SHADOW


CHAPTER 8


The tall, muscular blonde man standing in the doorway looks amused at Sam's obvious pleasure over the media's ridiculously hyperbolic nickname for him.

It's weird seeing Steve Rogers in a normal button-down shirt. I'm somehow expecting the works: the shield, the helmet…the dodgy spandex. He's surprisingly polite considering his muscle mass is probably tripe that of a regular guys. He also possesses this grandpa, old-school geniality that my Mom loves so much.

Captain America's eyes slide from Sam to me, and I have to physically restrain myself from raising my eyebrows as he reaches out and shakes my hand. "I don't think we've met. Steve Rogers."

I glance at Sam sceptically. He just smirks at me like he knows what I'm thinking. "Yeah, I – er – know who you are." I'm slightly distracted. Bizarrely, all I can think as I look at Steve is that my Mom is going to kill me if I come away without his autograph…Then it hits me that I have just been reading about Steve in Bucky's file: they grew up together in the 1930s. Bucky knows he should remember Steve, but he can't quite. I remember the brain re-calibration and the ECT that Bucky is currently being subjected to and I slip my hand out of Steve's grip as soon as seems polite.

After an awkward pause, Sam nudges me in the ribs in a way that says smile! I reflexively scowl. This is a response bred out of a year attempting to drown my memories by drinking beers in divey bars and drunk middle-aged men yelling at me to smile darlin'! It might never happen.

Actually, dickhead, it did.

Sam roles his eyes at my response. "She's S.H.I.E.L.D," he explains to Steve, "- kind of explains the:" (he makes an exaggerated pouty frown that makes me look like a moody child).

"Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D," I throw back at him, nettled. "I literally just explained that to you."

Steve now looks at me with greater interest. "Really? What's your name?"

"…Alex."

"Tsvetkov?"

I fold my arms suspiciously, automatically squaring up to him. "How did you know?"

"Natasha told me about one of Fury's ex-agents breaking in to the high-security ward of the hospital."

"- Yeah," interjects Sam. "And you just about fit her description. All banged up. Small. Brown hair…terrible attitude."

"Thanks," I deadpan, but Steve cuts across us. He speaks mildly, but there is an undercurrent of steel lacing his voice.

"…Nat didn't seem to think you were a threat, and I trust her judgement – but I mean this sincerely: you hurt Bucky, you answer to me."

It takes a while for what he has said to sink in, but when it does I let out a dry bark of a laugh. "I'm sorry, have you seen what he did to my face?"

"I don't mean physically."

"Then what do you mean?"

Sam and Steve exchange a quick glance. "…He's confused," says Steve slowly, pain tightening the corners of his eyes. "It's going to be hard for him – readjusting to being him. Just…go easy on him."

I snort. "Who said I was ever going to see him again."

"Fury."

The name is enough to make my whole body tense. "I rejected that offer," I say, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "I rejected that programme. I said I wasn't going to do it. I –" I stop abruptly, because there are no more words. It was simple: I had said no. I take a deep breath to calm myself, realising how easy it is for Fury to get under my skin.

Steve spreads his hands. "He sees something in you Alex."

"But this is my choice. Why can't he leave me alone?"

"It is…" says Steve, as if choosing his words carefully. "You can turn and walk away from this, if you wanted. I don't always agree with S.H.I.E.L.D, either. But what I do know about Fury is he knows how to pick a team – even –" he adds, with a wry smiles, "- if they don't get along at first. He knows you better than you think. And he knows how to use other people to bring out your best qualities. Enhance your strengths. Cover your weaknesses."

"And he honestly thinks Bucky is that person for me?" I appeal to Sam rather than Steve. "You've seen what war does to people. I…I just need some stability in my life right now. I need the – the opposite of what they're offering."

Sam pinches his chin, thinking. "You know what soldiers in my sessions always bitch about most when they arrive home? That nobody here understands. Their partners can't understand. Their friends can't understand. No-one can relate to what it's like to see a landmine detonate under the car in front of you, or what it feels like to see a buddy get shot. Yeah, you can tell them – but words are never really good enough. They can't feel what you felt. So you feel lonely…isolated. Part of you actually wants to go back to the war because it was simpler than what you're living through now –"

I can't look away from Sam. Nobody has spoken to me like this before – not Doctor Quick, not my Mom or Nick Fury. I feel a kind of release as Sam speaks my fears and feelings aloud for me. He reaches out and punches my arm, as if to coax me into cheering up.

