flood through her body. Her notepad and pen had been safely tucked back away into her bag. She wasn't sure what she'd do with what she wrote down.

There was a lot to think about, to worry about, to panic about—but for now, she could relax in safety again, and place her care back into the yowling cats under her arms.

Chapter Text

The next several days were spent combing over any intel they could gather–or, rather, the Avengers were. Being civilians, Rosalie and Evelyn were not included in the information gathering, though Evelyn tried to do her own sleuthing–unfortunately, her focus was on programming and cybersecurity, not intel gathering. Rosalie’s notes, while somewhat useful in retention of the events, otherwise did not do much for them.

Honestly, the days started to bleed together the longer Rosalie sat there. Sharkie and Rascal were settling into their new room nicely, tearing up whatever they could get their claws onto–and when they were allowed roam of the facility, they took it upon themselves to cause as much trouble for the Avengers as possible. Them, combined with Ben and Danger, had Tony Stark tearing his hair out over the additional headaches. 

Of course, when she wasn’t tending to her cats, Rosalie attempted to explore as much of the facility as possible–finding an armory, the entrance to a hangar (which, of course, she was not allowed into), and the med bay. The fact they even had one surprised her, though it really shouldn’t have–and it also reminded her that she had several doctor’s appointments coming up. 

“We can do those checkups here,” Tony stated, not glancing away from the strange machines that he tinkered with. “Not safe for you to go– especially after that airport incident.”

Hesitantly, Rosalie nodded while swaying back and forth on her feet. “Okay–but…like–it’s bloodwork, and they need to make sure my lupus isn’t acting up–”

“Lupus?” He finally glanced at her, but only for a moment. “That explains why a 29 year old is seeing a doctor meant for the elderly.”

“Yes, I know,” She gritted her teeth. Consistently since she was 20, she’d been the youngest person in that waiting room. 

“So what’s the bloodwork for?”

“The medication I take for lupus lowers my white blood cell count. It’s just to monitor my levels.”

Tony hummed, standing up and stretching with a pop. “FRIDAY, you get that?”

“Yes, sir.”

The A.I. always freaked Rosalie out. 

-

Dinnertime came and went with no real developments, aside from Evelyn getting to tell Tony and Bruce about her field of study–she was currently going for her masters in computer science. 

“Impress me and maybe I’ll give you an internship,” Tony had joked, patting her on the back which caused her to flinch and then laugh nervously–an anxious habit she had yet to break out of. 

“No promises, Mr. Stark–”

And it went on as usual. Rosalie wasn’t sure where exactly she fit in this place–though Bucky did sit next to her while they ate, he didn’t provide conversation, nor did she. Honestly, she was entirely unsure of her standing with him–and with the Avengers, in general. Did they constitute as friends? Did he look back fondly on that week? There were so many questions she had, but she wasn’t sure if she even had the right to ask, and she was never the type to initiate those types of conversations without knowing what the other person thought of her. And Bucky? 

Well…she’d had easier times reading her brother’s chicken scratch handwriting than his emotions. 

Always so cold–eyes distant, like he was constantly somewhere else. He’d speak when Sam or Steve said something to him, but never once did he willingly initiate conversation with someone else, and although they’d spent time together, talked together, had what felt like a brief heart-to-heart on her first night at the compound…

There was a wall between them, and constantly, she had to stop herself to ask; ‘am I even allowed to climb it?’ And every single time, she’d come to the same conclusion; no. As much as she wanted to be a part of that tiny world he’d secluded himself to, things were different now–and she had no right to intrude. 

So, she minded herself–busying herself with her cats and trying to trying to write, whether it be a novel or an article on whatever current situation was happening in the world (it wasn't like any newspapers had picked her up, so she wasn't under pressure, but building a portfolio was important)–but coming up empty-handed every time when the dread of the situation caught up to her. Stress wasn’t good for her–she’d certainly have a flare up. 

But when everyone you love is in danger just by knowing you, how could you possibly relax? 

Laying in bed, all Rosalie could do was mindlessly pet Sharkie as he purred, grabbing at her hand with his little paws to lick at her fingers. It made her chuckle–a habit he’d had since he was a kitten. She’d sleep soon–the clock was close to striking midnight–but for now, laying in the silence was all she could do to keep herself sane. 

Until, once more, the peace of the night would whisk her away.
-

Rosalie was woken up with a start by rapid knocking at her door. She only had a second to react before the door was sliding open, Bucky standing in the doorway–and immediately, Sharkie and Rascal slipped out of the room in between his legs. 

“We found a lead,” He stated quickly. Immediately, Rosalie was up, throwing slippers on before she was even fully conscious of her movements, sleep still plaguing her mind and body. Bucky led her through the compound towards the control room, his footsteps swift as his longer legs carried him a further distance. Exasperatedly, Rosalie groaned. 

“Slow down…!”

And he did, slowing to a pace that allowed him to walk comfortably next to her. Making it to the control room went smoothly after that, and soon they entered–being the last ones there. 

“Morning, Sunny,” Tony hummed, taking a sip of coffee from a mug that read ‘#1 Superhero’. “And thank you for grabbing her, Barnes.”

Bucky grunted, leading Rosalie over to the holographic table where everyone stood around. Immediately, she was rubbing sleep from her eyes and scanning over everything she could, unable to make heads or tails of what she was seeing. 

“You found a lead on my friends?” 

“Sort’ve,” Steve stated, stepping forward. “I managed to get in contact with a SHIELD operative in Paris, and he told us that they were currently trailing HYDRA agents through the city.”

So not exactly a direct lead, but it could help to get there. This was good news! Ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut, Rosalie nodded. “Okay.”

“We’re going to go to the location they sent us–Tony, Buck, Nat, and I. The rest of you will stay here.”

“What?” Sam looked up from the hologram, eyebrows raised. “You’re planning to infiltrate HYDRA with just the four of you?”

“It’s like they’re asking to die,” Bruce sighed. Evelyn sat next to him, clacking on her computer silently before nudging Bruce and muttering to him. Rosalie glanced back and forth between everyone, watching them bicker and make their points before frowning to herself. 

Really, what could she do here?

“This could involve my friends…” She mumbled under her breath. “I want to come.”

“Hm?” Bucky glanced back at her. “What’d you say?” 

“I said I want to come.”

The room went silent, and very suddenly Rosalie felt incredibly stupid. Of course, she was aware of the various limitations she had–no training, low stamina, no experience whatsoever. It had been an impulse that made her say that, but now the spotlight was on her, and she felt utterly stupid.

“Great!” Tony clapped. “What’s your battle experience?”

This was only getting worse for her. 

“...Fortwatch. And Overnite.”

“...Pardon?”

She was going to kill herself after this meeting. 

“But–! I wouldn’t get in the way, I’d just be there to document–!”

“FRIDAY,” Tony called. “Call up the kid.”

“Of course.”

A large hologram popped up against the wall, displaying a ringing video call. It rang for a moment before a teenage boy picked up, seemingly frazzled as he ran into a bathroom stall at what looked like a high school. 

“Mr. Stark?” He asked through the phone. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I got a question–” Tony huffed, sending a pointed glare towards Rosalie who shrunk in on herself. “What exactly are Fortwatch and Overnite?”

The teenager seemed to still for a moment, staring at the camera before chuckling. “Those are…video games, sir.”

“Videogames!” Tony gasped. “What kind of video games?”

“This seems excessive–” Natasha frowned. 

“Fortwatch is a battle royale, and Overnite is a team-based hero shooter. What is this about?”

“Thanks, see you later, byeeeee!”  

And the call hung up. All at once, the room turned back towards Rosalie, who was seriously considering the various methods of killing herself. 

“You’re not coming.” 

“I–!”

“Zip!” Tony hissed, holding his palm up to her. “Zip it. We’re just going to scope the place out, and we’ll be back literally by tomorrow. PLUS, we do NOT need a journalist to document classified missions!””

There was no more protest to be had, and Rosalie felt she’d already thoroughly embarrassed herself enough for one day–so, she let herself fade into the background, shifting from Bucky’s side over to the far end of the room, and when they dismissed those who weren’t involved in the mission, she was the first to leave. 

They left later that day, around noon, for France. Rosalie watched from her window as their private jet took off from the compound and disappeared into the distance, and tried, once more, to busy herself to not think about everything that had happened today– especially that humiliating interaction with Tony. Still, she couldn’t help herself from pacing anxiously. 

A knock would interrupt her, and the door slid open once more without her even welcoming the other person inside. She had no time to react as Evelyn stepped in, smiling lightly at her to ease some of the tension. 

“Really? Fortwatch and Overnite?”

“Stop it!” Rosalie hissed, turning her face away as her cheeks heated up. “It was impulsive!” 

That pulled a laugh from Evelyn, who sat on the bed and stretched her limbs, cracking her knuckles. “I could tell you wanted to die.”

“I still do.”

Going quiet, Rosalie fiddled with her fingers nervously, picking away at the skin on her thumbs until it went red–causing Evelyn to swat at her hands. 

“Stop it.”

“You’re just like Quint, seriously…”

“We are engaged.”

She couldn’t even bring herself to smile at that–the wedding had been an exciting topic in the last few months, but now she didn’t want to think about it; about Quint, their friends, and her own helplessness to it all. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Evelyn hummed, patting her back. “You’d probably get hurt. It’s for the best.” 

“I know, but–” She sighed, closing her eyes tightly. “Even you– you’re great. Already working with Banner and Stark on god knows what– ”

“Programming.”

“And I’m just sitting here. I want to contribute, too.”

Silence fell once more, Evelyn seeming unsure on what to say before she stood up. “You’ll get your chance–c’mon. Sam ordered pizza.” 

“Again?”

“Again.”

And so she returned to the kitchen, munching on pizza with Sam, Evelyn, and Bruce–and trying to drown out her own dread with pizza grease and soda. She knew, as soon as the others returned, this peace would end. 

But for now, it was them and their pizza versus the world.

Chapter Text

The mission came and went, and true to their word, the group returned the following day with more information, and upon their return, they began planning an infiltration mission to the HYDRA base. 

“The masked figure,” Bucky told Rosalie over an evening bowl of instant noodles. “They were calling him ‘Grandmaître.’”

“Is that French?” She asked, trying to wrack her brain for any semblance of a memory from high school French class. Bucky nodded. 

“Grandmaster.”

“...” She snorted, beginning to cough violently as a noodle got caught in her throat. Bucky’s eyes widened and he quickly brought his hand up, patting her back gently. “Gr–Grandmaster?! Like the–the Chess term?!”

“That’s what that is…” He murmured thoughtfully. “I guess so.”

“That’s ridiculous–hey, how many languages do you know, anyways? When Quinn gave you books, you never looked like you could read them…”

And the night went on. Two days passed and it was 4pm–near time for the Avengers to depart on their infiltration mission. Only Bruce was staying behind, much to Evelyn’s joy as she got to continue to work with him. 

Watching them load equipment into a strange military-looking aircraft, Rosalie once more thought to herself; ‘what can I do?’ Was she to, again, leave the fate of her friend’s in strangers hands? Make them do everything for her, while she lazed around? It didn’t sit right with her–not at all. And so, an irrational decision was made. 

“Evelyn,” She stated, approaching her friend who worked dutifully on the computer given to her by Bruce. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m going to Paris.”

“...” Slowly, she craned her neck to stare at Rosalie. “Are you stupid?”

“Might be.”

“Right…” She frowned. “They’re going to catch you, you know.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Rosalie sighed, then leaned forward. “Please disable the security cameras for a minute–”

“HOW do you expect me to– ohmygod,” Evelyn groaned, throwing her face into her hands. “I can do that– but why should I?! Your death will be on my hands!”

“I won’t die!! I’m just gonna write what I see of the base–this stuff could be useful later!"

Some more back and forth later, and Evelyn finally, begrudgingly agreed to it, only on the terms that Rosalie stay out of harm's way and watch from a distance. And Rosalie was off, waiting for them to leave the hangar to make final preparations before sneaking on board and finding herself a cozy little hiding spot in between some large, conveniently placed boxes. It took another 20 minutes before she heard them return and prepare for takeoff, and then the plane began to move. 

This was, by far, the stupidest idea she’d ever had. Still, by the grace of God and the need for plot progression, she’d successfully made it onto the ship–now, to stay completely silent for the next six hours. 

-

When the jet landed, Rosalie waited until everyone had disembarked to get off, herself. It was late–4:00am when they landed, but Rosalie was as awake as ever as she rose from behind the boxes, stretching a bit before beginning to leave. Her well-used notepad and pen clutched tightly in her hand, she was ready.

Right before stepping off, her eyes caught sight of a rack of guns–and without thinking, she grabbed a pistol and a magazine, figuring out how to load it easily before running off of the ship. She already knew where she was going–after all, they’d spent most of the flight debriefing. 

The Eiffel Tower. This would mark the second time she’d see it in her life–she just hoped it’d be as grand as the last. 

-

It had taken a bit of time, but the Eiffel Tower was one landmark that was impossible to miss. The real trouble began when trying to actually get in, which she figured out only after sneakily trailing the Avengers and watching them enter through some secret tunnel in the riverbank, waiting about 10 minutes until she entered as well.

- Hidden under Eiffel Tower

When she entered, it was dark–cold. Freezing, even, and her jacket didn’t do anything to hide against it. Her footsteps echoed against the concrete walls and corridors, and every sound made her jump from her skin. 

Best case scenario, the Avengers found her. Worst case? 

She didn’t want to think about it. This was an awful decision. Would it be wrong to back out? Her heart hammering, Rosalie stepped further into the matrix of hallways and winding tunnels, peering into empty rooms in the pursuit of locating someone– anyone.

Though…what would she even say if she did run into a HYDRA agent? Would her gun outdo whatever fancy gadgets they had? She listened, listened, listened–

But no sound was heard other than the thrumming of her heart. 

‘This is dumb,’ She admonished herself in her head. Leaving it to the professionals would be best–she could just go back to the ship and wait for them to return. But what if they don’t? They die in the pursuit of your friends. How cruel. How selfish. How cowardly of you to turn around.  

A war raged on in her mind. This was not the time for that, though–and slowly but steadily, she turned around–

And went thump right into a person. 

Immediately, she gasped, grabbing at her gun frantically, shoving her notepad and pen into her inside pocket, while letting her eyes adjust to the figure–a black cloak, but…

The mask was off. And what she saw–

“... Jackson…?”

Immediately, the Grandmaster grabbed her shoulders, a frantic and horrified look on his face. Terror flooded his eyes, blue–just like they always were–tears streaming down his face. His blonde, curly hair was dishevelled beyond what she’d ever seen before, and quickly he pulled her into a tight hug, grip unrelenting. 

“Rosalie!” He cried, body trembling. “Rosalie…I–!”

“You’re here–!” She gasped, grabbing at his cloak. “Ohmygod, you’re–you’re alive! You’re–!”

“I was so scared…!” He sniffled, hiding his face in her shoulder. “Oh…Rosalie–thank you–! Thank you for coming–I–”

Was this…really the same person from the airport? This felt…different. He felt different. He felt like Jackson–there’s no way–surely, there were more, right? 

“It’s okay–” She whispered. “We need to get you out of here–I can–I can bring you back to the compound, and–”

Quickly, he nodded and grabbed her wrist, beginning to drag her in the direction of the exit–and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax. This was Jackson. Her missing friend, finally back–

But it was short-lived. Within seconds of her letting her guard down, he had pulled her into a room–and as soon as he did, something crackled against her neck, causing her body to immediately freeze up and collapse as all of her muscles tensed, constricting from the electricity. Her gun, which had never left her hand, was promptly stomped out by the heavy boots of an armed soldier–sliding across the floor as her hand flattened under the boot. Immediately, she cried out in pain, trying to wretch her hand away to no avail. A heavy weight was pressed against her back–a combat boot. She was being pinned to the floor by one singular boot. 

Jackson– was it really him? –kneeled down in front of her, demeanor completely different. His eyes were cold, a borderline taunting look in his eyes as he tilted his head, staring at her blankly. 

“You made it easy,” He stated, venom dripping from his words. “I’d feel bad for you if I could.” 

Grunting, Rosalie gritted her teeth, trying to stand up or push the soldier off of her–but of course, it did nothing. Pain ebbed and flowed through her body in waves, brief moments of respite teasing her for relief. It was agonizing–her neck burnt, her muscles ached, her hand throbbed . But more than ever…

“You’re…”

“Jackson Rye?” He hummed, fake-pouting. 

“Jesus christ, Jackson–” She scowled. “Jesus fucking christ. You’re the Grandmaster?!”

“I really hate that name–”

“Jesus fucking christ…”

“You said that already.”

