I grabbed onto the sleeve of his uniform, and I was strong enough to hold him in place. I practically stamped my foot in frustration. "Steve, I want to help you!"
Steve wrenched his arm away and grabbed onto my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "You can't fly anymore, Katie! There's no way for you to get up there, and I'm not risking your safety. If you want to help, stay in the Triskelion and try and keep the Helicarriers grounded, alright?"
After almost a full minute of glaring at one another, I finally nodded, and Steve let go of me. He had spent the last hour going over the plan and perfecting it—I was going to have a bigger part to play until I mentioned the Angel's instability. I hadn't had an issue in a few weeks, I'd explained, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't make an appearance. As soon as I'd revealed that bit of information, Steve had all but cut me from the roster.
"Alright." Sam glanced between the two of us, raising an eyebrow. "Now that that's settled…"
"We leave in half an hour," Natasha interrupted, glancing between the three of us. Fury watched us from his hospital bed as though we were his favorite television show. "Katie," she turned to me. "Come with me."
~8~
Turns out that sneaking into Shield would be harder than we had expected. Well, not for the others. They would be blowing their way through every entrance and taking over the Triskelion by force. I would be infiltrating the lower levels, listening for anyone who was tuned into Hydra'a radio signal on my way down to the hangar.
Natasha had used our last half our of hiding to wash the dark dye out of my hair. We wanted people to go after me and provide a distraction; and after what happened at the bridge, we knew people would be after me. The bridge.
My heart clenched, and I glanced over at my brother again. He had found out that James was alive. And James had given him the same response he'd given me so long ago. 'Who the hell is Bucky?'
"Are you in position?" Maria's voice cut into my thoughts as I strode through the bustling halls, walking with purpose towards the lower levels: Steve told me that the Strike and Insight teams were Hydra. Might as well start scratching off names. Deep within me, the Angel stretched, ready for a fight.
"I am," I said smoothly, stepping around a tall, muscular man with a dark crew cut. My stomach clenched. He was the man from the bridge, the one who had threatened to shoot me in order to subdue my brother. He did a double take when he saw me, and I kept walking, feeling his gaze on the back of my head. My palms started to sweat. I wasn't ready to engage, not yet. Not until my brother gave the alarm.
"Agent," the man called. I kept walking. "Agent," he growled with far more force than before. I stopped walking, and a familiar energy began to surge through my body. "Turn around."
I grabbed a knife as I spun around, ready to lunge at the man—and he was pointing a gun at my head. I froze, growling.
"I thought so," he chuckled. His voice was rough, like sandpaper. "Did Captain America really send in a little girl to do his dirty work?"
I tilted my head a little, my smile feral. "Did Pierce finally let his dog off its leash?"
Instead of being agitated like I hoped he would, he laughed. "Oh, I remember you now," he controlled himself. He seemed to enjoy having someone at his mercy, someone waiting for him to fire a bullet and end their life. "Your time at Hydra may have started before mine, but I still remember seeing the footage." He threw his head back and laughed. I was frozen. "How many times did you fight him?" he asked me. "Your James?" My breath caught in my throat. "I watched you, you know. You screamed for him. You begged him to remember you. I was with him yesterday," he added softly, cocking the gun. "He remembered you—he asked about you. And we wiped him."
Something inside me snapped. I dove under his gun, going momentarily deaf as it went off right above my head. I slammed into him at full force, combining the strength of the Angel and of myself. My shoulder was shoved down right before I ran him into the wall, and when he crumpled, I went down with him. We grappled on the floor, rolling around, both of us throwing and receiving punches until I finally managed to knock him out.
I stood up, popping my back, and doubled over, collapsing to one knee. What happened? I tried frantically to peer over my shoulder, and I reached around to touch it with my other hand.
"Katie, what's happening?" Steve was frantic.
I just got shot. I just got shot. I just got shot.
"Nothing important." I sagged against the wall, biting back a scream. I panted and started down the hall, turning left at the end of it. I have to finish the mission. I gasped and stumbled, and then someone was holding me up, lowering me to the ground. They rested my back against the wall, and I blinked blearily up at them.