"…at the end of the day, Alex, you just need a friend."

I give him a grimace. "And all my problems are magically solved?"

"No, but you feel like you could have a life again." Sam claps Steve on the shoulder. Steve's been looking vaguely haunted since Sam started talking, but this brief moment of physical contact drags him back to the present. I realise that not only has Sam been giving me advice – he has spoken from experience: he has been that friend for Steve.

"Well," winks Sam. "I gotta fly – pun intended."

"Yeah – okay," I reply, distractedly. I watch as Sam fist-bumps a slightly bemused Steve.

"You still on for tonight, man?"

Steve rolls his eyes good naturedly. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nah. You have to taste a McDonalds, dude. It's like an American rite of passage." Sam turns on me. "What about you, Shades? You wanna come?"

I never normally say yes to…anything, but somehow I find myself agreeing.

I follow the two men outside the building, standing at the top of the old, flag stone steps. The day is still clear and sunny. In front of us is a freshly-mown park and beyond that the river, sparking in the mid-day sun.

"I'll see you two tonight at 7.30," Steve says. And just like that he vaults over a stone plinth that holds a gigantic statue of a sleeping lion, dropping down to the level below us.

"Whoa," I exclaim, reflexively glancing over the railings to watch as Steve casually strolls across the grass to where an old-fashioned motorbike is parked, his hands deep in the pockets of his corduroy jeans. "He just jumped like twenty feet."

"Yeah, you'll get used to that," says Sam, moving to stand next to me.

"I'm going to do it," I make my mind up – so suddenly it takes even me by surprise. Workers are lounging round on their lunch-breaks – tourists dawdling and snapping photographs. "I'm going to help him." We both know I mean Bucky.

"May I ask what – or who – changed your mind?" asks Sam, a smug smirk gracing his face as he bends down and braces his forearms on the handrail.

"Nothing in particular," I deadpan, putting my sunglasses back on.

"You won't regret this, Alex."

I blow out a long breath. "I really, really hope not."

"And if anything happens – me and Steve have your back."

"Unless I hurt Bucky," I correct, smirking slightly at the idea. "Then Steve'll kick my ass."

Sam tilts his head in agreement. "True."

My smile fades and I lean my back against the plinth so that I am looking Sam directly in the eye. "Hey, Sam…do you and Steve know why S.H.I.E.L.D laid me off?"

"Well, they didn't go into details, but if I absolutely had to guess I'd say it was something to do with PTSD."

"…No one's said anything to you?"

"Hey, it's none of my business, right?" I nod to myself, slowly, and Sam adds carefully: "…But… if you wanted to come to another one of my meetings, we meet same place, same time every Saturday. I operate on a, uh, open-door policy so it doesn't matter if you're a soldier or a spy. Anyone's welcome."

"Your leaflet says Iraqi veterans," I point out.

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, Alex, but the world's changin'. War ain't what it used to be. I mean, after New York I think we're goin' to have to get used to some serious, like, inter-galactic shit."

"And here I was hoping the aliens were a one-time thing."

Sam snorts, but just as he is about to reply, my phone beeps in my pocket. I check my messages…and my smile freezes on my face.

FURY LEAKING INFORMATION ABOUT BUCKY TO FLUSH OUT REMAINING HYDRA AGENTS. BE PREPARED FOR AN ATTACK IN THE NEXT FEW DAYS. – NATASHA

As soon as I've read that one, another message appears.

I LIKE YOUR JACKET.

I look up from the screen with a disbelieving expression, only to see her standing across the road, her red hair blowing out in the wind. She smirks mischievously as she waves at me, phone in hand.


A/N Edited 6/5/2018

I hope you guys like the interaction between Alex, Sam and Steve here. This is a pretty character-driven story and it's going to revolve around Alex's relationships and interactions with a lot of these canon characters. This story will cover the events of Age of Ultron, although we've got a while until we hit that point yet.

Last Of The Lilac Wine