Her heart ached. The face of her longtime friend was staring at her, taunting her, mocking her for falling into a trap door covered in flowers. The same voice, face, stature…was this really him? Or had HYDRA cloned him? Both options felt equally ridiculous. 

The guard spoke quickly to Jackson in French, and he returned words in Russian. They seemed to understand one another despite the language difference, and Rosalie assumed it was to throw her off just in case she happened to know one of the languages. Of course, she didn’t. 

High school French did not do her well here. 

“It’s pretty likely that you won’t get rescued,” the Grandmaster sneered, standing up. “Since you made the reckless decision to sneak in. Out of everyone, you’re the most predictable.”

She said nothing, wincing as the heavy weight of the boot further pushed down on her back. 

“You’re in pain, right? It’s your own doing.”

Glaring up at him, all she could do was laugh bitterly. “You talk a lot. Just–”

“Like him?” He scoffed. “See? Predictable. ”

A loud BANG! resounded through the corridor outside, followed by several others in rapid succession that all got closer. The Grandmaster’s eyes widened slightly and he took a step back before whipping his head towards the guard. 

“ Что это такое? Иди и посмотри сейчас! ”*

Before the guard could respond, a gunshot went off–and Rosalie felt the weight of the guard slip slightly before completely vanishing, though she dared not to move. Watching the Grandmaster closely, he gritted his teeth before procuring what looked like another flashbomb. As the door swung open behind her, he pulled the pin, causing a bright light to pierce her eyes. She closed them tightly, and when the light vanished and she could see again, he was gone. 

“You fucking idiot,” came a gruff, livid voice behind her that she recognized immediately, and wished she hadn’t. “How did you–?!”

Before she could make a move, she was in the air and being flung over a shoulder with one hand–the other appeared to be holding a gun. 

“Ow–!”

Immediately, they were moving, and Rosalie had no say in the matter. With no fight left in her, she surrendered herself to her fate and hung there limply. 

-

The return to the ship had been less than ceremonious, and Rosalie could only thank the lord that so far, no one had returned yet. Despite the anger radiating from the person carrying her, she was placed down onto a chair gently–like a valuable asset–and he grabbed her hand which definitely felt broken. 

“How did you get here?”

She pointed silently to the boxes towards the rear of the cruiser, unable to meet his piercing blue eyes. 

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it–” She whispered, voice already threatening to crack. 

“You wanna explain it to the others? Or just me? Your choice, Rosalie–”

“ Oh my god!” She cried, finally whipping her teary eyes up to meet his. “Because I can’t just sit around while everyone else does the work for me!”

And he went silent–thinking, his eyes scanning her face as tears streamed down her cheeks, and he sighed. “You know what?”

“...?”

He stood up, walking to the cockpit and grabbing a first aid kit and returning, now sitting at her side and gesturing silently for her hand which she gave. 

“You’re just like Steve.”

Both went quiet, the only sound as he fixed up her hand with some bandages to at least ease some pain before they returned, being her sniffling as she tried to hold herself together. One by one, the others began to trickle back to the ship–and Rosalie watched in silence from the window as the sun rose above the French horizon while Bucky explained her presence to the other’s. 

She tried to hold herself together. 

“Hey,” came a voice from behind her as she sat quietly in class–one of her first days here, and she’d already made a vow to never speak to these people. 

After all, why should she? Surely soon, she’d be able to transfer. 

“I really like your DC hoodie.”

…It couldn’t hurt, right? Turning around slowly, Rosalie made eye contact with the person behind her–a tall, lanky, and dorky looking guy with wide blue eyes and curly blonde hair. 

“...Thanks.”

“Did you see the recent Batman movie?” He grinned. “It was good, but honestly? I don’t think…”

Conversation seemed to flow so naturally with him that Rosalie hadn’t even realized how disruptive they were being to the rest of the class until their teacher cleared her throat, raising her eyebrows at them. Sheepishly, Rosalie apologized and turned around. 

Their friendship was quick. Two quiet and rather shy individuals immediately clicked, a bond forming rather instantaneously as they argued stupidly over which iteration of Batman was the best–their differing opinions never swaying the other side even once. 

She really did try to keep the dam from breaking. 

“You know, I really can’t believe you assumed I’d have to manipulate Jules into dating me,” Jackson laughed over dinner at Applebees, sipping his soda. “What even sparked it?”

“Ugh,” She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t know! I think…I just couldn’t fathom the two of you together after Jason broke her heart.”

Chuckling, he dipped a piece of celery into the wing sauce, biting it with a loud crunch. 

“That’s exactly why we didn’t tell you guys.”

But even the embarrassing memories hurt.

“Dude!! Why did you do that!!” Rosalie laughed into her microphone, monitor lighting up her face in her dark bedroom. Over her headphones, Jackson wheezed, and she watched as his in-game character ran towards her and began to heal her. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” 

In the background, she heard his mother open the door and admonish him for being awake. He quieted down after that, but never enough to really make a difference. 

And quietly as she could, Rosalie began to weep. She watched as the skyline of Paris faded as the jet moved, faster than any vehicle she’d ever been on, and she wept. 

Because somewhere down there, her friend was waiting– she was sure of it.

Dexter Reference

Chapter Text

“I wanna know what the hell you were thinking, Ames.”

Flinching in her seat, Rosalie stared hard at the ground as Tony admonished her–the lack of a nickname was unsettling; it just meant his anger was all the more real. 

“You’re lucky a broken hand is all you got away with–” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So please– indulge me. What the hell were you thinking?”

The compound was rife with tension, a palpable silence consuming the air as everyone stood around the table, shifting between glancing at each other and staring at Rosalie. An interrogation–even Evelyn couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“I–” She took a shuddering breath, then continued. “I wanted to be of help…I figured that writing down everything I could about the base might be useful in the future…”

Groaning, Tony sat down in front of her, putting his head in his hands for a moment. “You gotta give me more than that.”

“Tony–” Bruce frowned.

“No, no–” He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t interrupt.”

Rosalie’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she tried desperately to push back the tears that came with being scolded. Much like a child–she could never handle the ire of other’s, even if this, of course, was self inflicted. 

“Everyone here has a role,” She muttered softly. “Evelyn, too–is doing something. It’s not fair for me to get to sit back while everyone else does the work.”

“Do you see, now? I told you–” Bucky started, going quiet then scowling when Tony put his hand up. 

“Cool, cool–so you’ve got a savior complex.”

“That is rich coming from an Avenger.”

“Look–I get it,” Tony huffed. “No, I don’t. You have the opportunity to sit back, relax, and let the professionals handle it–and you dive headfirst into danger anyways–”

“Again, very rich coming from you.”

“Point taken!” 

“It’s not like it was a total waste!” She hissed. “The Grandmaster–his real identity… that’s my friend! Jackson Rye–Bruce, the one I told you about–”

“The one who went missing in Paris…right?”

She nodded. “Every single person that I love is in or could be in mortal danger just by knowing me. So, you know what? Forgive me for making a few stupid, life threatening decisions. I know every single one of us here manages to stay completely calm under duress.”

Steve, finally, broke his silence with a huff, crossing his arms and leaning against the table. “Look–I sympathize with you. I do–but you can’t run headfirst into danger–”

“With all due respect, Rogers,” Natasha spoke up, grinning slightly. “You’re one to talk. Running headfirst into danger is kind’ve your thing.”

“You tried to forge your way into the army several different times in the 40’s,” Bucky huffed, smirking a bit. “And you went completely alone into a HYDRA base to rescue me.”

“Okay–” Steve frowned, the tips of his ears reddening. “Okay–point taken.”

“How did F.R.I.D.A.Y. not detect her sneaking onto the ship, anyways…?” Bruce muttered. Tentatively, Evelyn raised her hand. 

“I disabled her.”

And slowly, all of the heads in the room turned to Evelyn. 

“What?”

“Only for a minute–” She squeaked, eyes widening. “I–”

“I asked her to,” Rosalie spoke up. 

Tony and Bruce glanced at each other, a mixture of anger and astonishment mixing in their eyes. Tony looked like he wanted to say something, but the words died on his tongue—so Bruce picked up for him. 

“We’ll talk about this later.” 

Quietly, she nodded—and Rosalie frowned. “It’s not her fault–”

“She’s an adult!” Tony hissed. “She’s capable of making decisions on her own, and she made that decision– you know what? ”

“Lalalalalala not listening!” 

“Are you 8?!”

Natasha could only chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation–it felt like a bickering fight one would have with their family–Tony, the exasperated father, for once. 

“Listen to me!” Rosalie finally stood up. “My friend is there– my best friend is in Paris right now, mind controlled by a bunch of fucking Nazis! I’m going on those missions, one way or another! Whether it’s to document or to fight, I am going!”

“Oh she’s stupid–” Tony sighed, dropping his hands to his side. “Fine! Then you know what?”

“I’m not stupid–!”

“Barnes!”

Jolting, Bucky looked up from the fingernails he’d been mindlessly picking at, eyebrows raised. “What.”

“Train her on firearms.”

“What?”

Rosalie immediately turned to him, a wide grin crossing her face. Finally, a chance! And when their eyes met–the tension in his body seemed to soothe. So, with a groan, he dipped his head back. 

“Fine.”

-

Firearm training with Bucky, much to Rosalie’s dismay, included more than firearms training. At first, it was simple things–stamina training by putting her on a treadmill, or strengthening her core with pushups. For Rosalie, ever unathletic, this was torture on it’s own–and more often than not, she’d end up on the floor gasping in gulps of air. 

“Come on,” Bucky sighed, kneeling next to her. “You were on the treadmill for less than 5 minutes.”

“And I’m already feeling dizzy–”

She knew she wouldn’t see progress for a good few weeks–still recovering from an injury, there wasn’t much she could do aside from stamina training. Her dominant hand was still in a cast, and so, Bucky worked on training her with her non-dominant hand when they weren’t doing physical exercises. 

“I am in awe.”

Laying splayed out on the matted floor, Rosalie stared up at the ceiling, blood dribbling from her nose. 

“I didn’t expect the recoil to make it fly out of my hand.”

“Were you even holding it?”

“...Probably not well enough.”

It took nearly a month for anything to get easier–and an extra week for her hand to be removed from the cast. 

“You’re holding it completely wrong,” Bucky sighed, gently grabbing Rosalie’s hands and repositioning them on the gun. “There–now try firing.”

Gripping the pistol tightly, Rosalie let her trigger finger slowly pull back–until a deafening BOOM! hit her ears and a small cloud of smoke trailed from the barrel. It had taken nearly a week for her to not flinch from the noise, and now, her steady eyes stared at the test dummy–which had a bullet in the shoulder. 

“Yes!!!” She cheered, dropping the gun and jumping up with joy. “I hit this time!!”

Smiling slightly, Bucky placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, picking up the gun and holding it out to her. 

“We’ll work on your aim tomorrow.”

In only a month and a half, Rosalie truly, genuinely felt like she had a fighting chance–and it certainly helped boost her morale whenever Bucky would flash a grin at her, or praise her in some way. 

“Time!” Bucky called, clicking the timer on his stopwatch as Rosalie slowed her jog to a stop, pressing the button to turn off the treadmill when fully stopped. Sweat dripped down her forehead and neck, bangs sticking to her head–yet miraculously, she had more energy. “You made 10 minutes without stopping for a break, Rosie.”

“That was 10 minutes…?” She muttered, panting gently as she took slow sips from her water bottle. “It felt shorter…”

Grinning, he stood up and made his way over to her, throwing a towel over her head then placing his metal hand on top of it, patting lightly. 

“That’s good–that’s a good sign.”

It had been years since she’d been able to run like that, move like that, and this was so much progress in such a short amount of time that Rosalie wondered if this would even be possible without Bucky’s guidance. 

A month and a half–tomorrow would be the pre-mission briefing for their return to Paris. For now, Rosalie tucked herself into bed with a smile, cooing as Sharkie curled himself into her and Rascal pushed himself under the plush covers. Tonight, the anxiety wasn’t as overwhelming as previous nights. 

Because now, at least, she had a fighting chance.

Chapter Text

With the dawn of a new day came the excitement of a mission, sharp knocking rousing Rosalie from her sleep. There was only one person who could have that knock–she knew it for a fact. Everyone had distinctive mannerisms–Steve’s knocks were firm, Tony’s were brutish, Bruce’s were gentle, Natasha’s were light and nearly silent, Sam’s were a good mix of firm and gentle, and Bucky’s were sharp–quick. Much like the footsteps of someone coming downstairs, she could distinguish them. 

“Hello–?” She still called despite herself. “Ugh…”

The door slid open, and lo-and-behold an incredibly grumpy super soldier stood stationed at her doorway, waiting. Rosalie sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as Bucky entered the room. 

“Get up and get ready,” He said, voice calm in stark contrast to his demeanor. “They want you for a briefing in, like, 15 minutes.”

“Did my alarm not go off…?” She mumbled, yawning. “‘Kay–tell ‘em I’ll be there–”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“...” Her tired eyes met his, and though his conviction confused her, she nodded. “Just–wait outside.”

-

Entering the kitchen together, Bucky departed from Rosalie’s side as she headed over to grab a bowl of cereal. A plate of bacon was forced into her hands, instead, by Steve–and she grumbled about it before wordlessly sitting down and munching on the individual pieces like a rabbit. 

“So,” Tony started, clapping his hands. “Good morning, happy campers. Are we ready for an exciting day in Paris?” 

“We’re going today?”

“Tomorrow.”

“...So why’d you make it sound like it was tod–”

“To start! Barnes–” He gestured to the super soldier, who glanced up from his bowl of fruit. “Give us the report on Sunny’s training.”

“Why is that my nickname, again?”

“She’s pretty properly trained on firearms since her injury healed up,” Bucky started. “Pistols, mainly. Haven’t really gotten around to any other types of guns–”

“Did you train her on melee fighting?” Natasha piped up. “If not, that’s a bit of an issue-'specially if she wants to write stuff down.”

“ I had to train her from the ground up,” He hissed. “She had zero stamina–think pre-serum Steve.”

“Hey!” Steve and Rosalie cried at nearly the exact same time, then glanced at each other. 

“What do you mean, hey?” Bucky scoffed. “I’m not lying. Rosalie, you couldn’t run on the treadmill for two minutes without getting dizzy–and Steve, don’t get me started.”

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” She squeaked, face flushed. “I–wasn’t very athletic since quitting basketball!”

“And when was that?” 

“...6th grade.”

“Okay. Anyways–”

“So she isn’t melee trained,” Sam clicked his tongue. “Buck, you’ve done a good job so far–but melee could be the difference between life and death if it comes down to it. Didn’t she get her hand broken because she had a gun?”

“That’s a good point,” Bruce frowned. “It might be better for her to–”

“I’ll go in as bait.”

The room went silent. She swore she could hear her own blood rushing through her veins with the way no one said a word, and then…

“Are you insane?” Tony hissed. Recently, he felt like a disgruntled father with how often he scolded her. “Bait?!”

“Hold on–” Sam put his hand up. “It’s stupid, but if we work with it, it can work.”

“Oh my god–” Tony whimpered, looking like he was genuinely on the brink of tears with stress. “Okay, fine. Lemme hear it!”

“Um…” Rosalie spoke up, softly. “They’re after me–so…it makes sense that if they see me there, they’ll send out Jackson. If you put a tracker on me and have someone in the chair, I should be fine–”

“I’m going with you,” Bucky cut in sharply. “You’re not going alone.”

“It might not work as well–”

“They’re after you because of me. I’m going with you.”

Knowing better than to argue, Rosalie slowly nodded her head and looked at Tony hopefully for some confirmation. He glanced between the two, eyebrows furrowing more and more ever so slowly. 

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Steve spoke up. “If we track her and Bucky’s by her side, it won’t be as dangerous.”

“You, too…” Tony sighed. “Okay–you’re both getting trackers, and Rosalie–you’re not to leave his side.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

It was settled within the hour, and the meeting continued like normal–with very minimal input from Rosalie and Evelyn. Bruce and Evelyn were planned to sit the mission out, giving their support from the chair as the comms people–the rest of them would go on the mission, Rosalie included. With verbal preparations complete, the only thing left to do was mentally and physically prepare.

For Rosalie, it was back to the training grounds–where Bucky armed her with a knife and told her to defend herself. 

“What?!”

And before she knew it, he was running–faster than she felt her mind could comprehend–right at her. The knife was raised in front of her quickly, but too little too late as Bucky grabbed it with his metal hand and then ripped it away from her, bringing his other clenched fist up to punch–

And then he paused. Of course, Rosalie knew this would happen–he’d never hurt her before, and had given her no reason to fear that he would. Blinking back her shock, she let go of the breath she was holding. 