My heart stopped.
"You're dead," I whispered, staring up at him in shock.
Eli shook his head, staring at me in concern as he pressed a wad of cloth to the wound in my back. "Not quite."
I pulled away, staring wide-eyed at the man before me, and fell back onto the floor. "Don't touch me!"
"Katie? Katie, what's wrong?"
"Eli—" I gasped, pushing back until my back hit the wall.
"What? Katie, Eli's dead—"
Eli Barton went after me, trying to help, but I pushed him away. Warning bells were going off in my head, and I threw him back when he tried to get closer. The Angel came to my aid, and the energy from the strike sent the man reeling back into the opposite wall. Far behind him, I saw a man in all black cut across the hallway.
"Steve, Rumlow's back up—he's coming your way," I gasped, shaking my head, trying to clear it. Too many things were warring inside me—grief over James, confusion and fear over Eli, and always the struggle to control the Angel. "Eli's not dead, he's here—"
A darkness shadowed Eli's face, and he fought me harder, no longer simply intent on calming me down—he wanted to subdue me. He had a knife in his hands. "Katie, stop it—"
Something was wrong. Rage turned my vision red. I dodged him, barely, but felt his hand close on my upper arm as I fell, jerking it back behind me. I screamed as I started blacking out, and I crumpled to the ground as Eli held a damp rag to my face, knocking me unconscious.
~8~8~
The next time I woke up, I was alone. Trees surrounded me, blocking out any sound of the city. Leaves and pine straw carpeted the ground. The sky was overcast, but bright, and wind rustled the leaves.
I moved to stand and fell back with a weak cry. I pushed my hair back from my forehead and found it to be matted with blood and leaves, dripping with it. A few memories came back, like the one of being shot, but I had no idea how I'd gotten here—or why I was completely covered in blood: my clothes were soaked with it, my hair was matted down, blonde turned the color of rust, and it was spattered across my skin and caked beneath my nails.
Only one thing could have done this: the Angel. I remembered Coulson's words—she'd torn the soldiers apart. Had I done the same to Eli?
I stood shakily, panting, and listened for my comms—only to find that it was gone; it had been taken from me. I started walking on trembling legs, trying not to think about what I knew had likely happened. Guilt built up inside of me till I felt like I would collapse.
Eli had appeared, somehow, and had tried to attack me. Instead of knocking me unconscious, he had completely leveled the barriers that held the Angel in check, and… I swallowed and stared down at my hands. The blood on my skin was dry, although my clothes were still damp and the liquid still dripped down my forehead and ears. If anyone saw me… I had no idea what they'd think.
About the time my clothes dried, I exited the woods to find myself on the bank of a river—and my brother was lying on the edge, half in the water, unconscious and bleeding.
"Steve!"
I rushed to him and pulled him out of the water, getting soaked in the process. Much of the blood that had soaked through my clothing became wet again, although some of it washed off. Something kept pulling me off balance, dragging me back into the water, but I was too out-of-sorts to realize what it was.
"Oh God." I seized my brother's earpiece and spoke into it. "Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Please, I need help!" I looked around wildly, but there was no one around. Everywhere around us, there was devastation. Smoke billowed from multiple locations, and debris was everywhere. Whatever had happened while I was unconscious must have been bad.
"Who is this?"
I almost burst into tears. "Natasha? It's Katie. Natasha, Steve's hurt—"
"You disappeared for hours, Katie, what happened? Where are you?"
"We're on the back of some river, I don't know where we are—Natasha, please, he's been shot—" I examined him quickly, "At least twice, he was stabbed, his face—" his face was swollen almost beyond recognition, and I wanted to throw up. "He's lost so much blood—"
She interrupted me. "Are you okay?"
"I—" I stared down at my bloody hands and felt a dim feeling of surprise that I didn't feel the pain of the gunshot wound I'd received. "I got shot."
Natasha swore. "We've triangulated your location and are on our way," she told me. "Stay where you are."
I sank back beside Steve and put pressure on the most severe of his wounds—a bullet had passed straight through his stomach. "I need you to stay with me," I whispered, choking back a sob. "Please, stay with me."
