Hey guys! Welcome to Chapter 2! This starts and ends with a flash back of what Bonnie was doing during the Avengers and explaining why she wasn't there. Is this format too much for this story right now? Is it too Arrow? Let me know if it is!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel. Marvel owns that.

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May 22, 2012

Bonnie couldn't believe her eyes. It was impossible, ludicrous! This had to be this century's War of the Worlds. There was no way New York was being attacked by aliens of all things. Was this what Uncle Phil meant when he said Level 7? The proof that was in front of her, straight from the local news station in the dingy motel room in Mexico City, was still hard to process. She needed to get back to the states, and she needed to get back yesterday.

But Bonnie was grounded at the moment. All flights had canceled around the globe as the world watched in horror as hundreds of alien soldiers rained down upon one of the world's most infamous cities. S.H.I.E.L.D. would've been out of the question. If they called the Avengers in, they would have to have all hands on deck.

It wouldn't have mattered if I had made it anyway, she reminded herself. Bonnie left her mission in a hurry, there were a lot more casualties than necessary, she was wounded with infection starting to manifest due to the lack of clean water. Bonnie may have had success, but just barely. The long cut from her collar bone to her hip throbbed every time she moved, her ankle screamed in pain as assurance that she probably tore her Achilles Tendon once again, and bruised rib made breathing hard and labored. Bonnie's back stung no matter which way she turned, the burns from the explosion oozing a bit of puss as the blisters popped, and she was sure her misery knew no end.

Groaning, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick message before turning off the little television in her room. There was no point in watching it, nothing she could do about it anyways. All that was left to do was rest and wait. Hopefully she did her job just well enough to be able to stay put until S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to pick her up, as she doubt that she could make a clean getaway in her present condition.

What was it that Clint always says? This looks bad.

Bonnie smiled at the thought. It seemed that she had inadvertently inherited her former Supervisory Officer's trait of getting into the worst kind of trouble. Remembering the call that got her speeding up the mission, the one where her honorary uncle told her that Clint had been compromised, faded her smile. Bonnie's day might look bad, but she could assure you that Clint's had to be worse.

She hoped Natasha Romanoff would get to him before anyone else. Bonnie didn't know Agent Romanoff too well, but she knew her well enough to know that the other woman would do anything for Clint, and she hoped that was enough to save him from whatever it was that he had gotten into. Although, she thought she may have seen the redhead in battle next to Captain America. Was Clint there too? He must be. Why else would Romanoff be there. Either Clint was still compromised and fighting against the Avengers, or he had been saved, and then sent into a battle of other worldly proportions. The latter seemed so innately stupid and irresponsible it wasn't even funny, but so Clint at the same time.

Bonnie amused herself with the idea of Clint bursting through the door of her hotel room. His eyes would do an involuntary sweep of the room, expertly checking every nook and cranny, before settling on her. She could almost hear his sigh of relief before sauntering over to the bed, making a comment on how she was only in her underwear, as he checked over her injuries.

"Yes, apparently it only takes an explosion to get me out of my dress," Bonnie spoke to the imaginary Clint Barton. He would shake his head at her attempted joke and wrap her in the dingy blanket, then carry her back to a quinjet.

Her mind switched to a different scenario. One where instead of Clint, it was Uncle Phil bursting into her room. Were Clint would've started with a joke, Uncle Phil would've spoke words of comfort as he checked over the burns and cuts and bruises. Uncle Phil would be ever so gentle as he wrapped her up and lifted her damaged body.

She hoped they would hurry up with the impossible and come get her. Bonnie had no idea how much longer she could last.

Bonnie felt like she couldn't breathe. Above her, with kind and beautiful blue eyes, was Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

No, that's not right. The man looking down at her was hardly a man, let alone Captain America; before her sat Steven Grant Rogers circa 1941. What the hell was happening? Her face must've said it all because in that moment, Steve's calmed face, twisted into worry.

"Ma'am," his voice was a half octave higher than when she knew him, but there was no mistaking that familiar timbre any longer. "Are you alright?"

"Of course she's not alright," the other voice, the one who walked through the door spoke. Bonnie heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. "Look at her! Some goons jump her good. Despicable really, beatin' a dame like that. Hey, darlin'." She didn't know who she was expecting, but Bonnie was still a bit shocked to see Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes standing right next to Steve.

"Wha-" a scratched and dry throat was met with that first syllable. Bonnie cleared her throat, and continued, "What's the date?" It was a basic question, one she was sure she knew at least part of, but she needed to be sure.