“...That’s not fair.”

Bucky chuckled and pocketed the knife into a holster. “Yeah–just to make sure you know not to do anything stupid when we get over there.” 

“You’re just reminding me that I’m weak, still?”

“No, I did not say that,” He scoffed. “You’re not weak, but you’re inexperienced.”

“I know.”

“Clearly, with you, knowing isn’t enough to stop you from doing something.”

…Honestly, she couldn’t argue with that–so, the day was spent training her to land a punch, and when that was done, Bucky treated her to some takeout. The smell of teriyaki sauce and steamed vegetables filled her nostrils as she slurped the noodles probably quicker and more desperately than she’d ever slurped any food before. 

“We leave at noon tomorrow,” Bucky started, to which Rosalie nodded. “You need to make sure to actually eat, okay?”

“I do eat.”

“Cereal does not count.”

“Ugh.” 

Waking up early, eating semi-healthy, working out–all of these things were a pipe dream to someone like Rosalie, who thrived off of late nights and junk food and bedrotting. It was a bittersweet feeling–that simple, almost privileged period of time was over, and she was unsure if she could ever get it back. 

The house, her family, going out to Applebees–would she ever see them again? Would she ever see the Bacardi bucket again, or play gacha machines in the local mall until spending guilt kicked in? She didn’t know–but the answer was looking like a no. 

At the very least–this reality wasn’t so bad, either.

Chapter Text

“You’ve got your earpiece working, right?” 

Standing over her, Evelyn fussed over the earpiece that Rosalie had in her hands, making sure it was on and properly connected to the Stark network–glancing between the indicators on it and the laptop that displayed that information. Then, she raised it up to Rosalie’s ear and clicked a button. 

“Did you hear that?” 

The loud, high-pitched beep did not go unnoticed by Rosalie–it was, of course, right in her ear. So she nodded and took the earpiece, turning it off to preserve its battery. All around them, she tiredly watched various compound employees making last minute preparations–filling the jet with fuel, packing it with food and drinks–she even watched Happy Hogan walk back and forth with a clipboard, calling things out before checking them off on what she assumed was a list of the things they’d need. The time ticked closer and closer to noon–the pit in her stomach opened deeper and deeper.

All night, she’d barely slept. A lot of pacing and overthinking, trying to hype herself up to come face to face with what remained of her friend–if he could be saved, if he was still in there. Could she handle him taunting her again? Could she handle him talking about memories that weren’t truly his? By the time 8am rolled around and she had to start preparing to get ready, she’d slept a total of two hours. 

Hopefully, she’d get some sleep on the ride to Paris. 

And finally, noon rolled around–it was time to depart. Rosalie got settled in after listening to one more briefing from Tony and Steve, curling into a ball in her spot and closing her eyes–her heart thrumming in her ears as various thoughts swirled in her head. Even the hum of the engines wasn’t enough to fill her thoughts–only more anxieties and stressors as she slipped in and out of a dreamless sleep.

-

Rosalie nearly didn’t wake up for the entire flight–save for a trip to the bathroom, but otherwise she remained dead asleep for the entire duration. Once they’d touched down in Paris and the plane had completely stilled, it took Bucky nudging her awake before she grumbled and allowed herself to rise. 

“You enjoy your nap, Sunny?” Tony asked from the back of the jet, getting some equipment together. “It’s midnight–French time, of course.”

All around her, she watched through sleepy eyes as everyone prepared, donning their gear and muttering to themselves about game plans. Natasha and Tony would go in together on one end of the facility, Steve and Sam would take the other. That left Rosalie and Bucky– the bait –to infiltrate from the same location she’d entered the first time. They’d have to go in, first–and Rosalie watched as Bucky fitted various weapons into holsters adorning his body, much like when they’d first met–but something distinctly him, rather than a brainwashed soldier. 

“Yeah…” She mumbled in response to Tony, standing up and stretching. “Where’s my…here it is…”

She pressed the button of the earpiece, turning it on and fitting it comfortably into her ear–immediately, the sounds of communications filled her senses, and she could hear Evelyn and Bruce from the other side of the line conversing with the rest of the team. She began her own preparations, grabbing a single pistol and the ammo she’d need for it–Bucky had told her that anything she couldn’t use, like a knife, would be more of a liability in case it were turned against her. 

“Barnes, Ames–you two almost ready?” Tony asked through the headpiece. She looked at him, two feet away, and nodded. “Then get to moving–we won’t be far behind you.”

-

Their arrival at the HYDRA base went much differently than expected–rather than arriving to a closed off entrance at the tunnel, the door was wide open–and inside the HYDRA base, alarms blared and guards ran around like headless chickens, listening to orders Rosalie couldn’t quite understand. The noise and the chaos was overwhelming her already anxious mind, and she took a step backwards into Bucky, who steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. A silent look was exchanged between the two– You okay? Yeah.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Steve asked through the comms. Rosalie shakily moved to respond, but Bucky grabbed her wrist and shook his head. “Buck? Rosalie?”

He listened for a few more moments, letting an announcement play over the intercom system in the base, then turned to Rosalie. “He escaped.”

“... What?”

Suddenly, the chaos of the base made sense–Jackson…no, the Grandmaster, had escaped HYDRA captivity. Bucky, still holding her wrist, pulled her away from the tunnel entrance and along the concrete path that they’d arrived on, trailing the Seine River while Bucky explained the situation to the others. Rosalie followed silently, allowing the words to ebb in and out of her stream of consciousness. It was overwhelming–but at least this time, she could lean on someone else for support. 

“Okay, so he escaped!” Tony sighed through the headset. “New plan? Anyone?”

“We can use the chaos in the base to get some information,” Natasha suggested softly, her voice echoing a bit–Rosalie assumed she’d entered into a larger room. “Getting out now would be a waste–all that jet fuel, huh?”

“Good point,” Sam chimed in. “Steve and I are already at the eastern entrance–doors wide open. Getting in would be easy.”

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, nudging Rosalie a bit closer to his side, which she happily accepted–anything to quell the trembling of her body. Was it from the cold wind brushing past them on the riverbanks, or her anxiety? She couldn’t decipher the reasoning yet. “We’ll go on a citywide manhunt. Seems easy enough.”

“Great idea, Barnes. Why don’t you use a magic little earring to swing around with a yo-yo, instead?”

Rosalie, briefly, felt all of the thoughts swarming her head go silent. Then, she snorted involuntarily. “Did you just make a Miraculous Ladybug reference?”

“I have a toddler. Yes, I did.”

“What?!”

“This isn’t the time,” Bucky hissed, moreso at Tony. “We have to get moving. Rosalie–” He turned to look at her. “Do you have any idea where he would go, right now? Maybe he regained his memory– for real.”

“Food,” She said quickly. “He’d go find food.”

With a nod, they were off. The city was still alive, and Rosalie had to follow Bucky closely as they walked, scanning bars and restaurants that remained open late into the night for a familiar head of blonde hair, or a large cloaked individual. Periodic updates came from the others–but they intended to save the important things for when they all returned safely to the jet. 

Three hours went by–and by then, Rosalie was beginning to lose hope. By 3am, most places were closed aside from some alleyway bars, which both narrowed their search pool but also made it harder to get to. She’d probably walked more in these three hours than she had for the last five years combined, and Bucky was about to call it quits per the requests of the others. 

And then–she saw it. A head of curly blonde hair accompanied by a black cloak, sitting surrounded by empty shot glasses at a dingy night bar. She immediately planted her heels into the ground and grabbed Bucky’s forearm, shaking him a bit before pointing at him quietly. “That’s him!”

“Are you sure?” Bucky whispered, leaning down a bit. “You’re 100% sure.”

She nodded quickly, and Bucky nodded as well. “Are you okay with going in?”

“Huh?”

He faltered for a second, frowning a bit to himself–she could see some turmoil swimming in his mind, as if this scenario was vaguely familiar to him. Did it remind him of when Steve inadvertently gave him his memories back? Did it remind him of having to fight his best friend on an airship just for a chance at freedom? She wanted to see into his mind–to see if their souls were alike, in this moment. 

“I am,” She nodded, slowly. “I have to be.”

Though he hesitated initially, Bucky only nodded silently and wasted no time in slamming the door open, walking right up to Jackson. Rosalie barely had a second to grab his arm again before he slapped his hand on Jackson’s shoulder and yanked his body towards him. Drunkenly, he turned his head slowly and let it dip down. 

“Huh…?”

“The entirety of HYDRA is looking for you,” He hissed lowly. “And you’re piss-drunk at a bar–the whole city is in danger now, you should know this. I don’t care if you are the Grandmaster.”

Suddenly, a masked HYDRA soldier approached the two, stepping slightly in the way of Bucky. “You need to relax–”

Not even sparing a glance at him, Bucky used his thumb to point at the soldier while staring hard at Jackson. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Give it a rest, Jean–” Jackson groaned, lazily rolling his head down and yanking his shoulder from Bucky’s grip. “Ugh…I’m busy. Can’t we do this later?” 

“...” Rosalie could hardly believe her eyes. Was this really happening? And why was a HYDRA soldier here, just…letting this happen? It almost made all of the anxiety she was feeling dissipate as the ridiculousness of the situation set in. “Did the…I’m so confused…” 

“This is Jean,” Jackson sighed, lifting his head to glare at her. “He’s cool. Why the hell are you here? ” 

Her heart sank slightly, the pit from earlier re-opening. “I–”

“He’s…a HYDRA soldier,” Bucky scowled. 

“He’s just chilling.”

She shared a look with Bucky, who then called the bartender over and ordered some water before sitting on the opposite side to Jackson, staring warily at the HYDRA soldier. Then, he gestured to Rosalie vaguely. 

“Um…Jackson–”

“You’re still on that?” He scowled, words slurring. “Agh…he’s gone. Quit it with the–the fucking sentiments–”

“Why are you here?”

She watched as Bucky reached towards a holster, and made no moves to stop him. 

Hiccuping, Jackson let his head hit the bar again. The soldier stood on guard, staring just as hard at Bucky. “To numb it… do you know how fucking painful it is to see the future? Killing my own brain cells…just to have uncertain answers. I can’t even–” He hiccuped again, closing his eyes. “I can’t even use my own powers without… without my head splitting open…! All for the future… future– ahah… I saw up to 20 futures… and in only one of those futures did I manage to avoid being taken by the Avengers…”

She tilted her head a bit, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh…?”

“And in that future…” He mumbled, laughing as he took a sip of the drink in front of him, which Bucky immediately confiscated. “The only reason I escaped you all was through death. In one future, I managed to return to where I needed to be… in a fucking bodybag, as discarded goods.”

The bar had a sudden air of stillness that Rosalie wasn’t quite sure how to deal with. The sudden, drunken confession–was it a cry for help? Or was he so used to his own agony that he didn’t see what was wrong, here? She could see the growing tension between Bucky and the HYDRA soldier, who made no further moves despite Jackson’s continued ramblings. The room felt tense–cold, even; though maybe it was just the exhaustion creeping in. 

“So I thought–hey, one more hurrah!” Jackson laughed, throwing his arms up animatedly. “One last…party. It’s all free! One last night of fun before I’m taken prisoner.”

“So you’ll come with us?” She suddenly asked, and he sighed as the bartender placed the water in front of him. 

“ I won’t fight,” He said. “No point…too much energy…”

The relief was far too short-lived, though, as the soldier swiftly yanked a gun from his waist holster and pointed it at her head. Immediately, her hand went to her own gun, but too slow she was before Bucky was yanking her towards him and into a one-armed embrace, his own weapon aimed at the soldier’s head–and BANG!  

It was over in seconds. The guard slumped against the wall, and she watched from Bucky’s shoulder as the bartender and one other patron took cover below the bar. Her ears rung, her head hurt, her eyes spun from the suddenness of how she was moved and yanked and tossed–

“Never promised he wouldn’t–I…” Jackson hiccuped, laughing slowly as if it were unnatural to his very being. “I tried to warn him–but he insisted…broke us out together for one last drink…”

Gently, Bucky released his grip on Rosalie, doing a one-over to make sure she had no injuries before standing up and slapping a $100 dollar bill on the bar counter. Finally, as she turned around she could see the damage done–a single dead soldier. It was only her second time seeing such a display–and she wasn’t sure she could ever get used to the sight of blood gushing from an open wound. She took a step back, though was unable to find comfort even in her companion as he aimed his attention at the mission.

“So you know what’s gonna happen, here,” Bucky sighed, grabbing Jackson’s shoulder once again. “Let’s go, then.”

“Alreadyyyyyy?” He whined, trying to shake his shoulder away to no avail. “I’m not done!”

“You’re done.”

And unceremoniously, Jackson was dragged away from the bar by Bucky, with Rosalie trailing close behind, still trying to wrap her head around the sequence of events that just occurred.

Dexter Reference

Chapter Text

The door to the medical bay slammed shut behind Rosalie, the tears clinging to the sides of her eyes threatening to stream down her face as her jaw clenched tightly. Behind her, in the room she’d just darted out of, the sounds of shouting and angered profanity filled the otherwise quiet corridor. 

“He’s still not budging?” Evelyn asked softly, approaching with a cup of water which Rosalie gratefully accepted. “It’s been three days. Steve said it took Bucky an hour at most–even after being wiped.”

“I don’t know–” Rosalie sighed shakily, leaning against the wall and letting herself slide down. “I…I don’t know what to do–I don’t want to bring my cousin into this–”

“She might be the only choice–”

“No!” Her voice trembled as it became unable to keep up with the sudden desperation lacing her tone. “No…she’s got enough going on. I can’t make her see him like this…”

Very softly, Evelyn nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, kneeling next to her. “Okay…we’ll figure it out. The doctor’s gonna come back in, so let’s just get some food.”

Rosalie allowed herself to be pulled up, getting on her wobbly two feet and beginning to trudge behind Evelyn. On less than 12 hours of sleep in the last few days, she barely felt like she was alive right now, and every little thing either irritated her or upset her–after all, she was used to needing 12 in a single night . Melatonin didn’t work in quieting her racing thoughts and slowing her rapid heartbeat, the anxiety filling her from head to toe the longer her friend showed no improvements. 

As they entered the kitchen, Bruce stepped forward from the stovetop and handed a cup of tea to Evelyn. She followed the two over to the counter and took a seat, sniffling lightly into her arms. The moon hung high above the sky, painting the room in its soft glow as the rest of the compound slept. 

“Nothing?” 

She quietly shook her head, prompting Bruce to sigh softly and place his mug on the counter. “We’ll figure it out. Tea?”

“No, thank you…” She whispered. She’d never liked tea–tea, coffee, alcohol…all of it was gross in one way or another, whether it was that leafy tang or bitter taste that lingered, her face always scrunched up in disgust no matter how often she tried it, hoping something would change.

“You should get some sleep…” He sighed, leaning over lightly to tap the top of her head. “He’s in good hands, even if it takes a while.”

“...” Would it be worth it to risk trying again? She felt like she was slowly going insane, but maybe it would work after 3 days of sleeplessness–a nice snuggle under the covers with her cats would cure all of her ailments. “I’ll try…”

“Thanks,” He smiled softly. “Head to bed, then. We’ll wake you up if anything changes, okay?”

Nodding, she rose to her feet and shuffled miserably towards her room, the walk littered with the gentle stars adorning the glass corridor. At the very least, it was a pretty sight. Sliding the door open, she barely remembered changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth before crawling quietly into bed, letting the crease in her eyebrows lift as Sharkie curled his body against her chest, purring softly with content. 

She hardly remembered falling asleep.

-

“Are you sure?” Rosalie asked, skipping in front of the group and turning around, pointing emphatically behind her. “The line is super short! I promise it’s really fun!”

“Rosalie…I’m good,” Quint sighed, taking a seat on a bench and stretching. “I’m too tall for that ride.”

“Oh…” She sighed. “Jackson?”

“Uhh…” He seemed to think on it for a moment before placing a hand on his neck, smiling nervously. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon!” 

“I’ll go with you.”

Turning to the source of the voice, Rosalie’s eyes sparkled back to life at the approaching two figures. “You made it back!”

“Yeah,” The woman smiled, handing her bag and sunglasses to the woman next to her. “Can you hold these, babe?”

“Yep,” The other one smiled. “Your phone?”

Rosalie bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly, the summer’s evening breeze blowing gently past her shoulders as she watched her friends take their seats on the spectator benches. Handing her items over to Quint, she stood and stared at her companion eagerly. 

“C’mon–!” She squealed, finally having enough and grabbing the girl’s wrist, pulling her from a kiss. “Kissing later!! Rollercoaster now!”

“How many times have we ridden this, now?” She laughed, stumbling behind her. “It’s not going anywhere!”

