DISCLAIMER: I don't own Steve Rogers or Nick Fury. They're, sadly, not mine, nor are the rights to any of the Marvel movies.
A/N: Guys. Last. Chapter. I'M FREAKING OUT HERE! Huge, huge, HUGE thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. It means so, so, so much to me. Hugs for everyone! If you don't mind dropping a review, telling me what you thought... ya know... *hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge*
I do not encourageself-harm and/or suicide. They are being used only as literary devices and are never the answer.
Here we go. Brace yourselves.
The man pulled his arm back in shock, taking the syringe with it, and spun around to better see the now broken window.
A man crouched amidst the shards, his body covered in black. The word SHIELD was emblazoned across his back in bright, yellow lettering. A gun rested in a holster, cutting through the "HIE."
He rolled gracefully to his feet and pulled the gun from his back.
The people in the room had frozen when the newcomer burst in, but now, almost as one, began a mad dash toward the nearest exit. The man who had been standing over her made for his desk and began clicking furiously on the computer.
More men, covered in the same black material, came pouring in through the doors, effectively cutting them off.
Miriam didn't want to bring attention to herself, so she sat as still as she could and hardly dared to breathe. The metal around her wrists was weakening. If she could just have another minute…
"There!" one of the men called, his arm raised toward Miriam.
Miriam pulled her wrists harder. She was so, so close…
One of the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblazoned men came darting over to her. She wasn't sure what she was expecting him to do, but it certainly wasn't to pause beside her, raise his gun, and pull the trigger.
Miriam flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, as the bullet left the chamber. But when nothing came smashing into her head, she opened her eyes into slits, then let her eyelids pull back the rest of the way.
The scientist was splayed across the floor, the blood from his head already beginning to pool beneath him. He wasn't pale or stiff-looking, yet. He still looked as if he could jump up and resume his speech about the miracles they'd performed on Miriam– and why it was just too bad that they'd have to terminate her project. In her imagination, he picked himself back up, brushed himself off, and continued to inadvertently explain things to her.
But, this was the real world and her dreams were only that– her dreams.
Miriam was sorry to see him go.
"Miss Yager," the man greeted her, giving a curt nod.
Miriam didn't acknowledge him. She felt her feet pull free of her bonds. Finally.
Around her, the scientists were lifting their hands in surrender. Some of them were terrified, others defiant. Most of them simply seemed confused. Miriam was one of them.
"You're safe now," the man beside her added. If she'd been able to see his eyes, she would've been sure they were having trouble leaving her own.
The men in black began handcuffing the scientists and leading them away. This created a flurry of activity that allowed Miriam to yank her wrists free and bolt for the window.
She heard guns cock. She sensed them turn toward her.
It wasn't that she was afraid of the guns, nor was it that she feared being shot, –that'd happened to her once today, already– it was simply that she didn't fancy being shot so many times at once. Besides, Miriam couldn't be sure of the extent of what she could do. The men marked S.H.I.E.L.D. had killed her only way of finding out.
"Freeze!" The command was short and filled with authority.
Miriam obliged. She turned slowly, her hands above her. The metal bonds twinkled like jewelry in the light. "I'm not one of them," she told them, her voice a perfect imitation of frozen water.
"We know," one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. men assured her.
Miriam blinked once, a deer in headlights. "Then why are your guns pointed at me?"
"Because you're like me." The statement was issued from across the room, by a man in a red, white, and blue outfit. There was no insignia across his back, which made Miriam relax a bit. He was tall, –very tall– incredibly muscular, and everything about him radiated strong. He moved with long, sure steps. He reminded Miriam of herself.
Miriam tossed her hair indignantly. "No one's like me," she replied, her voice unwavering, but still sad and broken.
The star-spangled stranger approached her cautiously, ignoring the guns now pointed at his back. "Not the same serum," he said, "but virtually the same effects."
Miriam looked him up and down, her eyes gradually filling with wonder. "But–"
"Steve Rogers," he said, his hand extended.
Miriam shook. He grasp was firm and strong. Painful, even, to the average person. But Miriam wasn't average. She felt the strength flowing through him– the same strength that flowed through her, now.
She looked up at him and caught his eye. He looked young, but his eyes were old and sorrowful. She saw the utility belt strapped to his thighs and the shield on his back. She saw the way he stood out among these uniformed men, a beam of light in the dark.
"How does that explain the guns, then?" Miriam inquired, dropping his hand.
Steve Rogers looked uncomfortable. "You're also like one of my friends–"
"Bruce Banner," Miriam guessed, remembering the name the dead man had dropped, "The green monster."
