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Since the last chapter was short, I decided to give you another.
"We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it."
Rick Warren
Chapter Three
Her sleep was filled with mundane dreams she'd never remember when she would wake, which was a blessing for her. She was pulled from the best sleep she'd had in awhile, by the feeling of a hand shaking her shoulder.
"Come on" she heard Steve say, as she opened her eyes, "We're here"
Clara nodded, as she pulled herself up, sliding over and slipping out of the door Steve was holding open for her. Rethinking the quality of sleep, when she kinked her aching neck, stretching out her sore limbs. Sleeping in the backseat of a car is definitely not the comfiest of positions, and she'd much rather a soft and warm bed. But, she was sure that desire wouldn't be fulfilled anytime soon.
They had arrived outside an old army base, that, by the looks of things, hadn't been used in a long time. It was then, when she saw the sign, covered in dirt and barely hanging on to the fence, that she knew where they were. And the significance of the location.
"Is this it?" Asked Steve, as the three of them neared the gate, her eyes trained on his face, that had it's usual pensive expression. She wished that it hadn't become usual. Steve used to be happier.
"The file came from these co-ordinates" said Natasha
"So did I"
As they walked around inside, she kept glancing back at Steve, checking his reactions. Gauging his response. Making sure he was okay.
"This camp was where I was trained" said Steve
"Change much" asked Natasha, holding up the tablet in the air as they walked
"A little" said Steve, stopping in his tracks, to stare through the dark, at a rusty old flag pole
Pyschology degree, and knowing him for years, aside, it was plain to see that in that moment, and a lot of moments prior, Steve was stuck between the past and the present. Between what had once been, and what is. Though, Clara had a sneaking suspicion, that Steve had no idea about the latter. And, the sad fact was, this dilapidated army base, was probably one of the most familiar places to him.
She whispered out his name, much in the way she would to her children when they were young and in need of comfort, reaching over his shield, to place her hand on his upper arm. Her touch was light, but drew his attention, pulling him out of his retrospective daydreams, and back to reality. The smile she offered was both reassuring, and pensive. Offering him an understanding he couldn't get from others. Offering him sympathy, without pity, but with instead, acceptance and reassurance.
"Well, this is a dead end" said Natasha, "Zero heat signatures, zero radio waves. Whoever wrote the file, used a router to through people off"
But Clara shook her head, ever so slightly. If the location was a router, then the person must have wanted to play a sick joke on whoever went looking. Irony and coincidences rarely occurred in the world of espionage. Things were usually perfectly planned, orchestrated, by some man behind a curtain.
Steve, who seemed to be contemplating a similar train of thought to her, narrowed his eyes in on a building across from them, the specifics of it unknown to either Clara or Natasha. But it appeared to be a simple storage facility, nothing of great importance. Though, of course, things are never what they appear to be.
"What?" Natasha asked him, as Steve started moving towards it, Clara's hand dropping back down to her side
"Army regulations forbid storing ammunitions within 500 yards of the barracks" said Steve, causing Clara's eyebrow to raise. Of course Steve would know something like that. "This building's in the wrong place"
Clara and Natasha soon caught up to him, and they all slowed down as they neared the building. Clara, seeing the bolt on the door, reached out her hand, closing her fist before pulling her arm back. The door flew off its hinges, flying a few feet back behind them, landing on the ground.
It was dark as they walked down the steps, the hand railing she used to guide herself was probably not exceedingly sanitary. As they reached the bottom, Clara walked over to the lights, flicking them on, to reveal the room to be filled with desks, the SHIELD insignia painted on the back wall.
"It's SHIELD" said Natasha
"Maybe where it started" suggested Steve, before turning to her, "Did you know about this?"
"No" she said, but Steve's expression told her that he didn't believe her, or at the very least, was second guessing if what she was telling him was the complete truth. "I didn't become a SHIELD agent until the 70's, and Howard and I divorced not long after SHIELD was created" she explained, tilting her head as she looked at him, her eyes wide, and for once, she allowed her face to express just how hurt she was by the mistrust
Steve's face fell, his shoulders hunching over, watching Clara intently as she moved towards the desks, before turning his head away. She knew he had ample reason to be mistrustful of her, but that didn't lessen the blow. In fact, it only made her feel worse, considering Steve had, once upon a time, trusted her immensely. And, even though she'd place her utmost trust in him, she'd never expect, nor advise, him to do the same with her.
The desks in the room each still had a chair by them, but they were covered in dust, clearly unused for many years. It looked almost like everyone has gone home for the day, and just never came back. She looked up as Steve opened a door at the side of the room, looking towards Natasha, who was giving her a concerned look, before following him inside.