“It is! If you don’t hurry up, it’ll get up and run away!”

As they entered the line together, the sounds of whooshing trains and excited screams filled their ears. Rosalie watched as the ride train went soaring up the vertical track, a signature roar accompanying it as it went over the curve before cresting the peak and shooting downwards. Person by person, the line inched upwards, excited and nervous chattering filling her ears. 

“Rosalie!”

She jumped, eyes widening as she came back to the living world and jogged to catch up to her friend in the line. “Sorry!”

“We should go on El Toro after this,” She smiled, nudging her slightly. “If it’s open.”

“It better be,” Rosalie scowled. 

As the line continued to move along, their idle yet comfortable chatter occupied the space between them. Entering the ride’s loading zone, they quickly hopped on the line for the front row and began talking again. 

“How’d things go with that coworker, by the way?” Her companion asked, tilting her head. Rosalie groaned and threw her face in her hands. 

“Awful. He led me on!”

“You want me to kill that guy? What was his name again–Nicholas?”

“Yeah…” She muttered, frowning. “I stopped talking to him at work. Like–why would he think what he did was okay?”

Finally, their turn to board the train arrived, and they shuffled in quickly before buckling themselves in and waiting for the attendant to check their restraints. Conversation dimmed slightly, but didn’t halt for a moment.

“Do you think we’ll get a rollback?”

“I hope so.”

Inching along the track, the train pushed forward before stopping at a set point. Rosalie listened for the clicks and hisses of the hydraulic system gearing up, and braced her hands against the shoulder restraint before deciding to throw them up in the air and grinning. 

“Arms down…head back…hold on!”

A momentary pause ensued before the train began careening down the track, a scream ripping from her throat involuntarily despite the wide, adrenaline-filled grin covering her face. Next to her, a loud laugh erupted from the rushing wind and screaming riders behind them. The world seemed to pause at the top of that ride hill, the train stilling for a moment before it began to roll backwards. Eyes widening, she turned to her companion and grabbed her wrist tightly. 

“It’s happening!!! Ohmygo–!!”

The wind rushed past her head again as they fell backwards, genuine terror mixing with the adrenaline and joy while she closed her eyes and threw her head back, laughing loudly. It took a moment for the train to slow to a stop, the automatic mechanisms at the launch spot kicking into gear immediately. All around them, the sounds of hushed giggling and exasperated, excited whispers filled their ears. She panted softly, heart beating erratically out of her chest, hands still gripping her friends. 

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit!”

And as the gears to re-launch clicked back into place and the gentle breeze once more tickled Rosalie’s cheeks, the blurred face of someone she couldn’t quite recall–

-

“Rosalie!”

Eyes snapping open, Rosalie scrambled to sit up as a familiar figure entered her room with little warning, the glint of sunlight glistening against the familiar metal arm. 

“Wha–?!”

“You slept in.”

“...Oh.”

He leaned against the doorway and sighed, smiling ever so slightly before gesturing with a nod of his head that they needed to get moving. She quickly swung her legs over the side of the bed, ushering Sharkie off of her gently and kicking her slippers on before trailing after him. 

“You slept?” 

“Yeah…” She murmured. “Too much, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it–they can deal with a delay. It’s more important that you slept.”

They entered the kitchen to the sound of murmured discussion–Evelyn and Bruce sat together, talking over tea again while Steve, Tony, and Natasha talked amongst themselves. Sam approached Bucky and slapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“You should just act as her personal alarm from now on, huh?”

“Get out of my face.”

“Rosalie,” Bruce stood and approached her, smiling softly. “You slept?”

“I did…” 

“Great! The doctor just got back with Jackson’s report, so–”

Immediately, her head snapped up, eyes meeting his as they widened. She moved in a flurry, grabbing his arms tightly, letting her nails dig into the fabric of his shirt. “Did he respond?!”

“Ah–” He blinked, before shaking his head slowly. “Nothing.”

Hands dropping, she only nodded quietly before shuffling over to the counter and sitting down. Bucky followed, taking the seat next to her, and one by one, the others convened around the counter in a pseudo-meeting. 

“Any more ideas?” Steve asked. “Is the best course of action to just keep at what we’re doing?”

“That’s the definition of insanity,” Natasha responded. “We need a different plan. Rosalie and Evelyn alone aren’t enough to jog his memory.”

“Didn’t you say that he was engaged to your cousin?” Bruce turned to Rosalie, who immediately bit the inside of her cheeks and nodded. 

“Yeah, but…”

“But what? It’s the best option, at this point–”

“I can’t do that to her…” 

Tony sighed, placing his mug down on the counter and leaning against it slightly, palms face down as he stared at her. “It’s the only option.”

“It isn’t,” She snapped, eyebrows furrowing. “It isn’t the only option. I can’t put her through that, okay? I…I have other options…”

“Like who?”

The room fell quiet as Rosalie thought, her fingers tapping gently against the counter while the thoughts ruminated in her head, over and over again. Each option passed through her mind like a slideshow–not that one, not them, not him, fuck that guy–until a blurry face passed through her memory again–deja vu. 

“I have this friend,” She finally spoke, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Her name is Erin–she’s one of Jackson’s good friends, too.”

“And you think–”

“Other than my cousin, this is the best option.”

Tony shared a glance with Steve, who nodded ever so slowly. “Okay–but if this doesn’t work, we’re using your cousin.”

“Tony–could you say it any nicer?” 

-

The jet touched down on the runway gingerly, slowing to a stop as it rolled up to the compound hangar. Rosalie watched some employees shuffle forwards and put a brake on the tire before signaling to the pilot with a thumbs up. The door pushed open and fell down into a staircase, and Rosalie watched with bated breath as people began descending the staircase. Tony first, then Bruce, and finally…

“Rosalie?”

“Is that an Abovestory backpack? That’s sick,” came a voice from behind her. Turning around, she came face to face with a girl about her height, with scruffy dirty blonde hair framing her face. “We’re in the same class, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah…” She mumbled, a frown falling onto her face instinctively. “You’re…?”

“Erin!” 

She ran forward onto the tarmac, grabbing the girl in a tight hug–her hands trembling as they clung to the back of her shirt. 

“You…” She felt her take a slow, steady breath before returning the hug, her face going into Rosalie’s shoulder. “Everyone’s worried–no one’s heard from you…”

“I’m sorry…” She whispered. “I can’t risk other people knowing–and I’m sorry for dragging you into this…”

“No, no!” Erin gasped, pulling away with her hands on Rosalie’s shoulders. “Don’t apologize. This is important–you trust me enough to let me help?”

“I do.”

“Okay. Um–Mr. Stark explained it on the way here. You said Jackson is here…?”

“Yep,” Tony came up, placing a hand on Rosalie’s shoulder. “So let’s go. Time's a-wastin’.”

With a nod, the two girls let go of each other and followed the two Avengers back into the facility. It only took a moment for someone else to join their side–Evelyn, who greeted Erin with a polite yet wide smile. They approached the med bay quietly, and the door slid open, and a woman in a lab coat stepped out with a frustrated sigh. 

“He’s still resisting. I had to restrain him physically, this time–but he’s weak.”

“Thanks, Cho,” Tony said. “We got it.”

“If I go in there, he’ll curse me out–I think HYDRA programmed him to hate me on instinct.”

“Got it,” Erin nodded. “So I just…go in there and talk to him?”

“Yep,” Tony hummed. “I’ll go in with you, in case he manages to break free and try to hurt you.”

“Thanks…” She muttered. “You think it’ll work?”

“I hope so…”

Chapter Text

“So…you’re Rosalie’s friend, right?”

Sitting on the bus heading towards Trenton, a young Erin leaned over the seat where Jackson sat, hair falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head. 

“Huh?” Jackson’s eyes widened slightly, an earbud being taken out to listen. “What did you say?”

“You’re Rosalie’s friend.”

“You know her?” 

Nodding, she leaned further over the chair before swinging backwards. “Yep–saw you on her instagram. Where is she, by the way?”

“Uhhh…” Jackson frowned slightly, setting his phone down in his lap. “Think she got sent to the psych ward.”

“...Oh, shit.”

The rumbling of the bus filled the awkward silence that permeated between the two, passing scenery and chattering making up for their lack of conversation. It took some time before Erin spoke up again. 

“Don’t know if she told you about me, but I’m Erin. We went to middle school together.”

“Oh–” He blinked, then offered a slight smile. “Jackson. She mentioned you a few times–mostly about the sweatshirt you made.” 

“She still wears it?”

“Yeah. Almost everyday.”

-

“Kingda Ka? Are you sure?” Jackson asked, nervously shifting from one foot to the other as he stared up at the massive rollercoaster. 

Erin, also staring at the massive coaster, beamed back at the group as they approached. Rosalie, Jackson, and another unnamed girl trailed her, Rosalie smiling widely as the afternoon sun hit her face. 

“Yep!” She grinned. “Erin, how many times have we been on it, now?”

“Too many to count.”

“I’m sitting out,” the other girl sighed dismissively, heading over to a bench and plopping down. Rosalie sighed, rolling her eyes slightly before running towards the entrance to the ride. Erin glanced back at Jackson and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Come ooooon…”

“...” He frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced from her, to Rosalie beckoning to them, to the massive roller coaster. Then, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. 

“Fine.”

As the three loaded onto the train, Rosalie sat in front of them and turned back to them to talk as the ride pushed into the launch section. Jackson gripped the restraints tightly, his face white as a sheet, while Erin laughed and offered her hand to hold. Very gingerly, he took it. 

“Arms down…head back…hold on!”

The train roared to life, racing up the hill with a signature roar that Erin knew Rosalie loved so much. It crested the peak, the screams of delight and terror mixing in a symphony and slowing as the train did, as well. 

For a brief moment, it was them on top of the world. 

And then, the train began soaring downwards, their bodies pushed back into the seat with the increased g-forces against them. Down, into a spiral that twisted and then up into an airtime hill. It was over before they knew it–and all Erin registered when the adrenaline started to fade, when the ride finally slowed, was Jackson’s painful grip on her hand. 

“Dude.”

“I am NEVER listening to you two, again!!!”

-

It took longer than Erin had hoped to get through to Jackson, who sat in front of her on a bed in the medical bay. In the room it was just her, Jackson, and Tony–the doctor had stepped out after Jackson threw one too many insults at her. 

Though, as the day bled into night and the sun set, the anger in Jackson’s eyes slowly faded. It took time, but Erin found herself, soon enough, able to hold a stable conversation with him. 

“You said it was called Kingda Ka?”

“Yeah,” Erin smiled rather wistfully. “Tallest coaster in the world for 20 straight years–then they tore it down. Do you remember Green Lantern?”

A frown crossed Jackson’s face, and he grimaced. “I don’t like the way that makes me feel.”

Tony snorted in the corner, and Erin giggled a bit before shifting and pulling out her phone, swiping through a few things before holding out a picture to Jackson. “Look–this is us at Six Flags.”

And the conversation flowed. Before she knew it, it was nearly midnight, and Tony had to pull her out of the room to let both her and Jackson get some rest. As she exited the infirmary, she noticed Rosalie asleep next to the door, a blanket draped over her shoulders, and kneeled down to nudge her shoulder. 

“Rosalie?”

“Huh…?” She murmured, blinking awake rapidly with a slight gasp as she registered Erin in front of her. “Erin?”

“Morning,” Tony called from behind her. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“No–”

“Yes,” came the voice of FRIDAY. “She has been, sir.”

“Alright,” He clicked his tongue. “Let’s get you some food and then get you to bed.”

-

Although Jackson still wasn’t fully recovered, Tony took the improvement with Erin as a sign that he was getting there and let him off of medical arrest–a monitor was placed on his chest that would let FRIDAY know if anything abnormal was happening, whether that be Jackson, himself, trying to run away, or Jackson showing aggression towards anyone. After nearly a week, Jackson and Rosalie were able to stand in the same room without an outburst of aggression. 

“I don’t like you,” He started, voice mellow. “I don’t know why I don’t, but I don’t.”

Standing across from him in the kitchen, Rosalie could only nod slowly, a quiet but shaky exhale leaving her lips. 

“But Erin says we were friends.”

“We were…”

“I feel like I can trust her. So…” He trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing in what looked to be frustration. “I’ll trust you. But it doesn’t mean I like you.”

“...” Finally, a weight felt as if it had been lifted off her shoulders. One that nearly made her crumple to the floor if not for her hold on the counter beside her. So long of sleepless nights, ruminating the cruel things he’d said to her…it wasn’t over, but it was a start, wasn’t it? She could hardly help the smile that crossed her face. “Okay…”

“You look fucking stupid.”

“What?!”

Preparations for the next mission began almost immediately. The intel that the others had gathered from the HYDRA base in Paris told them of another operation that potentially involved her friends–one much riskier and further, but a risk they’d have to take nonetheless. 

“I’m warning you now,” Jackson droned over a plate of soup. “If you fly in that fancy jet of yours, HYDRA will know exactly where you’re going.”

“Oh!” Rosalie gasped, causing an immediate glare from Jackson. “Why don’t we fly out of Newark?”

“Newark?” Erin grimaced, despite knowing she would not be going on the trip. “Why?”

“I like Newark…”

“Get better soon.”

And despite it being a nearly 3 hour drive from their location, Tony opted to have those of them going on the mission fly out of Newark down to São Paulo, Brazil–the only people staying behind would be Bruce, Evelyn, and Erin. Erin, it had been decided, would lend some extra help with the communications since, in her own words, sitting and doing nothing would fucking suck. Even Jackson, who was still a flight risk, would be tagging along to make use of his future seeing abilities. Of course, he’d be kept on a tight leash and would be neutralized if anything happened, according to Tony. 

And so, with the Stark staffing handling packing things like weapons and ammunition and Tony assuring an anxious Rosalie that none of their items would cause an issue for the plane and the TSA would inspect it privately, they were off to the Newark airport. 

“Why Newark specifically, again?” Jackson asked from the backseat of the van they’d all piled into. 

“You remember my dad? He called you JackJack.”

“...” A frown creased over his face, but slowly, he nodded. “Sounds familiar…”

“He works there. I know I won’t get to see him, but I like Newark because of that reason.” 

It would be a long car ride, but with a crew as interesting and lively as the Avengers, the time seemed to go by in an instant–and soon they were approaching the airport, getting ready to disembark on their journey. 

In his seat, Jackson sat silently, a storm brewing in his aching head.

Chapter Text

In a quiet facility, alight only by red hued escape paths and the faint glows of humming machinery, a crash was heard through the sharp, deafening silence. 

“Asset #435213 has escaped containment.”  

All around her, shattered glass and conductive liquid covered the floor, her bare feet stepping carelessly onto the glass–the pain reminded her that she was alive, she’d state to herself with a shivering breath. The red lights blinked and flickered, and her consciousness faded in and out, the blaring alarms serving little purpose in reviving her diluted mental state. 

And then…

“Detain her!”

Fire filled her veins, an insurmountable amount of energy coursing through every inch of her body. It was instant–she hardly had to think about it before her body materialized behind one of the soldiers, grabbing his head in between her hands and eviscerating it with a power she, herself, couldn’t quite grasp. There was no time to think–only act. Move, move, move!  

One by one, each of the guards dropped. Blood covered her from head to toe, coating in the strands of her hair and dyeing what was essentially a closed-back medical gown in a deep crimson. A trembling hand moved to her neck, where a collar dug into her skin. Move, move, move. Don’t stop moving. Don’t–

“Asset located.”

And immediately, she was running with a volt of energy that surged and compelled her legs to move. The winding halls were no match, and although she felt her energy depleting slowly, it didn’t matter. A light at the end of the tunnel was just out of reach. Move, move, move! 

And with a single outstretched hand…

-

“Hey, Soldat?”

In the tranquility of a nearly silent household, the Winter Soldier sat quietly on the plush pink rug, fiddling quietly with a multicolored cube he’d found in Jace’s room across the hall. Slowly, he looked up to the voice that beckoned to him–and was greeted by a warm gaze. 

“Do you like planes?”

He tilted his head. Like? He wasn’t allowed to like. He wasn’t allowed to have his own opinions. The question, lost on him, went unanswered–but she only smiled at him and sat up on her bed. 

“That’s okay–I’ll just have to show you.”

She stood up, and the Winter Soldier followed her with his eyes as she put on some slippers and shuffled across the floor to some shelves, reaching up and taking something off before heading back over to him and sitting on the rug in front of him. 

“Hold your hands out.”

And he did–whether he complied due to his conditioning or because he felt a pull towards her, as if his subconscious was pushing him towards trusting her, he didn’t know. But he did, and she gingerly placed a small, diecast model of sorts in his open palms. 

“A plane.”