I knew in my heart who had done this, and it wasn't Rumlow. It wasn't Eli, either—there was little doubt in my mind that Eli was, finally, dead. There was only one person I knew of who was strong enough to have been able to have done something like this—besides the Angel, that is, and I knew that she never would have attacked our brother—and who Steve would have allowed to do it. James. His Bucky.
I did start crying then; hot, thick tears streamed down my face, washing lines through the blood that had dried there—at some point, my healing had finally closed all the little cuts in my face from the glass, because my cheek wasn't burning anymore; I always healed faster when the Angel was in control. The Angel. Somehow she could differentiate between friend and foe, like with James.
James. My fiancé, my best friend—he was still under Hydra's control. Only a few weeks ago he'd been ordered to kill me, but he hadn't—and Rumlow said he'd remembered me.
And they'd wiped him. Because of me? Because of Steve? Because he'd started becoming himself again?
A small voice in my heart answered. Yes. I knew that. I'd always known it. Hell, I'd experienced it for myself—the instant someone tried to get out from under Hydra's thumb, they'd strip them of their identity.
A footprint on the ground nearby caught my attention. Whomever it belonged to was heavy and injured—and had dragged my brother out of the water. Hope rose within me, and I stood shakily, looking around at the tree line. I didn't see him, and I hadn't met him in the woods, so it was likely that he'd been long gone by the time I got here. At the same time…
I tried to stand, but was dragged back. I finally looked over my shoulder to see why, and I pitched to the side, landing in the water with a splash, in complete shock. I had wings again. I had wings again. I had wings again. How? How was this possible? It couldn't be possible—there was no way—
Eli. He had to have done something, something to change me—he had told me once that he was gifted, that he was like me. Had he healed me? I started the scrub the blood from my arms and was horrified to find that all the scars I'd ever received were gone—the large burn I'd gotten in the 60s was gone—the bullet wound I'd received hours before was gone.
"What happened to me?" I crawled out of the water, too weak to try and stand. Did butterflied feel like this after they made it out of their cocoon? Weak and fragile and lopsided—because their bodies had been changed and recreated and now they had wings, and they were free, but it didn't make sense, because how could it make sense?
They can't see me like this. I stood on shaky legs and started walking, then running—when my wings dried, I took to the air. I called Clint when I made it far enough away from D.C.—no one was looking at the sky anymore, there was too much carnage on the ground to interest the civilians who might have seen me.
Clint was at home, wherever home was. He told me where to meet him, and meet him I did—I flew for days until I reached the location he gave me. He was waiting for me when I landed. He walked up to me and embraced me like family when I reached him. I welcomed the contact but at the same time wanted to pull away, hide beneath a rock. What I had done to Eli… "Hey Katie," he smiled down at me, smile lines visible even though his eyes were covered. "It's good to see you again." He looked over me, and his eyes widened at a realization. "Your wings—"
"It's good to see you too," I murmured. I was too exhausted to summon a smile. I was been awake for almost four days without sleep, fueled completely by adrenaline and fear. Those was wearing off quickly. "It's a long story."
Sweat coated my skin and dampened my hair. Blood was still caked under my fingernails, though I had washed the rest of it out of my hair and clothes. Clint noticed my grey pallor and ushered me forward. "C'mon," he murmured. "We've got to fly some more, but it'll be worth it."
"Where are we going?" I asked him tiredly, leaning against his shoulder as he walked me towards the airport. A quinjet was waiting on the runway. His arm rested on my shoulders, and he helped lead me forward. I had barely enough energy to walk. I wondered if he'd help me if he knew what I'd done.
"A safe house," he answered softly.
We didn't speak again until I was settled inside the jet, curled up on one of the seats. The inside of the jet was plain—a few seats, parachutes tucked away in their compartments, and everything was clean. Clint noticed me looking around and informed me that the jet had previously belonged to Shield. He had received it as payment for a favor. He informed me that yes, he knew that Shield had fallen—and no, he didn't know anything about my brother.