Clara hesitated when she saw the picture of Howard hanging up on the wall, beside ones of Peggy and Colonel Phillips, all lopsided, not in a straight line, imperfect. The familiar feeling of being stabbed in the gut came over her, quite like what she felt whenever she looked at Tony for awhile, but thankfully, that feeling had disappeared as they became closer. This, walk down memory lane, was far from pleasant, and felt more like having her heart ripped out a million times over.
"There's Stark's father" said Natasha
"Howard" said Steve
"Who's the girl?" Asked Natasha, nodding towards the picture of Peggy
Steve looked at her, but said nothing, instead he turned around and kept walking. Natasha looked to Clara, but she just shook her head. She wasn't in the mood to explain people from her past, and it seemed like, neither was Steve.
Clara followed Steve down the aisle, watching, from a distance, as he stopped at a shelf, inspecting it.
"If you're already working in a secret office" he said, grabbing onto the shelf and pulling it over, "Why do you need to hide the elevator?"
"Wow, SHIELD's been sly bastards right from the start" said Clara, as they walked down the dark hallway
Natasha scanned the keypad for fingerprints, and when she found the right ones, she punched in the code. The doors opened, to reveal a rather basic looking elevator, but too modern for the setting of the office.
"I'm sorry, for accusing you," Steve said to her, as the walked inside the small elevator
"It's fine" she muttered, and she could tell Steve was about to object, "Really, water under the bridge"
Steve said no more, his eyes flicking towards her every so often, whilst hers were glued on the door in front, silence falling over them, as they continued their descent. Natasha stood awkwardly in the middle of them, eyeing the pair off, trying to catch Clara's attention, but she was not willing to give it.
Things had gotten better between her and Steve after New York. But throw in a few missions, some secrets, and their tentative friendship crumpled under the weight of reality. And the reality was, the past was gone, and neither of them could go back, not matter how much they may want to, and that, in all reflective truth, neither of them were exactly coping with the events of the past seventy years.
The elevator let out a ding, as it reached the bottom, the doors opening. The three of them stepped out of the elevator, it's doors closing behind them, walking out into the dark room.
"Are the lights gonna come on, or will I just have to stumble through the dark like I've had a few tequilas?" She asked, as they walked over grates towards the middle of the room, the lights of the room systematically turning themselves on, "Thank you"
Clara looked around the room, stepping up to the platform, at what looked to be somewhat similar to the first computer.
"This can't be the data point" said Natasha, as they stepped up to the platform, "This technology's ancient"
"I remember when this technology was modern" Clara pointed out, "Actually, I remember when this technology was unimaginable...God, I'm old"
Natasha frowned as she noticed what looked like a USB point, next to the screens. It was in stark comparison with the state of the computers, covered in dust, whilst the USB point was shiny and new, most definitely a recent edition to the room. Natasha hesitated, before pulling out the USB and inserting it. The computers started to light up, the reels beginning to spin, and the camera springing to life.
"Initiate system" said the computer, the words coming up on the screen
"Y-E-S, spells yes" said Natasha, as she typed it into the computer, "Shall we play a game" she growled jokingly, before turning to Steve to explain the reference, "Its from a movie, that was really popular"
"I know, I saw it" said Steve, and both Clara and Natasha grinned at him, but their smiles fell, when the computer spoke
"Rogers, Steven, born 1918" said the computer, a face begginning to appear on the screen, the camera turning towards each of them, and Clara tensed, when she recognised the image, "Howards, Clara, born 1921. Romanoff, Natalia Alianova, born 1984"
It was Zola. The man that had experimentated on Bucky when he'd been held captive. The man, who by means of causation, was directly responsible for the death of her husband.
Her fists instinctively clenched, her knuckles turning white, as she held in her anger, pushing down the power inside her just waiting to be unleashed. Now was not the time. Zola had information they needed. But after he gave it to them. Well, he was free game as far as she was concerned.