It felt vaguely familiar, but also so foreign at the same time. A time that didn’t belong to him, in a life long forgotten–this was something so, so different, and yet he could understand what it was all the same. 

“...” He said nothing, gingerly inspecting the item before glancing around the room again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but it seemed to have multiple of these little diecast models littered about–on shelves, some hung up on the ceiling, and some on her desk and nightstand. His eyes panned back over to her, and he watched as her own sparkled, watching for his reaction–so, slowly, he nodded and gave an affirmative grunt. 

Her eyes sparkled, a wide grin crossing it almost immediately–and he had to fight the strange feeling in his cheeks that threatened to tug his lips upward as well. Immediately, she dropped into a tirade, listing off numbers and words he wasn’t remotely familiar with–but her voice was like a gentle breeze in the wind, and he could sit and listen for hours if the universe would allow it. 

How long was she talking for? He didn’t know, but a knock on the door broke their one-sided conversation as Lilith entered, beckoning them downstairs for dinner. Rosalie nodded and stood up, waiting for the Winter Soldier to stand up. 

As he did, he placed the plane gingerly on the bedside table–as if it were as fragile a flower drifting in the breeze.

-

In a private room overlooking the tarmac of the airport, a loud gasp broke the group’s collective silence. Their eyes snapped over to the window where Rosalie stood, her entire body nearly shoved against the glass. 

“You see something out of the ordinary?” Steve immediately asked, standing up to approach her. Silence followed his query, only further heightening the created tense atmosphere that Rosalie, herself, seemed completely unaware of. “Rosalie?”

…A giggle broke her silence, and her fists curled against the glass. Steve looked out at the tarmac and blinked before nudging her shoulder. 

“Are you–”

“She’s here!!” She squealed with barely contained excitement. “Ohh…she’s so beautiful…”

“Who?” Bucky stood up and approached the two, who now stared out the window together–Steve, moreso trying to grasp her excitement. “What’s wrong?”

“...” Quietly, Jackson stared at the interaction, his eyebrows furrowing. A familiar but unknown feeling filled his chest–this situation, her excitement, felt like déjà vu. That, alone, was more irritating than the woman’s happiness infecting his ears. 

“Are you talking about the big plane?” 

She nodded, turning to the two men with wide, sparkling eyes for only a second before snapping her head back to the tarmac, where a large, quad-engine half-double decker plane taxied along on its way to the runway. She stood, entranced, before clicking her fingertips against the glass again–almost as if the excitement building up was too much for her to handle. Bucky glanced at the plane before nudging Steve to the side and leaning against the glass with her. 

“What is that?”

“It’s a Boeing 747–the Queen of the Skies! ” She beamed in an almost childlike manner before beginning to ramble–on and on, about the plane and the airline utilizing it, about the history of the jet before going off on a separate tangent about the crashes involving the type. Bucky nodded along–in a way reminiscent of a time before; much simpler, but her smile remained the same. 

No one had the heart to interrupt her–not when her passion for the subject bled so clearly into the fabrics.

“How do you know so much about this? Or– I guess why, is the question.”

“Hm?” Her eyebrows raised a bit, as if the question being asked had the most obvious answer in the world. “Aviation is my life. I’m trying to go into journalism for aviation.”

“Then why do you try to make stories of things that aren’t aviation related?” 

“I can’t just enter an insanely specific field right off the bat– I have to go broad, first! I was with a newspaper for a few years, but…”

Her sentence seemed to trail off, her smile dropping as her eyes narrowed at something on the tarmac. 

“...Huh?”

“What, now?” Bucky leaned over, trying to catch sight of what she was seeing. 

“That person isn’t wearing a visibility vest.”

Steve stepped back over, a hand on Bucky’s shoulder out of instinct as he, too, leaned over to see what she was pointing at. “She’s barefoot–and bleeding…?”

“What’s going on?” Natasha stepped forward, Tony and Sam close in tow. “Something we need to be worried about?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably not. Manic episode from a rogue passenger, maybe?”

“Sure, but…” Steve frowned. “She’s wearing a hospital gown.”

“Hell of a manic episode to be having. Pretty sure she’s committing a felony by being out on the tarmac.”

As Jackson, too, stepped forward, his gaze trained hard on the mystery person below them, a vague sense of familiarity filling him–though, no matter how far into the crevices of his mind he searched, he couldn’t find the source. So, he turned to Rosalie. 

“I feel like–”

“That’s Lilith.”

“What?” Natasha turned to her. “Your friend? The one kidnapped by HYDRA?”

“That’s her–” She mumbled, stepping backwards and away from the crowd. “I–”

“Stay right here,” Bucky hissed, reaching for her arm which she quickly reeled back. 

“There’s no time!” She cried and took another step backwards before bolting towards the exit. Immediately, a pursuit followed–but Rosalie’s headstart and the crowds weaving through the airport slowed the chasing superheroes just enough for Rosalie to find the nearest gate and run through it, where they lost sight of her all at once. 

Stopping at the gate entrance in front of a frazzled gate agent, Steve placed a hand in front of Bucky’s chest and let out a deep exhale. Then, he flashed the agent a polite smile and stepped through. 

“Pardon us.”

-

The cold air against her skin felt both refreshing and painful at the same time, bare feet thrumming against the tarmac of a place so hazy yet so familiar. Flashes of memories that HYDRA had failed to steal away from her flickered like a photo album through her mind, and she swayed along with the wind as a dizzying spell of faintness overcame her. 

Time stilled all around her, darkness peering around the edges of her vision and threatening to overcome her–exhaustion, blood loss, and overexertion combined in a toxic cocktail that caused her to collapse to her knees, breathing heavily as her head spun around and around. She was both present and a bystander all at once. The wind blew harshly against her frame, and she struggled to stay afloat amidst the rising tides–

And then, a light cutting through the darkness. 

“LILITH!”

-

Heart thrumming in her ears, Rosalie couldn’t allow herself a moment to reconcile her thoughts–not that she’d just effectively fucked over the entire mission, not that she’d probably committed a crime by blowing past the gate, and definitely not that she was committing a felony by running out onto an active tarmac. No, no–there wasn’t enough time to think about that. 

Not when her friend was collapsed on the concrete, cold and bleeding slowly. 

“LILITH!!”

-

And as she looked up, a familiar face entered her field of vision–someone she hadn’t expected to see again, someone whose name was on the tip of her tongue, floating around with hazy memories and feelings of joy that filled her chest. 

Before she could say anything, warmth enveloped her entire being, and a feeling of gentleness that she hadn’t been given wrapped around her body. Arms, she realized. She’s being hugged.

And all at once, heat coursed through her veins–a dizzying feeling that only continued to intensify the more ███████ held her in her arms. 

Ahhh…she’s gonna be sick…

-

“Lilith…” Rosalie trembled, bracing the both of them tightly against the wind as she held the other close to her. “You’re here– what happened? Do you…”

“I…” She murmured, her eyes going half lidded as a faint blue glow began to spread across her body. “I’m…”

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me–! I’m…I’m here now–! I won’t let them–”

That blue glow grew in brightness, filling up the crevices of her skin and glowing like an LED. Rosalie’s arms slacked around Lilith’s body before letting go entirely, staring at the girl who only stared at her, her eyes widening, tears filling the crevices. 

“I don’t– I don’t know what’s– ”

And then–she was in the air. Rosalie cried out, grabbing tightly onto the body that had swooped in and flew her away, quickly registering it once she got a look at the wings that it was Sam. Clenching her fists, she began hitting his arms weakly. 

His grip was that of steel, though, and only once he had gotten enough distance from Lilith did he release Rosalie slightly, keeping a firm grip on her forearm. 

“Rosalie…” He spoke slowly, his gaze intense. “What you just did…”

“I had her!” She hissed, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “I– why did you grab me and not her?!”

“She was glowing blue–and not to alarm you, but things that glow like that tend to explode.”

Her gaze snapped back towards Lilith, who was staring at her from her spot much closer to the airport–before her eyes widened, a choked cry escaping her before she collapsed all at once, a collar that Rosalie had failed to notice around her neck blinking red. Immediately, Rosalie jolted in a feeble attempt to escape Sam’s grasp, who only yanked her back towards him and pulled her behind a service vehicle, a hand going over her mouth. 

Behind them, the sound of heavy footfalls on the concrete sounded, before a walkie-talkie buzzed to life. “Asset #435213 has been secured.”

Her blood ran cold, eyes widening as she placed a hand over Sam’s–though she wasn’t sure if she was seeking comfort or trying to pry him off of her mouth, but she didn’t move an inch until a voice in her ear, which she quickly noted as Tony, gave an all clear. 

Sam let her go at once, his hand still holding her forearm–but with a much gentler grip than before. She looked back at him with wide eyes, the two sharing a look before she nodded quietly and followed him back to the skywalk stairs and back into the terminal. He bid a quiet apology to the gate agent, who sent Rosalie a pointed glare–she could only stare at the ground as she walked closely behind Sam. 

Once they approached the private room, Rosalie hesitated, stopping at the door. Sam turned back to her with an eyebrow raised, his voice lowering to a whisper. “You okay?”

“...I don’t want to go back in there…” 

Being aware of what she had done wrong was one thing–being okay with being scolded and glared at was another thing. Rosalie could never get used to the persistent feeling of shame that came with it; she’d never been good with criticism. 

Her eyes stared hard at the ground and she willed the tears to stay at bay. Sam only gave her a pat on the head. “They won’t yell. I promise.”

And though she didn’t believe him, she chose to nod and follow him anyway. The door slid open almost robotically, a tension in the air so palpable that she could feel it clinging to her clothes. Only silence greeted her, but she couldn’t bear to even glance up to meet the ire of her companions. 

“HYDRA is operating out of this airport,” Steve broke the silence, turning to Sam with furrowed brows. “Did they see you?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Good. We’re going to have to take a new flight out of a different airport.”

“Kennedy is down the road,” Nat snickered softly, sipping from a wine glass. Tony scoffed, his head rolling towards her. 

“Just a walk away.”

“Tony,” Bruce’s voice came through their earpieces. “The driver will be waiting to pick you up outside of terminal C. Can you be down there in 15 minutes?”

“Yep. We’ve got the little stowaway secured.”

Rosalie said nothing, though flinched when Sam released his grip on her. Quickly, her eyes darted around the room for some solace–an umbrella to shield her from the rain. 

And all at once, her eyes met a pair of familiar blues. She took a step forward, and watched for a visual cue to back off–but none came. So, she took another step forward on shaky legs. One by one, she had to count to keep her mind from straying, until she stood right in front of the former Winter Soldier. 

And slowly, she let her head fall forward onto his chest, and allowed the buildup of tears to silently stream down her face. In the quiet but active private room above terminal C, there was no one else but them. 

And ever so gently, she felt a flesh hand pat the top of her head.

Chapter Text

The flight down to Brazil was uneventful–some minor turbulence and Jackson spilling wine on himself, and they were landing , donning baseball caps and heading to a hotel for the next few nights. Once she could be alone with her thoughts in a room overlooking the streets of São Paulo, Rosalie couldn’t even bring herself to admire the views–she hadn’t gotten any sleep during the flight, and though her body ached and she knew she needed to shower, the only thing she could bring herself to do was change into pajamas and curl up under the hotel blankets. 

From her phone she had laid on the bedside table, she heard a vibration. She groaned and reached over, hand slapping onto the case before she dragged it under the covers with her. 

erose: Hey! How was the flight?

rxsiebxra: it was fine

erose: Tony still giving you problems? 

rxsiebxra: nah, just tired

rxsiebxra: and seeing lilith in that state was like

rxsiebxra: really hard. i guess

erose: Yeah, I can imagine. 

erose: But I don’t think you were wrong for doing what you did. 

erose: You shouldn’t hold yourself to the same standards as trained professionals. 

erose: Plus, all of them have done the same shit. 

rxsiebxra: that’s true lol

rxsiebxra : bucky says i’m just like steve in that regard

rxsiebxra: jackson is doing well, too. he’s rooming with tony

erose: They have you alone?

rxsiebxra: natasha is technically rooming with me, but she hasn’t come into the room yet

erose: Cool. You get to share a bedroom with Black Widow. 

rxsiebxra: do you think there’s an alternate universe where the avengers and hydra aren’t real, and we’re able to live our lives like normal?

erose: Probably, but that wouldn’t be very entertaining. 

erose: Plus, I think you like Bucky way too much to be content in that universe. 

rxsiebxra: typing…

rxsiebxra: it’s not like that. 

erose: Lol. Okay. I’m going to sleep, girl. GN ;)

rxsiebxra: gn………….

Frustrated once more, she placed her phone on the nightstand, before her eyes widened and she grabbed it once more. 

rxsiebxra: WHERE AREMY CATS 

erose: …

erose: typing…

erose: [img. png]

erose: They’re good. Sharkie has been screaming since you left lol.

rxsiebxra: and rascal?

erose: He’s curled up on your bed. [img.png]

rxsiebxra: ty ^_^ goodnight

And finally, she placed her phone down for good on the nightstand, sitting up and watching as the moon rose high above the Brazilian sky–and she let her eyes close for the final time that night, gripping the pillow tightly as sleep overtook her aching body. 

-

“Jace…I have incredibly bad news…” 

Turning to her from his spot at the dinner table, Jace perked up, eyebrows raised as he leaned over to his drink and took a long sip. Rosalie, with a dramatic sigh, leaned against her hand. 

“They’re shutting down the Olive Garden.”

She watched carefully as his face flickered through several different stages of grief and then some–no doubt, his mind inventing new ones previously unknown to man. Then, he buried his face in his hands in silence. 

“You’re kidding.” He whimpered, voice muffled. 

“I’m not. The plaza was bought out.”

“WHAT?!”

His grief was palpable–and truly, she felt it too. She’d spent all day lamenting on it since waking up to that text from Jackson, ranted to her mother, her friends, anyone that would listen. It was beyond ridiculous, and something she still couldn’t wrap her head around. 

“It’s ridiculous!” She cried, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Like–their business is perfectly fine, and there’s two buildings in that plaza! Buying both and evicting both is ridiculous!”

“I KNOW!”

“Not to mention, the only other Olive Garden in a 25 mile radius is in LONG BRANCH. We have to drive on the parkway to get there!!”

“And NEITHER of us want to do THAT.”

“I fall asleep when I drive!! I CAN’T!!”

Their heated, passion-filled ranting quickly filled the space of the table, their friends remaining silent in order to allow them to vent their frustrations–which they did, for over 20 minutes, before Quinn’s irritated voice cut between them. 

“You guys are getting us weird stares.”

-

“Rosie, wake up,” came the soothing voice of the Black Widow, peering over her and nudging the girl from her sleep slowly. She rolled over, the light from the blazing sun hitting her face almost immediately, causing her to groan and roll back over. She gently swatted at the hand that poked her, causing Natasha to chuckle softly and sit on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been asleep for nearly 12 hours, you know.”

“MMnnot long enough…” She whined. 

“Plenty long. C’mon–we’ve got a mission to brief for. Don’t you want some breakfast before that?”

With a few more pokes, Rosalie finally opened her eyes, blinking away the fog from her vision before whining again and sitting up slowly, stretching her back out and wincing softly at the aches that still persisted. 

“...’kay…”

Natasha waited graciously on her own bed, already donned in athletic leggings, jogging shoes, a baseball cap and a tank top covered by a thin sweatshirt. Rosalie took her bag to the bathroom, throwing on sweatpants and a tank top, before cringing slightly at herself in the mirror and peaking out of the bathroom. 

“Um…”

“Hm?”

“Do you have…any other shirts? I know we’re the same size, but I really don’t like my shoulders being exposed…”

“Oh!” She blinked, then smiled sweetly and rummaged through her bag. “Do you want a t-shirt?”

“Yes, please…”

“Here, catch.”

Bundled into a ball, Natasha threw a plain grey t-shirt Rosalie’s way, and she caught it with ease before thanking her softly and rushing back into the bathroom to change. Finally, in attire that much better suited her needs, she shuffled out of the bathroom and threw on some socks and sneakers. 

“Thank you…”

“No problem,” She grinned. “You ready?”

Rosalie nodded, throwing her medication in her mouth and quickly taking a swig of water before rushing to follow Natasha out of the room. The hotel was quiet–and rather than heading down to the lobby, Natasha led her to the rooftop deck, where a small breakfast buffet had been set up. Rosalie glanced around a bit before grabbing some plain bacon and toast and heading back to Natasha’s side. She gave a nod, which was returned with a smile, and the two headed back down to their floor and to another room, which swiftly opened once Natasha knocked only once. 