Steve and Bucky gave each other a questionable look, before Steve spoke up, "December 8th 1941." Great. Just fan-fucking-tastic. She had been sent exactly 72 years into the past. By whom, though? How was she going to return?

"What happened?" Bonnie doubt that they would know of the source of her injuries, however they could fill in some blanks. "Where am I?"

"We found you in an alley about four blocks down," Steve said, quietly. "You were- are pretty banged up. I've gotten most of your wounds cleaned, but we need to… uhmm…" Bucky chimed in, saving Steve from apparent embarrassment.

"We gotta get that suit off you, miss," he said, gesturing towards the torn up Kevlar encompassing her body. "Get you into something clean and a bit more comfortable." Bonnie nodded and began attempting to sit up. "Whoa there, you're gonna injure yourself more."

"Then what do you propose I do?" she didn't mean to snap at him, but the helplessness was embarrassing and infuriating. Thankfully, Bucky wasn't one to back down.

"I'm going to put this out there and mention that Steve nor I have any desire to cause you to feel uncomfortable-"

"I don't care if you see me completely naked, why would I care if you see me in my undergarments?" Bonnie snapped. The men looked at her. Bucky was clearly amused, a smirk gracing his handsome face, while Steve look a bit stunned. Bonnie sighed, "I'm… look, you're right. I need to change. My suits a bit constricting. I'd love some help."

"O-okay," Steve noticeably gulped. "What do you need us to…"

"First, help me sit," Bonnie's voice was pained, and with very slight hesitation, the two men helped her into a sitting position. She gave a hiss of pain and indicated a brief break. Once the pain gave away to a static numbness, the three (with a bit of instruction from the young woman) successfully stripped off the top part of her uniform, her scar not going unnoticed by the two of them. Ignoring it, she spoke, "Okay, good. Now, can you pass me that bit of comfort you promised me, my good sir?" Bucky gave her a charming smile before going to retrieve the night dress from the kitchen.

"Mr. Rogers," Bonnie piped up, turning to a quiet Steve. "Can you do me a huge favor?" Steve gave her a glance and nodded. "I need to get this bra off. It's damaged and torn and I just… I'm sorry if it's too-" but he just shook his head.

"I don't mind," Steve's eyes widened. "What I mean is- well, I'd be happy to help. Well, not so happy-"

"I get it," Bonnie smirked. "Can you…" Steve nodded and moved behind her. Bonnie cringed when he released an audible gasp coming from him. Fingers ran down her right shoulder blade to the middle of her back. "Don't worry about that injury, Rogers, it's already healed up." Steve didn't reply but his fingers moved back to the hook-n-eye of her strap.

"You live one dangerous lifestyle, dontcha darling?" Bonnie tilted her head up to the foot of the bed to Bucky who stood with a sad smile gracing his lips.

Bonnie mirrored it, "Maybe, but it's worth it."

"How is getting beat up worth it?"

"I help people. If that means I get a bit beat up at times, then so be it," Bonnie ended the conversation just as the confines of her bra were released, allowing her breast to relax a tad. "Thank you." Carefully, she slipped off the now damaged garment, hiding her breast from the two men.

Bucky, who had glanced up at the ceiling, asked, "Do you need help with the night gown?"

"Could you pull it over my head? I think I can get the arms in." It took another five minutes for Bonnie to get completely free of her outfit and into the baggy, clean night gown. For this she was grateful. "Thank you both."

"It's not a problem, darlin'," Bonnie smiled to Bucky, already liking the man. "I don't think I introduced myself before. James Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"Bonnie Locke," she said with a lazy smile; then, turning to Steve, "Sorry about earlier. It's nice to meet you. Both of you."

Steve smiled, saying, "It's a pleasure, ma'am. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

"Well, I'm glad it's the two of you that found me," she replied. "At least y'all don't seem like the murderin' type. I promise I'll be out of… whichever one of y'alls house this is after a nights rest."

"Oh, no you don't," Bucky piped up. "You are more than welcomed to stay here for as long as you like. Now, if you both excuse me, I'm gonna make us some soup. Steve, help her drink a little of that water."

Steve smiled and shook his head as Bucky walked to the other end of the room. He gave Bonnie a brief smile before bringing a glass of water into her line of vision and too her chapped lips. The cooled liquid soothed her aching throat, and quenched a thirst she was previously unaware of until then. Placing a hand over Steve's, she tilted the glass up more, draining the cup with a satisfied sigh.