"It's some kind of recording" said Natasha
"I am not a recording fräulein" said the computer, "I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am"
"You know this thing?" Natasha asked Steve, her eyes widening
"Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull" explained Steve, the now usual frown on his face, as he walked off the platform, and around to the back of the screens, "He's been dead for years"
"First correction, I am Swiss" said Zola, "Second, look around you, I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science couldn't save my body, my mind however, that was worth saving, on two hundred feet of data banks. You are standing in my brain"
"That's, incredibly creepy" muttered Clara, as Steve stepped back up to the platform
"How did you get here?" He asked
"Invited" he said, and it clicked in her mind
"It was Operation Paperclip" said Clara, frowning at Steve, "SHIELD recruited German scientists, they thought it would hold strategic value. I wasn't involved directly, so I don't know too much about it. No more then what I was told me" she explained, before muttering, "And I certainly wouldn't have supported it if I knew it was him that were recruiting"
"They thought I could help their cause" said a smug Zola, "I also helped my own"
"Hydra died with the Red Skull" said Steve,
"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place" said Zola, the Hydra symbol appearing on the screen, splitting into two
"Prove it" said Steve, and Clara couldn't help but think he would probably regret that later
"Accessing archive" said Zola, as pictures began to appear on the screen, most of them were images of the war, "Hydra was founded on the belief that humans couldn't be trusted with their own freedom. What we did not realise, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist"
"Shocker" muttered Clara, crossing her arms, raising her eyebrow
"The war taught us much, humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly" said Zola, "After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new Hydra grew, a beautiful parasite, inside SHIELD. For seventy years, Hydra has secretly been feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not co-operate, history was changed"
Images of recent events came up on the screen, along with one of a far off figure, but Clara recognised the metal arm. Her chest began to heave, her breathing heavy, as she dropped her arms to her side. This was insane. Hydra was gone. It had to be.
"That's impossible" said Natasha, "SHIELD would've stopped you"
"Accidents will happen" said Zola, as a newspaper article on Howard's death appeared on the screen, followed by an image of Fury
"No" she whispered, snapping her head away from the screens, bracing herself against the desk.
Howard had died in a car crash. She knew it. She'd seen the reports, demanded to read them, against all other advice and her own better judgement. She'd needed to know. But what if Zola was right. SHIELD, no Hydra, could've fabricated the reports, spun a tale of lies, a skill she knew both organisations excelled at. Then SHIELD killed him. The organization he founded, that she had poured her life into, had killed him.
"We created a world so chaotic, that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom, to gain its security" said Zola, as images of Project Insight began to show on the screen, "Once the purifications process is complete, Hydra's new world order will arise. We won, Captain, your death amounts to, the same as your life, a zero sum"
Zola was cut off, as Steve smashed his fist into the screen, straight ingo Zola's viciously smug face, causing the glass to shatter. Upon the sound, Clara finally looked up, to see Steve practically shaking with fury, and the normally calm and collected Natasha looking anything but.
"As I was saying" said Zola, his face appearing on another screen,
"What's on this drive?" demanded Steve
"Project Insight, recquired insight" answered Zola, "So, I wrote an algorithm"
"What kind of algorithm?" Asked Natasha, "What does it do?"
"The answer to your question is fascinating, unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it" said Zola, and Clara's mouth dropped open, her chest heaving, pulse racing. If she had to die, it wouldn't be in the same room as Arnim Zola.
Metal doors slammed shut in front of the elevator, cutting off their only exit. Steve threw his shield at them, but it was too late. They were trapped.
"Steve, we got a bogey" said Natasha, looking down at the tablet, "Short range ballistics, thirty seconds tops"
"Who fired it?" Asked Steve
"SHIELD"
"I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain" said Zola, as Natasha grabbed the USB, "Admit it, Captain, it is better this way" he said, as Steve pulled open the grate, "We are both, out of time"
"Speak for yourself" said Clara, as she jumped down into the open grate
Natasha and Steve both jumped in after her, just as the explosions started. Steve held his shield above him and Natasha, as things around them started to blow up, debris flying through the air.
Clara was only partly covered by the shield, and thus, left herself vulnerable to falling cement. She lifted her hands up, her mind focusing on the objects around her. A rock flew in her direction, but not only did it stop, it was sent flying backwards. She closed her eyes, putting all her energy into keeping up a telekenetic barrier around her.
It worked for awhile, but as her mind began to tire, objects began to get past the barrier. She could feel her body weaken, as she used all her energy just trying to keep out the large objects, letting the smaller ones through, diverting them around her.
When the explosions stopped, Clara outstretched her arms, pushing the cement away, helped along by Steve. After their path had been cleared, Steve helped her out of the grate, before picking up an unconscious Natasha in his arms.
"We've gotta go" Clara told him, spotting the Quinjet not far off
The pair of them starting running, Clara forcing her tired legs to keep going. They finally stopped when they reached a parking lot, Clara telekenitically flicking open the lock of one of the cars. Steve opened the back door, laying Natasha on the back seat.
As Steve turned around, Clara could feel the exhaustion taking over. She pushed herself to her limits, and now she was paying for it. She stumbled, and her last sight, was Steve rushing over to her, before she started falling, and everything went dark.
Hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear what you think.
IMPORTANT: I'd love for you all to check out my story A Series of Occurences, which are a series of one shots featuring Clara. You can find it on my profile.