“Took you long enough,” Sam chuckled from one end of the room, an arm slung over a couch in a large suite that Tony inhabited. The couch had been pulled out, where Jackson sat, grumbling idly to himself and scowling openly when Rosalie entered the room. She only smiled and waved. 

Slow steps.

“She wouldn’t wake up,” Natasha responded, nudging Rosalie who gasped slightly as the unexpected contact hit her. “Whoops–you okay, Sunny?”

“Agh…not you, too…”

“Well, your timing couldn’t have been more perfect, right?” Steve hummed and sent Rosalie a soft smile–clearly, meant to be reassuring. This time, it did something, and she nodded slowly. “Buck doesn’t sleep very well, but when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

“Dude,” Bucky hissed, pushing himself up from the wall. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Why not? It’s true–and it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You need the sleep!”

“Totally off topic,” Tony chimed in. “We aren’t here for leisure, Rogers–as much as I’d love to give my two cents.”

“No one is stopping you, Tony.”

“I am–can we get back on topic? We have to start at least planning this mission.”

Natasha nudged Rosalie softly, leading her over to the small, two-person table over by the window and sitting down across from her as Rosalie began to quietly eat, listening to Tony and Steve go over game plans before pulling up a video feed to the compound. 

The bread was tasteless, and the bacon was far too bland for her liking–and yet, she ate, letting the words of her comrades wash over her, taking in as much as she could. They’d scope out the next base later, and infiltrate tomorrow–easy enough, as long as nothing went wrong. 

As long as Sunny, here, stays out of trouble, Tony had said rather pointedly. 

And, of course, she’d try. She’d follow Bucky quietly, too far from her element to really want to stray after the encounter at Newark. She’d try–but no promises could be made. 

After all, when love itself oozed out of every orifice of her body, how could she stay still upon seeing the pain of another loved one? Would Jace be the same as Jackson? Or entirely different? They had to prepare for anything– she had to prepare for everything.

Because leaving Brazil without Jace was not an option.

Chapter Text

In a helicopter circling the metropolitan area of São Paulo, a HYDRA soldier unravels a ticking time bomb, shaking him awake from his forced slumber approximately 1,000 feet in the air. He spoke to him harshly through a filtered mask, his voice coming out grainy and distorted–nearly silent against the helicopter’s blades, but the time bomb heard it all the same. 

“Готовы подчиниться,” he replies, the words feeling foreign on his groggy tongue as a pounding headache began to fill the cracks in his splintered consciousness.

Clicking a button on his earpiece, the soldier spoke once more, but this time to the others in the cabin. "O ativo está ativo e pronto para ser implantado."

The door to the helicopter was shoved open, the harsh winds sending a sudden, sharp wave of irritation through the asset–and it grew, rising up through his blood until it bled into every facet of his body, mind, and etched its way into his soul. The sky around the helicopter began to dim. 

As the helicopter began to rumble and shake, unable to withstand the harsh winds that had manifested all around it, the asset felt a harsh shove against his back–and suddenly, he was falling through the air, the warm wind rushing past him in a rather brutal wake-up call, shaking his dazed and confused anger for something more–something more primal.  

His gazes set on the ground below him, the darkened sky and sudden onset of rain causing his visibility to decrease–but he didn’t have to worry, when the winds kept him safely afloat. One word–one mission. 

“​​Envolver.”

-

“Wow, it got dark really fast–FRIDAY, what’s the weather supposed to be?”

Tony stood by the window, his mug of coffee held in one hand as the other held a cell phone. The AI’s voice came from its speakers softly. “Sunny and warm, with scattered clouds.”

“Really…” He mumbled. “‘Cause this looks like a hurricane.”

Rosalie stood up from the couch, Jackson trailing behind her silently to approach Tony at the window. The sky was dark, clouds and fog covering the landscape–she watched as the trees threatened to rip out of the ground with each passing minute, the wind growing more intense second by second. Ever so slightly, she took a step back. 

“Hey, Tony? I don’t think–”

It felt like a scene straight out of a movie–all at once, she watched as several armed soldiers slammed their combat boots into the glass in front of Tony, and behind them, a familiar face wrapped in storm clouds. Rosalie had no time to react–the glass was shattering, the howling wind piercing her ears as she instinctively dropped to the ground in an attempt to shield herself. All around her, she could hear the shocked curses and yells of her comrades–the sounds of gunfire and the clashing of metal–but, naturally, none of them were prepared for an ambush; not when they’d had no idea HYDRA knew of their whereabouts in Brazil. 

They didn’t even have their earpieces–no effective way to communicate, aside from screaming over the winds which continued to strengthen with each passing second. 

Rosalie lifted her head, crawling over to the nearest wall and pressing her back against it, fumbling for her phone before remembering she’d left it in the room. 

Fuck. 

Her head darted around–from Bucky and Steve fighting with their fists to Tony, who’d wrapped his wrist and hand in an Iron Man gauntlet to blast soldiers away from him, to Natasha and Sam, who held a pistol and fired whenever they got an opening, to–

Where was Jackson?

All around the room, she scanned and scanned–but the mop of curly blonde hair was nowhere to be seen in any of the four corners. Her head finally snapped to the shattered window, but that familiar face was nowhere to be seen. 

Against the piercing winds, she crawled–the soldiers were far too busy fighting to notice her as she peered over the edge of the windowsill, scanning the ground but being unable to see it through the thick fog. Rain pelted her skin–it felt like glass piercing her at every angle–and she had to crawl backwards to avoid the torrent. 

“Rosalie!” She heard Bucky shout over the noise. “Go– get out!”

“Wha–?!” Her eyes widened, and she turned to him, using the wall to stand on wobbly legs. “Don’t be stupid–!”

“No, YOU don’t be stupid!” He hissed. “You’re unarmed– GO!”

…It was a good point. It was a great point, even–and so, she took the opening that Bucky was holding off for her and ran.

Only for the ground beneath her to start shaking violently as soon as she left the room. A sharp cry left her, ceiling tiles collapsing all around her and the flooring beneath her cracking and shattering. Dust and debris clouded her vision, and her legs collapsed under her once more as the shaking continued to rattle the building. 

She’d felt an earthquake before–a low-grade, Magnitude 4 earthquake a good number of years ago. She recalled it waking her up at 10 in the morning, her cats jumping off of her bed and hiding underneath it as the entire house shook back and forth. At first, she’d assumed it had been her brother shaking the bed to bother her–only for him to run in, with their dogs in tow, asking her what was going on. 

This–this wasn’t just an earthquake, though–this was the ground itself attempting to split open and swallow her whole. Was there anything she could do, aside from accept her fate as the winds threatened to tear the building apart at the same time as the ground did?

There’s nothing to do about this. There’s nothing to do about this. There’s nothing to do about this. There’s nothing to do about this. There’s–

“CHCK–!”

A choked yelp left her as the back of her shirt was yanked backwards, tightening around her neck like a rope before she was pulled further backwards–the hand on her shirt let go and instead grabbed her arm, and she only had a moment to gasp before being pulled face to face with Jackson, who stared at her with an intensity she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen from his shade of blue. 

“Rosalie.”

Thoughts and questions swirled in her mind. Had Jackson betrayed them? How else would HYDRA have known of their whereabouts despite how careful they’d been? She didn’t answer, both to catch her breath and also out of fear–it raced through her veins like a rope catching on fire, and Jackson seemed to notice this, as he simply sighed and yanked her towards the fire exit. She didn’t bother fighting back–he’d always been much stronger than her, even without the training. 

Finally, after much running, they made it downstairs–outside, and away from the falling debris. The rumbling of the earth slowly came to a stop, but the violent storm took much longer. When the fog dissipated and the storm cleared after what felt like an hour, but was likely only 15 or so minutes, the destruction of the area around them was apparent. 

It looked as if entire buildings had been leveled by the winds alone, rooftops missing and structures caved in on themselves–she looked around for any sign of her team, the Avengers, only to hear a shout and running footsteps. Immediately, Jackson yanked her forward again into another run, and she only got to glance back for a second to see their pursuer–a fully geared HYDRA soldier, chasing them and gaining ground fast. There was no time to focus on the devastation, or the people crying and begging for help–not yet.

“We aren’t–!” 

“Shut up! I’m trying to focus!”

He yanked her around a corner and into a parking lot, beelining towards a car before Jackson tried the handle and yanked the door open. Rosalie heard a ‘click’, and Jackson gestured for her to get in. 

“What?!”

“Get IN!” He nearly shouted, gesturing wildly before she quickly got into the car. Miraculously, the key had been left in the cupholder, and Jackson placed it into the ignition before yanking the gear stalk into drive and peeling out of the parking garage. Only when they were zipping through the streets (or attempting to, past all of the debris) did Rosalie turn to him, eyes wide. 

“What the FUCK is going on, Jackson?!”

“Rosalie, I looked into the future,” He said, eyes trained on the road. “I had to save you–because if you survive this, the Bacardi Bucket will be on the horizon.”

“...What?”

Was he serious? Was he actually being serious, right now? He’d saved her so he could get the Applebees Bacardi Bucket? There was no way–this isn’t happening. This could not be happening. Jackson clearly had no direction to where he was going, swerving to avoid debris and fallen trees as Rosalie gripped the ‘oh shit’ handle with white knuckles. Every glance at the rearview mirror suggested they hadn’t been followed–but where were they going?

“Once we get far enough, we can–”

A siren interrupted him. 

Rosalie glanced back again, into the rearview mirror, and slowly turned to face Jackson. He, too, white-knuckled the steering wheel, and began gritting his teeth in a scowl. Rosalie broke the silence gently, with a murmur. 

“Jackson, I think we’re being pulled over.” 

“...Fuck.”

Chapter Text

“...Of all things to look into the future for…”

In a small holding cell in São Paulo, Brazil, Jackson and Rosalie sat side by side. Both had been placed into cuffs, with Rosalie letting her hands dangle in between her legs while Jackson leaned against the concrete back wall. They were alone–other than the police officers standing in front of their cell. 

“You chose Applebees instead of predicting getting arrested?!”

A heavy sigh escaped Jackson, and he leaned forward to meet Rosalie’s eye. “The information I knew–you nearly getting crushed under debris–directly showed me 2 realities.”

“Uh huh.”

“And in the one where I let you die, I was left Bacardi-less.”

“...Okay? You explained this already–”

“No, no, shut up,” He scowled. “You’re pissing me off. Let me talk–I didn’t see the interim–I saw an event–your death–and the eventual result–a dinner at Applebees, all alone, with no Bacardi bucket. And then–”

Rosalie frowned slightly and leaned forward, listening to him drone on. The words felt meaningless–she already got what he meant. He saw the results, not what happened to get there; that much, she could infer from his explanation already. The rest of his words went in one ear and out the other as she mulled over their situation. 

With no forms of identification, and the hotel they’d been staying at likely in ruins, the outlook was bleak. Every possible outcome was so far from being in their favor it may as well have been in a different timezone– this operation couldn’t have gone any worse. She just knew Tony would ream her out later on–would she get banned from missions, again? This one really wasn’t her fault, though! Bringing her hands up to her face, Rosalie inspected each of her nails, the skin around the cuticles, and the lengths of each one–before choosing her thumbnail to chew off. A habit she’d never been able to break–she knew if Quint were here, he’d smack her hand away and scold her. 

“Are you listening?” Jackson suddenly asked, leaning down so he was in her field of view. Her eyes trailed over to him slowly, before she shook her head. 

“No–any way you can use that future thing to get us out of here?”

“I just did,” He sighed. “ I need a drink… ”

Right–alcohol dulled the pain, didn’t it? He’d told her that in the bar back in Paris–it reminded her of a simpler time; one where she’d laughed at him in a hotel room, shortly after their 21st birthdays, as he woke up from a nap and substituted a bottle of peach soju for water. They’d joked back then about alcoholism. 

How cruel it was, now, for that very same thing to be a respite from a power forced onto him.

A faint rumbling filled her ears, the ground under her feet vibrating ever so slightly. Her head turned to Jackson, who gazed up at the ceiling listlessly, letting his head drift from point to point, icy eyes falling on a potted plant in the officer’s desk across the hallway from them. He watched as it wilted slowly, its leaves drifting lifelessly to the floor in an instant, before turning to her, gaze cold. 

“Cover your head.” 

Rosalie yelped as the cinder block wall around them seemed to violently rattle right on cue before crumbling down, the small section right behind them miraculously remaining upright. A small moment of respite followed, silence filling their ears, before the section of wall fell backwards, away from them–it felt almost comical to Rosalie, akin to an old cartoon’s level of logic. Without the support of the wall, pieces of the ceiling began to crack and fall off–she only had a moment to bring her arms up, shielding her head to the best of her abilities as the light bulbs flickered, falling one by one to the floor and shooting up dust and debris in its wake. 

Silence immediately followed in the aftermath. 

Slowly, Rosalie lifted her head from her arms, exhaling a shaky breath from her trembling frame. Eyes wide, eyebrows raised– high alert. An animal of prey, feeling the eyes of the predator trained right on her. She heard Jackson from next to her shift, hazel eyes trailing over to glance at him–frozen in place, as well.

It was a standoff–ever so slowly, she turned her head to face the direction of the newly opened wall. Renovations? Would she have to pay for these damages? Not her fault, not her fault…deal with it later, when she wasn’t being hunted. The prey turns to face the predator…

And who she saw, standing in the center of the rubble, was a familiar face wrapped in unfamiliarity. 

-

“I really didn’t like you when we first met.”

Sitting atop the thick wooden railings, the gentle summer breeze blew past Rosalie–through the locks of her hair that she’d just brushed so it’d stay neat, ruffling the bangs she’d just pat down a moment ago. Jace, hopping down from the railing, allowed bare feet to hit the sand before turning around to her. 

“Why not?”

Down the beach towards the waterline, their friends laughed–Rosalie watched as Quint football tackled Quinn into the sand before rolling over, reaching into his pocket and throwing sand at Lilith, who sputtered and squealed with laughter. 

“Remember Zack? He talked so much shit about you that it was the only opinion I could have.”

Jace stilled, staring blankly at Rosalie who shrunk under his gaze before chuckling nervously. Jace, at the same time, snorted. 

“He had that effect, huh?” He shrugged slightly. “Just suffocated everyone else’s opinions–made it impossible to form your own.”

For a moment, she let the conversation drop–before shuffling off the railing and stepping next to Jace with a grin. “Yeah–annoying prick. You think he’s doing better?”

“I hope not.”

Their steps aligned in the sand, headed towards their friends who had now begun burying Quint under the sand right next to the waterline. The sun had begun setting over the horizon behind Jace and Rosalie, the moon peeking just slightly over the ocean just a tad too early. 

“Yeah,” She finally said, hands stuffed in her pockets. “I hope so, too.”

-

It looked like hospital garb, but different. A shirt and pants in that muted light blue color that had plagued her mind since seeing what Lilith had been wearing; her friends were nothing more than experiments to HYDRA, weren’t they? She felt sick, she felt sick, she felt sick, she felt sick– burn marks adorned various parts of his body and half of his face, and the edges of his sleeves were singed and burnt off, showing off more burn marks along his arms and ankles–she could only assume they went all the way around his body. His hair remained–though there were two spots she could see at his temples that had been visibly burnt off.

“...Jace…?” She whispered softly, tears filling her eyes. “Jace–you–”

“Catalyst.”

It was Jackson’s voice that cut through her own, his tone sharp and cold–it demanded attention, and it demanded her acknowledgement. 

“Huh…?”

“That’s his codename–he won’t respond to Jace, anymore.”

Codename. A codename. Catalyst. An environmental catalyst– she was going to be fucking sick. This wasn’t real. 

Jace, who had been standing still for the moment she’d taken to take in his appearance, lifted his arm. A bird dropped dead at his feet. He stared–not through, but at them, movements all too intentional yet erratic at the same time. With a breath taken in, the silence was broken. 

“Alvo localizado.”

The song I listened to while writing this.

Chapter Text

Where the fuck is she?!

It had been nearly half an hour since everything died down–the hurricane followed by an earthquake had made fighting off the HYDRA soldiers much harder than it’d had to be, but they’d gotten it done eventually; by the time the shaking had died down, it was a matter of surveying the damage and helping as many bystanders that had been caught in the catastrophe as they could. This, of course, could be added to his list of good deeds–maybe then, the doctor would get off his back for a second.

…And of course, another part of the immediate aftermath involved locating their mini-Steve. 

He remembered telling her to run –it had been the safest option in his mind at the moment, and he’d assumed she’d go to her room or to the building lobby. When the earthquake had started, he was only able to take a second to try and locate her in his field of vision before having to focus on the fight again. In hindsight, he probably should’ve told her where to go, but who could blame him for being preoccupied in the moment? 

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s not freaking out at all.