He nodded. "We're just being careful," he assured her.
Miriam would've liked to be mad– to find this distrust enraging. But she didn't. She remembered the receptionist– how she'd snapped. These men were right to be wary.
"Who are you?" she asked, trying to ignore the barrels aimed at her.
"Steve Rogers," he repeated, "I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.," he gestured to the men around them, "The people here worked a group called Hydra. They've been experimenting…" he trailed off, staring at her as she were a bad omen, "Looks like it worked."
"I'm not going to hurt anyone," Miriam pleaded, "Tell them to put the guns down."
Steve regarded her for a moment, before consenting.
"Thank you." With that, Miriam spun and vaulted out the window.
She heard shouts as she hit the pavement, but she didn't stop.
Running was what she was good at.
She heard a thud as someone followed her out the window. As she sped around a corner, she caught a glimpse of the red, white, and blue man, hot on her tail.
Miriam was fast. But Steve, after more than a lifetime of training, was faster.
"On your left," Steve huffed, as he came up beside her. Then, he turned, grabbed Miriam by the cuffs on her wrists, and pulled her to the ground. He landed on top of her and his weight held her down against the concrete sidewalk. This particular area was blessedly empty of pedestrians. "We don't want to hurt you," he promised her.
"Do you point guns at everyone you don't want to hurt?" Miriam asked rhetorically.
"Do you see a gun, now?" he inquired, struggling to catch her eye, "Look at me. No gun."
Miriam looked him up and down. He was right, of course. He carried no gun. He probably didn't need it.
"We've been watching you," he told her, his words coming rapidly and flowing together, "ever since we found out what they were doing–"
"Why didn't you stop them sooner?" Miriam demanded through her teeth.
"We didn't know until you escaped," Steve said, "Agent Smith –you know him– John Smith got to you first."
"John Smith?" Miriam repeated, "I knew that couldn't be his name."
Steve smirked. "It is, actually. He got to you, kept you safe–"
"He kept me safe?" Miriam repeated Steve again, "I was keeping him safe!"
"Right– yeah, okay. Not the point. Either way, you're safe now." He finally caught her eye. "You're safe."
"And you're on top of me," Miriam quipped, to cover her wheeling mind. John Smith had seemed so ordinary… But why else had he invited her into his home? Stupid, she chastised herself, Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Steve rolled off of her and helped her up.
For a second, before he was off of her, Miriam had been tempted to see if she could throw him off of herself, and if she could, how far he'd go. But, if these people really didn't want to hurt her, she wasn't about to break whatever trust they'd put in her.
"So now what?" Miriam asked, brushing herself off and attempting to maintain some dignity.
Steve pointed at a eye-patch wearing man, in a long coat, heading their way. "You talk to him."
"Talk to who?" But Steve Rogers was already walking away, rejoining the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
The eye-patch man came up to her, observed her with his good eye, and spoke in few words. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Yager."
Miriam eyed him warily. "Whatdya want?"
"To offer you a job," Eye-patch man answered.
The last time Miriam had heard those words, this whole mess had began. She took a step back and kept her gaze on his hands, searching for signs that he was about to inject her with something.
"With us," Eye-patch man went on, "If you're willing, of course."
Miriam drew her gaze upward and fixed it on his good eye. "I don't even know who you are."
"Nick Fury," he stated, "Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Good for you." Miriam wasn't impressed.
Nick Fury wasn't fazed. "Do you know how many other people there are, like you?" he asked.
Miriam shook her head.
"I don't know either," he said, "But the ones I do know about make a hell of a difference in our world."
"John said that," Miriam realized, "He was always going on about how I'm a hero."
"Are you?" Nick Fury queried, his head slightly tilted.
Miriam cast her eyes down once more. "No."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Nick Fury replied. He waited.
Miriam made no response.
"It's your choice, of course," Nick Fury continued, "whether you join us or not."
Miriam hesitated a split second, before making her choice. "Not."
If her refusal affected Nick Fury at all, he didn't show it. "Very well." He began to walk back toward the building, but paused across the street. "My offer stands," he called.
Miriam pretended not to hear and walked briskly away.
A light mist began, as she pushed the door to her apartment building open. She stood for a moment, as it began to pick up and turn into real rain, staring up at the sky.
The threat of the facility –Hydra– was gone. S.H.I.E.L.D. would leave her alone. Life could go back to normal. And that was good.
She went inside.
-l-l-l-l-l-
Steve Rogers was a soldier. Fighting for the good guys. Someday, maybe Miriam Yager would join him. But not yet.
Not yet.