"Thank you," Bonnie smiled, feeling a bit more comfortable around this Steve, than she was with the bossy one of the future.

"You need it," he said with a shrug. "And Bucky means it. You can stay with him as long as you like."

Bonnie gave Steve a small smile, "We'll see." A yawn escaped her lips, causing her chest to restrict painfully. "I think I'm gonna catch some shut eye for a bit, if you don't mind."

Steve gave a brief frown, but nodded. "That sounds like a good idea to me." Steve moved off the bed and to the kitchen. Bonnie soon remembered how easy it was to fall asleep when in pain.

May 24, 2012

It had been two days since she sent her Uncle Phil the first of many texts with her location, and Bonnie still found herself in the same dirty motel room in Mexico City. Even Clint seemed to be ignoring her texts, though she guessed that his phone was buried deep in a duffle bag somewhere. The call-in for agents was out of question, as it seemed the end of the world just happened, and the likelihood of even a message getting to someone in time was slim-to-none.

Her body was weak, broken, and a fever had ravaged through her body. Panic was setting in, as realization that maybe everyone, in the wake of such a global catastrophe, had forgotten about her. Forgotten the mission she was on.

Surely they would come to her rescue. She was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top agents after all. Bonnie grabbed her phone, noting the 4% battery power taunting her. She had one chance, one call that would hopefully get through. Weighing her options, she narrowed it down to Natasha (who was always prepared for anything), Agent Maria Hill, and Director Fury himself. But if her Uncle Phil wasn't answering, the Hill and Fury must both be too busy to give their phones a second glance.

Scrolling through her contacts, she found Natasha's name, hit call, and prayed.

Three rings and then…

"Hey, Bon-Bon!" Bonnie nearly cried when Clint's voice came from the other line. "You doin'-"

Bonnie, in fear that her battery life was ending soon, didn't let Clint finish, "Mexico City, pink and green motel on the southwest end of town. Room 115. Neon palm tree sign."

"Bonnie, what-" her phone went silent and she sighed. Clint knew where she was, and he'll be there to carry her out in the next couple hours. She just needed to hold on for that long.

She didn't know when she drifted into unconsciousness, but the next thing she knew a soft voice was calling her name. Bonnie's eyes fluttered open, locking in on crystal blues, which were not the steely color she was hoping for. However, she calmed slightly when her eyes came to focus and the face belonging to crystal blues became clear.

In a shaky whisper, she said, "Captain Rogers?"

Bonnie was mildly surprised by the man who had shown up, but not as much as she was by the confused and hurt look that ran across that man's features. It was only a flash, though, before he seemed to remember something. Composing himself, he smiled down at Bonnie.

"Bonnie!" Clint's voice, though a tad too loud, brought a smile to Bonnie's face and tears to her eyes. Captain Rogers stepped out of the way for a worried and relieved Clint Barton. "Oh thank god!" Clint began his check up, too worried about Bonnie's broken state to joke, and too relieved to care about her silence as well. "We need to get her to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bay quick. The closest one still operating is in-"

"There's no time," said Captain Rogers. "Look at her! We need to get her to the closest hospital-"

"Where they will ask questions?" Clint countered. "We're still too close to her targets whereabouts, she had to rush her mission because of this whole 'Loki' thing, so we don't even know if she's being pursued right now, and we have a quinjet that can fly faster than anything else known to man. Nat, do you think we can get her to the Hub?"

"Possibly," Bonnie's eyes drifted. So they sent Clint, Romanoff, and Rogers to get her. That was comforting. "Is she running a fever?"

"Yeah," Rogers' spoke. "And there is blood all around her in varying shades of red. We need-"

"Bonnie," Clint's voice drowned out the conversation between Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers. That was fine. Let them plan, just get me home. "Hey, Bon-Bon, you can't fall asleep on me, okay. I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me, buttercup?"

"Buttercup?" Bonnie peaked up at him.

Clint smiled, "It was the first thing that came to my mind." Bonnie hummed, eyes drifting closed. Exhaustion took over, and not even Clint's yells could jostle her awake. She felt as if she were falling and floating at the same time. Down and down, deeper and deeper. It occurred to Bonnie, then, that this must've been how Alice felt as she tumbled down the rabbit hole. Finally, she landed in freezing cold and blazing hot on a hard surface, before losing all feeling, physically and of her own self, as darkness finally enveloped her completely.

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