They’d all gathered outside of the hotel after the conflict died down at the behest of the hotel’s manager–Brazil, after all, was not a country suited to deal with earthquakes or hurricanes, and the building was incredibly unstable. Bucky had spent a short amount of time helping bystanders in the immediate vicinity, though his focus shifted shortly after realizing that there was a certain presence missing from his side. He’d left the remaining cleanup to Steve and Tony–they were the diplomatic leaders, after all–and dragged Sam off to help him locate her.

“She’s nowhere in the vicinity of the hotel,” came Sam’s voice, cutting through his racing thoughts. “Neither is, uh–off brand Dr. Strange–Redwing couldn’t catch sight of either of ‘em.”

Going silent, Bucky’s mind began to spin again with only the worst possible scenarios–HYDRA had kidnapped them both, or Jackson defected and kidnapped Rosalie. Neither scenario was very ideal–infiltrating HYDRA would be ten times harder now that they knew they were in the city, and if Jackson were to be a defector, he’d have the foresight to know of their arrival; obviously, their present situation was not ideal. 

“Buck?”

“I told you not to call me that,” He hissed, snapping out of his thoughts to glare at Sam, who only chuckled and shook his head. 

“Why not? Steve calls you that.”

“Steve’s known me longer– it doesn’t matter! That stupid drone of yours didn’t catch anything?”

“Nope–just a lotta damage.”

Great. Bucky gritted his teeth, staring holes into a random point of space as his mind continued to race–but there was no use in standing around, was there? The longer the seconds ticked on, the more peril she could be in–especially considering she didn’t have a gun– or if she was trapped under rubble.  

“...You’re gonna do something stupid, aren’t you.”

“Shut up.”

-

Dust filled Bucky’s lungs with each step. The hand over his mouth and nose did absolutely nothing to block the particles as they raced towards his airways, though he was certain it likely wasn’t the most toxic thing he’d breathed in–at most, particles of concrete that definitely should not be in a human being’s lungs. This was a dumb idea– a horribly stupid one, even –but he had to be sure. 

Had to be sure she wasn’t laying dead or mortally wounded under concrete and debris.

Behind him, Sam stepped tentatively–each step intentional and careful as he navigated the debris and ruin of the hotel–it had been so beautiful before the disaster, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel that they were somewhat culpable in this; would it have happened without their presence there? Likely not. Where the Avengers go, disaster follows.

“Buck, I’m telling you–” Sam began to speak before beginning to wheeze and hack. Bucky could only assume he’d inhaled a large portion of dust, and he turned around to watch before crossing his arms. 

“You done?”

The stare Sam gave was one of many emotions–the main one being shock. “You’ve got some nerve, man–”

“Atatat–” He put his hand up. “Careful. No sudden movement, Sam.”

It was more of a taunt than an actual concern.

They continued on, heavy footfalls crunching glass and pieces of concrete under each step. Heading up the emergency stairwell that was also clouded with debris, fallen doorways and cracked support beams–it was only a matter of time before the hotel crumpled under its own weight–Bucky was slow in his movements. 

Intentional. 

Every second spent in the building was dangerous, and both he and Sam knew that fact well enough. Every creak and groan of the structure had Sam flinching just a tiny bit–and Bucky wouldn’t admit to his own stress about the situation; both to himself, and to Sam. 

“You even sure she’s in here, man? Don’t you think she’d have made some noise by now?” Sam grunted, hand over his mouth as they stepped out of the emergency shaft and onto the floor they’d been fighting on. “I mean–”

“You can leave if you want.”

Tone sharp, Bucky didn’t bother glancing back at Sam as he spoke. His focus was solely on the doorway–or what used to be a doorway–to the room they’d been in. 

The last place he’d seen her.

“ Leave?” Sam gasped almost incredulously. “And let your dumbass get killed? Steve would have my head on a platter, man.”

“Then can you stop complaining and start –”

Bucky didn’t get another chance to ream into Sam, cut off by a POP! –but the source of the noise wasn’t the building's structure finally deciding to crash down on them. Rather, a bullet whizzing past Bucky and Sam’s faces.  

Through the debris filled room, an injured HYDRA soldier stood slowly, shakily, on two feet–the two men whipped their heads around in an instant, only in time to hear another POP! , and the soldier crumbled in on himself immediately, deceased in an instant. 

“...”

It had been Sam who pulled the trigger–Bucky hadn’t even managed to pull out his gun on time. 

“You’re usually quicker than that, Buck.”

And immediately, any sliver of gratitude slipped away from him as he sneered. 

“Shut up.”

Chapter Text

The feet slamming into the concrete could not overpower the sound of her thrumming heart–each THUMP THUMP THUMP was accompanied by an identical pounding in her chest, the familiar feeling of fuzziness overtaking her lungs and airways–but stopping was not an option. 

Not with their lives on the line. 

“Rosalie, LEFT!” Jackson shouted through his own wheezing. As she shifted her body quickly to the right, a car door flew past her at breakneck speeds, slamming into another car and nearly splitting it in half. Internally, Rosalie shuddered– she didn’t want to think about what would have happened if she hadn’t moved to the side, and yet her mind couldn’t stop running with the possibilities. 

Wind and debris pierced her skin again–she felt the howling in her eardrums as they popped, and watched as the ground underneath her feet cracked and rattled before shattering into individual pieces that the wind picked up and flung at her. There was no time to think about that. There was no time to do anything but run. No matter how much Rosalie wished to look back, to face him…

“ROSALIE!”

Another piece of debris–this time, a wooden pole that had been ripped from the ground, whizzed past her head. Jackson had grabbed the back of her head and shoved it down mid-run, and Rosalie winced upon hearing the sound of it hitting another car. It’s loud. It’s really loud.

Thinking ahead to the future wasn’t possible. She kept running, Jackson only inches on her tail and Jace only about 200 feet behind. Any falter in their pace meant less distance between them– between a tornado and them. Her entire body stung. 

Later. Later. 

She could see a crossroads coming up ahead of them–a fork in the road. Directly ahead of them was a park that diverged from a single point, and although which direction they went towards didn’t inherently matter, it’d be better to pick one with less obstacles. With Jace hot on their tails, though, trying to discern the two wasn’t entirely viable. 

There was no chance of them stopping for even a second without risking Jace catching up–and yet, as they came up to the fork, Rosalie watched as Jackson’s pace faltered before he stopped altogether and stared at the two options. 

“...Jackson?”

“Ssshhhhhhhhhh–!”

From the corner of her eye, she spotted something large and metal being lifted into the sky on a mini-tornado–Jace had stopped moving, seemingly focusing his energy into this one single object as it lifted, spinning around the tornado with increasing speed. 

Was he using the fucking tornado as a catapult?

“We really need to–”

“I’m looking!”

Looking–looking into the future THERE WAS NO TIME FOR FUTURE. 

Her gaze trailed slowly behind Jackson, focus shifting from his curly locks of hair to a small, narrow alleyway right behind them. It led to a dead end, tucked away between two buildings with a few doorways lining the walls and some garbage bags next to them–but otherwise, there was nothing special about it. They only had a few moments–no, seconds to act, now, as Jace continued winding up his projectile around the tornado; there was no telling what would remain of them after that thing eviscerated them.

It was quick thinking, really. Impulse, if you really want to call it that. In any case, Rosalie didn’t register what she had done until she rolled onto the concrete, arms and face scraping against the pavement while Jackson wheezed next to her. A few dozen feet away, she listened to metal crashing in what she could only assume was pure evisceration. She heard Jackson shifting and opened her eyes to see him sitting up slowly. 

“Ow…” He mumbled, bringing a scraped and bloody hand up to his forehead. “Fucks sake…”

Slowly, Rosalie sat up, wincing slightly as a familiar, warm pain coursed through her entire body. She wasn’t sure of its origins–but there wasn’t any time to worry about that right now. She watched with bated breath–but Jace didn’t show up. 

“Come on,” Jackson hissed, already kneeling with an outstretched hand. “We have to go.”

“...Right.”

As Rosalie reached up her arm, a sharp pain shot through her upper arm all at once. Her eyes widened, a choked gasp leaving her as her arm dropped on instinct–then, shakily, she lifted only her lower arm and took Jackson’s hand. 

“...What was that?” He mumbled. As they stood up, she brought her arm up, letting her shoulder crack once, then twice, then three times before huffing. 

“Flare-up.”

“Flare-up…?”

Rosalie’s eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raising before curling upwards with a trembling lip. Something so minor, yet…

“Right…” She breathed out shakily. “I forgot–you don’t remember my condition.”

Her eyes watched him carefully, scanning his face for any hint of recognition–but none came. It felt like, at that moment, everything came crashing down on her. Her body ached–every limb in her body felt stiff and unmovable, and she could feel the stinging of scrapes and scratches on her face and hands. It was too much. It was too much. The medication had kept everything at bay up until now, but the last two hours must’ve been filled with so much stress that a flare-up was inevitable. 

Tears welled in her eyes, and all she could do was let her head droop. 

‘Seriously, what’s the point in running, anymore? I’m tired. I feel like I’m gonna faint.’

“Rosalie–?!” Jackson blinked, then quickly scowled once her legs fell out from underneath her. She wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or whatever, but she felt like a baby deer trying to walk. “Now isn’t the–”

“I know!” She shouted through her tears. “I KNOW, I KNOW! Now isn’t the time for this, right?! We have to run from Jace, right?! You think I don’t know that?!”

Jackson took in a breath, before staying silent– yet another reminder of his differences to before. He used to shout back, or lean a shoulder for her to cry on, or do anything other than stand there and look bewildered. Why? Why won’t he move?

“I’m sick of this…” She mumbled, not even bothering to bring her weakened arms up to wipe her tears. “I–I’ve spent the last however many weeks training and fighting and–and RUNNING! And every day, I lay down, and everything hurts…! My body, my mind, my heart– I’m doing–I’m doing everything I can for you all–and–”

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Jace, peering over the corner before slowly advancing towards them at the back of the alleyway, step by step. 

“I’m tired…! I wanna go back– but you’re not even the same Jackson I met 15 years ago…! You’re not the same Jackson that dated my cousin behind my back, or sat with me at Applebees talking about Lizzy’s animals, or– or–”

“Rosalie…” He mumbled, taking a step backwards and away from Jace.

She knew she should move. She knew she should scramble away–but there was nowhere to go. Rationally, she knew there was nowhere to go. 

“I wanna go back to Wawa with everyone…” She whimpered, finally losing even the strength to weep. It was only a matter of time, now. 

A matter of time until Jace took her head clean off. The predator finally locks his jaws down on the prey. 

But…it never came. She waited, waited, waited–but nothing happened. Ever so slowly, she lifted her head…

Jace’s eyes were wide, shoulders slumped slightly as something within him wavered. He looked absolutely shell-shocked, lips parted in a soft gasp. 

“...Wawa…”

-

Tony had received a call from Bruce–Stark drones in the area were able to pick up on flying debris and a small but strong tornado. The view of the entire event was partially shrouded by buildings, but it was a direct lead to Jace’s whereabouts, and Natasha was able to deduce that wherever Jace was, Jackson and Rosalie were likely to be close by. 

It had taken both Sam and Steve to prevent Bucky from running off on his own. He was more irritated than anything, really–a lot of things were irritating him. A sharp pain in his shoulder, the buzzing of flies around him, the concerned voices and gazes of his closest friend–it was all irritating. Overstimulation, the shrink would call it. It happens when too many environmental factors are happening at once. Knowing what it was didn’t make it any easier to deal with, and it wasn’t like he could shrink off and be on his own for a while–no. 

All he could do was try and distract himself. In silence, he fiddled with his fingers, picking at the cuticles like he’d seem Rosalie do so often in an attempt to drown out the frustration in his mind while waiting for the call to head over to the aforementioned location. It felt like hours– it was likely only a few minutes, in reality– but soon enough, Steve was calling out for him from down the road. He only needed to do a light jog to catch up.

They’d head over on foot. There was far too much debris on the road to drive.

-

“Wha…?” 

Staring up at Jace, Rosalie watched through her tear-filled eyes as Jace seemed to cycle through several things in his mind. He stayed silent for a moment before looking down at her, with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Say it again.”

“Wawa…?”

At his feet, Jackson watched as a small dandelion bloomed between the cracks of the concrete. It was still–the sun shone through the clouds and the birds began to chirp, insects crawling over Rosalie’s leg. Though she’d usually freak out, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

“Jace–” She said softly, whispering so only he could hear. There were no visible changes in the atmosphere around them–but the dandelion began to wilt ever so slightly. “You…–!”

Cut off suddenly, Jace’s somber and searching eyes suddenly shot open before, all at once, they fluttered closed and his body went limp. 

“Jace!”

She leapt into action, trying to throw her body forward while still on the ground to try and cushion his fall–of course, she was too late, but not because he hit the floor. 

But because she watched as a metal and human arm flew underneath his shoulders and caught him. 

“Nice shot, Nat.” 

…It felt like immediately, as Rosalie registered that the danger was gone, that Jace had been subdued by the Avengers, and that her and Jackson were safe, every bit of adrenaline faded. Her body no longer needed to stay in survival mode, and so, pain began to shoot through her. Jackson, too, seemed to collapse as the weight of their stresses fell through, and she heaved herself to the wall as Bucky handed Jace off to Tony before heading over to her. 

“...Hey.”

His blue eyes bore into her–they weren’t scary. They never were. Ever since she’d gotten to the compound, she’d felt that the bond between them was far more intrinsic and deep-rooted in nature than words needed to be said. He trusted her, just as she trusted him–if he wouldn’t hurt her while he was a brainwashed supersoldier, he wouldn’t hurt her now, and vice versa. 

“...Hey,” She responded, pressing her head back against the brick wall. “Took you long enough.”

“Got caught up in things,” He huffed. “C’mon, can you get–”

“...Bucky.”

She tentatively lifted her arm, wincing slightly as the same pain shot through her upper arm and pausing for a moment–before continuing on to press her palm against his shoulder, causing him to wince. When she pulled it back, deep crimson painted her skin. 

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” His eyes widened, head snapping to his shoulder to see the well-hidden gunshot wound that had begun to bleed. Had he pulled something? It wasn’t rare for him to bleed–after all, he was still human, and the serum couldn’t heal him instantaneously. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re kidding,” Sam’s voice cut in from behind him. “Bucky Barnes, the always on guard super soldier, let himself get shot?”

“I didn’t even notice–”

“Must’ve been when we went back into the hotel and that enemy soldier shot at us. You were too focused on being worried that you–”

“Aaaaaand that’s enough out of you,” Bucky hissed, using his shoe to nudge Sam away. “Shut up. Come on.”

He stood up, holding out a hand to her–flesh, as usual. Their bond was intrinsic–something that didn’t need to be put into words. So, she lifted her arm again, whimpering slightly with each stab of pain through her entire aching body, and took his hand before letting him do the rest. Her legs felt like they’d collapse under her once again, but she stayed standing while clinging onto his arm. 

Ahead of them, a helicopter with the Stark logo landed, and Jace was loaded onto it. Jackson brushed past Rosalie’s shoulder as Tony beckoned him over as well, and slowly, her and Bucky began making the trek, as well, towards the helicopter. 

She’d have to get a refill back at the compound–maybe up her dosage. But for now, she had a crutch–and he had something to keep him grounded. 

Because something tugged them together–Rosalie was certain of this.

Chapter Text

In a quiet bunker somewhere underneath the Nevada desert, an older man with reddish-brown hair brooded over some paperwork on a metal desk. He’d only made it to that specific compound a day beforehand–his time, previously, was being spent in Newark–on what he’d deemed a much more complicated project. 

“Catalyst, too, now?” He muttered to himself softly. “I mean, seriously, it’s like–”

“Mr. Pierce.”

A voice cut through his silence. 

“...Yes?” He frowned, lifting his head and turning to the soldier. “Is there something you need?”

Giving a quick salute, the soldier entered the room further, the metal door shutting behind them–their only view to the outside world, a small bulletproof window covered by bars. 

“The Machine–”

“Jackpot Machine?” Pierce asked, voice sharp. “What about it?”

“Well…last night–”

-

Somewhere in Nevada…

“Where…are we going?” He panted, exhausted legs being forced to move against his will as the rusted frame encasing his body pushed on through the desert. “It–it’s so– hot…”

“DO YOU NOT SEE?” The frame responded. “LOOK. WE ESCAPED THAT FACILITY–ALL FOR ONE PURPOSE.”

“Is that… Vegas…?”

“OH, YES. LAS VEGAS– JACKPOT.”

-

Rosalie wasn’t sure how many times she woke up in the middle of the night–once, twice, maybe three times. Even being back at the compound, she couldn’t find it in her to sleep comfortably–usually a deep sleeper, anything at all seemed to be waking her up. 

As her eyes snapped open once more, the light of the moon beamed through her window, its glow gentle and nurturing. Yet, the serenade of the moon was wholly unable to wipe the slimy feeling surrounding her body. The room was cold, and underneath her plush comforter, it was warm. Underneath that comforter, Sharkie snuggled up to her side, with Rascal sleeping at her head soundly. To her–to anyone, really–this would be a picturesque night. 

But unease crept into her mind, because she could still feel the sweat despite showering three separate times. She could still feel the stinging pain of her skin being scraped open by asphalt and metal. She could still feel the throbbing warmth of her knees, her arms, her fingertips–a nasty flare-up with no remedy other than rest. She could still feel her lungs burning, and most of all, she could still feel the eyes of a predator locked onto her.

Jace had been taken into a secure location underneath the compound–to ensure he could get treatment without leveling the entire building. She knew he was down there–hell, she’d even gone to see him after her three showers, despite the great pain it put both her body and heart in to see him in such a state–but even then, even knowing he was down there, and not behind her…

No point in freaking out. Ever so gently, she nudged Sharkie awake, who mrrped softly at her before nuzzling his head into her side again. Rosalie sighed softly, shifting her head to the side to kiss Rascal on the head before sitting up, earning another mrrrp from Sharkie–this time more disgruntled. 

“I’ll be back,” She mumbled softly. “Just gonna get some water.”

If she hadn’t been awake before, she most certainly was now as the frigid air of the compound hit her body, jolting her awake and immediately causing her to regret the decision to move. Still, she pressed on–slithering into her slippers and slowly standing up–pushing past the ache in her knees and feet and pressing onwards regardless, towards the kitchen. 

Truthfully, Rosalie wasn’t even all that thirsty, and she knew the water would taste gross with her sleep breath, but it was 3 in the morning and she did not plan on being awake for long–so what would be the point in brushing her teeth right now? 

Her movements were slow–at times, she leaned against the walls or a window in order to let the building pain in her legs subside–it reminded her of being 20 and nearly fainting while leaving the movie theater with Quinn. Of going home that night, trying to get some iron in her blood only for someone to steal the doordash order from the restaurant. Of the next two weeks being spent in agonizing pain, feeling like rocks were stuck in the soles of her feet, of her shoulders, her calves–of clinging to the walls of her home while trying to go from her room to the bathroom, unable to stand on her own for even a minute. Limping to the doctor’s office because she was unable to put any weight on her leg, or even fully extend it. 

How long had she waited to tell her mother something was wrong? Rather, how long did she deny something was wrong until it got to be too much? It had to have been a few weeks; agonizing weeks spent wondering if she was dying, only to be told it was something else entirely, something nonfatal but incurable.. 

She hadn’t felt that way since beginning treatment. Losing her medication would certainly suck for a few days–Tony worked whatever magic he did to get her medicine sent to the compound’s medical bay, but it would be a day or two before she actually got it, and another day or two before she felt the effects. 

Exhausting…

What should have been maybe a minute long walk took 3, and Rosalie fully expected to be alone in the kitchen–and yet, someone stood at the counter, sipping a glass of wine while idly staring out of the window. 

“...”

“You’re up early,” the person spoke softly, her voice lifting into a tease. 

“You’re up late,” Rosalie responded.

Natasha turned to her fully now, lit up only by the moon and a single light flicked on above her. The way she moved was slow–lazy, even. Something unbecoming of the Black Widow. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” She responded. “You, too?”

Responding with a nod, Rosalie shuffled slowly over to the fridge and grabbed a cup from a cupboard before grabbing some water–Stark had fancier options than the fridge tap, but she preferred this. “Kept waking up.”

“Got it.”

And for a moment, there was silence. Rosalie allowed it for only a short while, before the self-perceived awkwardness got to be too much, and she took in a deep breath–

“Aht–” Natasha lifted a finger, silencing her immediately. “You’re gonna say something stupid, aren’t you? Like an apology for what happened in Brazil, perhaps?”

“...” The words lived and died on her tongue within a fraction of a second. “Yeah–I just…I feel like I could’ve done a better job.”

“You serious?” She snickered before devolving into a sigh. “Maybe, but it would’ve ended in your death or capture.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Rosalie suppressed a deep frown from etching across her features. 

“There’s only so much we can do, you know.”

We? That was a tall word–she feared her confusion would come off as aggression if she spoke, but her face spelled everything there was to know, anyways. 

“ We. Human beings–not enhanced in any way. The difference between you and I,” Natasha huffed, gesturing vaguely to herself. “Is that you’re new to this; but that doesn’t make you any lesser than any of us.”

“I–!” She repressed the need to tear up. Frustration–why don’t they understand? Or is it herself that doesn’t understand? “I just… I–”

“Slowly, take a sip of water…” She smiled, standing up and joining Rosalie on her side of the counter. A gentle hand went to her shoulder, and Rosalie instinctively leaned into the touch with a sniffle. 

“Everyone is so great…” Her breath was shuddering with each exhale, and all she could do to still her nerves was sip the water gingerly. “You may not be enhanced, but you’re… really good at what you do… ”

Was there a single thing Rosalie could say she’d ever been great at? Being an author was still the goal, but in a realistic sense, could she ever manage that? Could she go into aviation journalism, either, while having a measly degree that ultimately got her nowhere but back at the minimum wage job she’d loathed for years?

Everyone had a goal. She did, too–one she cherished, held close to her heart as if it’d break if it ever left the warmth of her hug. The difference between her, and them, was her utter incompetence.

…Or so it seemed. 

“It didn’t come without a price,” Natasha hummed, almost wistful. “I lost my childhood, and any chance at having a real family, before I could form coherent thoughts. A spy, trained in secret to be the perfect weapon. Being good at what I do won’t give me back the things I’ve lost–the people I’ve lost, or killed, to get here.”

“...”

It really was herself that didn’t understand.

Rosalie had always been privileged. No matter what hardships she’d faced, the fact remained that she had been better off than everyone around her, for the most part. And now–even the Avengers, the shining ray of hope in many people’s lives, seemingly blessed with strength and courage…

It wasn’t like that at all–it was never a blessing. Not for people like Natasha, or Jackson, or Jace–it was never a blessing. 

Rather, a curse.

“You’re doing good,” Natasha spoke again. “You’re unlucky to be in this situation, but you’re making the best of it–and, honestly? You’re doing a lot more than most people would.”

“...” Words caught in her throat, Rosalie only nodded, sniffling and taking another sip of water. 

“You’re only human– have some compassion for yourself, okay?”

Another nod. Natasha’s warm hand left her shoulder as she made her way back to the chair she’d been sitting on, stretching her arms above her head in a yawn. 

“You should get back to sleep.”

-

In the warm encasement of the plush comforter Stark provided her, Rosalie Ames slept soundly–curled up with Sharkie and Rascal purring softly against her chest and ear. The gentle sunrise peeked its eye over the horizon, bidding a quiet greeting to the dawn to come.

Natasha Romanoff sat in the kitchen, glass of wine long finished–a tired hum escaping from her lips. It wouldn’t be long before people began waking up. 

But for now it was her and the sunrise–a warmth she wasn’t sure she deserved, but welcomed nonetheless.

Chapter Text

There was something about being in the compound that made it impossible to stay asleep–this time, being a rapid knocking at her door before it slid open. She was startled awake, gasping and sitting up which caused Sharkie to scurry for cover underneath the bed. In her doorway, Erin stood, Bucky at her side.

“He’s awake.”

-

It was only Jackson, Erin, Evelyn, and Rosalie in the medical bay–as opposed to last time when Tony had stood guard inside, this time Bucky was begrudgingly standing guard outside, per Rosalie’s request. 

Or rather, demand. 

“Stay out here,” Rosalie stated, hand on Bucky’s chest to stop him from entering the doorway any further. His eyes snapped down to her, cerulean hue tinged with shock. 

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows raised before they furrowed. “Not a chance.”

“I’m not asking,” She hissed, turning to him with her back to the infirmary door. “Stay out here.”

“Why?! If something goes wrong–”

“Your vibranium arm cannot stop a tornado that breaks the Enhanced Fujita scale.”

Silently, he stared down at her. Then, his head tilted slightly. “The what?”

“Exactly my point,” She huffed, lips threatening to turn up into a smile. “I don’t want to stress him out. Unlike Jackson, he can level this entire facility if he’s upset enough–so just stay out here and listen.”

And fortunately, he’d listened. Erin remarked once the door had closed that Bucky was starting to remind her of a puppy trailing after his owner. Rosalie didn’t see it, but the way he’d tilted his head did remind her of a dog. 

He’d probably be a German Shepherd, or something.

In the infirmary, Evelyn was already sat with Jace at his side, holding a glass of water out to him. Jackson stood off in a corner, arms crossed and gaze cold. Jace’s eyes were dazed and cloudy, glancing warily around the room before locking onto Rosalie and Erin as they entered. 

“...Hey,” Erin spoke first, smiling softly down at him. “You feeling any better, buddy?”

“...” He said nothing at first, then nodded. “Yeah…I…I guess so…”

“His memory is intact,” Evelyn started. “He remembers everything– including his time with HYDRA. I guess they didn’t wipe him well enough–that, or they didn’t have enough time. ”

“So a psych eval is warranted,” Rosalie stated. “I hope F.R.I.D.A.Y. is catching all of this.”

“I am,” The A.I. chimed in, causing Rosalie to hiss as her shoulders lurched. “I’m always listening, after all.”

“...Great. Thanks…”

“Hey, um…” Jace, soft-spoken as ever, almost whispered. “I…There’s something I need to know…”

“Yeah?” They stepped forward, now at his bedside as well. 

“Is…Alpharuin chapter 6 out yet?”

“...No, Jace. Alpharuin chapter 6 is not out yet. It’s been two months.”

At that, Jace seemed to perk up, though something in the air around him visibly changed–it felt… colder, and Rosalie was sure she could smell rain in the air. “Two months…I’ve been missing for two months…?”

“...Yeah, roughly speaking–it’s March now, and you guys got taken in the beginning of January.”

“...Yeah…” He muttered softly. “I remember them talking about that–they sent me to Brazil, and Lilith to…Newark? Everyone else is slipping my mind…sorry…– ah, hey. Why is Jackson here?”

“...” 

A glance was taken. Rosalie met Jackson’s eyes, and he scowled at her instinctively before realizing and letting his face slip back to neutrality. She glanced at Evelyn and Erin next, and they all shared a look before Rosalie sighed. 

“Um…he only went missing 8 months ago because HYDRA kidnapped him in Paris. Totally unrelated–just a…fucked up coincidence, I guess.”

“And right now, we’re at the Avengers facility, right…?”

“Hard to believe, right?” Erin grinned, showing her teeth. “It’s like an action movie–only except watching it, we’re living it…!”

“...It’s a lot less exciting when you’re living it, huh…”

“...Yeah…”

Rosalie swore she felt a raindrop land on her shoulder. 

-

That conversation in the medical bay had taken all but two hours, though it felt much longer when the air in the room had felt so… morose. That, and she was absolutely starving. Jackson, Erin and Evelyn had decided to stay and keep talking to Jace, leaving Rosalie to head to the kitchen on her own to get a snack before she checked on her cats. 

Bucky had tried to come along, but Rosalie wouldn’t let him. What’s the point of you standing guard if you leave your post? She was tired– exhausted, even; she was sure he could see that, too, because his fight lasted all but two seconds. So, she slinked off to the kitchen in silence. 

“...the airport down in Newark…”

“...Mr. Stark…help…”

A familiar and unfamiliar voice ebbed in and out the closer she got to the kitchen. One of Stark’s employees, she was sure–nothing she should concern herself with. Though, as she got closer, the voice seemed a bit too…

Immature… to be a Stark employee. 

She crossed into the threshold of the kitchen now, trying to make herself unknown–but the other person whipped around immediately. 

And he was just…

“Sunny,” Tony nodded, flashing her a brief smile. “I suppose now is a good enough time–meet my…uh…what’s the word–apprentice? Good enough…”

“You have an apprentice?” 

“Yep.”

Her vision flashed from Tony to the kid, and he flashed her a nervous smile. Tony spoke up again, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Ever heard of Spiderman?”

Chapter Text

“...Spider… man.”

A quick glance over at the kid in front of her proved that name to be false–but that would be rude to say to his face, and the kid was staring at her with big enough eyes to make her feel like she was staring at a puppy. 

“Yes, ma’am,” He said softly, tipping his head down awkwardly. “Um–yes–Spiderman. From Queens.”

…Maybe she wished she’d brought Bucky along. This was painfully awkward. 

“Nice to meet you,” She finally hummed, smiling softly and holding her hand out to shake. He stared at it, then blinked and seemed to shiver out of his skin before slapping his hand into hers and gripping violently. Immediately, she hissed, causing him to let go. 

“Sorry, sorry…!” 

“‘s fine–” 

Nursing her aching hand close to her chest, Rosalie’s eyes flickered between the kid and Tony–the kid. What was his name?

“Am I supposed to just call him ‘Spiderboy’ or does he have a name–”

“Spiderman...”

“Spiderman. Right.”

“Yes!” Tony beamed, his hand clasped hard on the boy’s shoulder. “Pete, you mind if I tell her? Well, I already kinda did– ”

The longer Tony rambled on, the more… irate? the kid seemed to grow. His eyebrows grew increasingly creased, eyes trailing from Rosalie to Tony with a slow, steady gaze before he sighed and shook the older man’s hand off of him with ease, causing Tony to scoff and cross his arms.

“Peter Parker, ma’am.”

Finally!  

“Rosalie Ames.” 

And the two nodded at one another, sharing a knowing look between them as Tony tilted his head. 

“Peter, if I can ask– how old are you? Surely Stark doesn’t have you doing unpaid labor as a minor–”

“Technically, not unpaid.”

“So he’s a minor.”

“...Yes, but– ”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter cut in. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what? I’m not doing anything. Are you doing anything, Rosalie? ‘Cause I’m not–”

For a moment, Rosalie had almost forgotten why she’d come in here–Tony’s incessant rambling and deflection had distracted her, as did Peter being there. Hunger could not be abated forever, though, and her stomach’s growling was the reminder she needed to make haste and shuffle aside. Tony’s eyes followed her, but he said nothing…

…For the moment. 

The conversation between Peter and Tony continued. Rosalie didn’t want to eavesdrop, really–it wasn’t her place, and it wasn’t as if she entirely cared for what the supergenius and his apprentice were talking about. Probably something she couldn’t understand in all of her years, anyways–

“Hey, Sunny.”

Hand deep in the cabinet, gripping a box of crackers, Rosalie froze. Then, slowly, she pulled it from deep within and clutched it to her chest, closing the cabinet door and turning to him with wide eyes. 

“Yes?”

His eyes were on her, as were Peter’s–though the looks in their eyes were entirely different. Whereas Tony had a hint of his usual smug, almost sardonic look in his eyes, Peter looked like a sad puppy… again. Just what had their conversation entailed to warrant that look?

“You think Pete here would be well suited for our little recon missions?”

… Ah. Suddenly, the tidbits of conversation she’d heard while walking in made sense. They were talking about Lilith, at the Newark Airport– Peter had been asking to help. But what kind of person would she be, to ask a teenager for help? To ask a teenager to risk his life for something he wasn’t involved in? It would be cruel– not just cruel, but something straight up cartoonishly evil.

“No.”

Her answer was quick; almost too sharp for her own comfort, and she could hardly bear the way Peter’s eyebrows furrowed upwards in dejection. 

“I’m not…” She murmured, trailing off. “I’m not comfortable asking for that– I don’t even like you guys doing it. That’s not my decision to make…”

“Ma’am,” Peter spoke, voice soft at first. “I know I’m young, but I have a lot of experience–”

“It’s not my decision to make...”

Her resolve was wavering–of course, it always did under the slightest resistance. 

“A lot on your conscience, right?” Tony sighed, shoulders slumping as he shook his head. “Not that it matters to me–I’m just trying to get him to back down.”

“And you know I won’t–”

The two clearly had a long-standing and close relationship. Peter didn’t show any of the restraint he did towards her, which made complete sense. Watching them felt like watching a father and son bicker. 

Tony had that air about him, didn’t he…? Even when he was scolding her, acting like what she’d assume a father to act like…

“Just be safe about it if you do decide to come along,” Rosalie huffed a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I assume you will–if you’re anything like me. Tony, better to let him do it safely than making him sorry.”

That was as good a verdict as Rosalie was willing to give, and she’d leave it at that with her box of crackers as she made an exit from the room amidst the two’s continued bickering back and forth.