"Get some sleep," he demanded gently, covering me with a blanket. I was curled in a ball, barely able to keep my eyes open. Clint helped strap me in so I wouldn't go flying around the plane as soon as we made a sharp turn. "I'll wake you when we land."
I was asleep before he reached the cockpit.
~8~8~8~
I woke up screaming. Clint was on his knees in front of me—a few feet away, granted, but in front of me all the same—trying to wake me up. I was hyperventilating, choking on my breath. I was soaked with sweat and shaking so horribly that I could barely function.
"Katie? Listen to me. You're okay. You're okay."
I finally focused on him. "Clint—it was—it was—it—" I shut my eyes, trying to calm down—I couldn't remember what I'd been dreaming about.
"We're touching down in a few minutes and I need to land the plane. Just relax. You'll get your rest soon."
I didn't answer. I stayed frozen where I was until we landed. When Clint appeared in front of me, I almost had a heart attack. Those grey eyes were so familiar—Eli had them too… and I had killed him, I was almost sure of it. His blood was caked beneath my fingernails. "We're here," he breathed. "Come on."
He helped me up and supported me as I walked, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and one of his around my waist. We exited the quinjet and started walking. We were in the middle of a field. I looked around, seeking for a distraction. There were mountains in the distance, woods everywhere except where we were. The sun was close to rising, and mist swirled gently around the trees. The world was new and fresh and clean, everything was resting in shades of dusky blue and shadowy green. The birds hadn't woken yet, and crickets and frogs were chorusing in the woods.
We travelled down a path in the woods and emerged on the edge of another meadow, in the center of which rested a house and a barn. Smoke was twisting up from the chimney of the white farmhouse. "Safe house," Clint murmured, a small smile on his face.
Went we reached the front porch, I almost collapsed, unable to stand anymore. Clint picked me up and carried me inside. He set me down in a small room on a large bed—and the first word that came to mind to describe the feel of it was 'safe'.
"Where am I?" I asked him, peering up at him. My throat was raw, my voice scratchy and weak.
"You're at my farm."
"This is your house?" A bolt of fear swept through me. Did Clint have a family? I wasn't so much worried about Clint—he could take the Angel down if need be. But a wife and kids… they might not be able to get away if the Angel attacked. "Do you live here alone?"
A knock on the door answered my question. A thin, pretty, brunette woman stood in the doorway, smiling softly down at me. A pair of big brown eyes peered around her legs. "Hello," she said softly, moving into the room. She rested her hands on Clint's shoulders, and he visibly relaxed.
I blinked, my confused mind sluggishly piecing together the detail of what was happening. "You… you're Clint's wife?" The child with the brown eyes scampered off, and his shrieks were joined by the bubbly laughter of a smaller girl. I couldn't risk entering into any situation in which the Angel would be brought to light. Although at the moment, she seemed just as shell-shocked and pained as I was, because I couldn't sense her at all.
"Laura," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. I hesitantly took it, ashamed at the dirt and blood on my hands touching her clean skin. "What's your name?"
"Katherine," I answered, choosing my full name in favor of my nickname. Eli had called me Katie. For right now, I wanted to distance myself from that name. "Katherine Rogers."
"It's very nice to meet you, Katherine," Laura smiled again. "I'm glad you're here. Stay as long as you need." She bent and pressed her lips against Clint's temple. My heart clenched, and my fingers twitched against the covers. James. "I'm going to start dinner." She lifted her dark eyes to meet mine. "Get cleaned up; I'll put some clothes out for you, alright?"
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
Clint showed me to the bathroom, which was across the hall from my borrowed room, and showed me where everything was—towels, washcloths, soap, shampoo. I spent more than an hour curled in the bottom of the shower, my wings draped over the edge of the tub. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw, using up an entire bar of soap on my fingernails and hands alone, digging my nails into the bar and scraping them across it to get the soap wedged beneath them.
I thought about the scars I'd received, the ones that were all gone. Many I remembered I receiving, more I did not. The one I'd gotten in the 60s, when James tried to rescue me. The man bullet and knife wounds I'd received over the years. All gone, wiped away as though they'd never existed. How?
I turned the water off and climbed into a towel, drying off. I chanced a look in the mirror and swallowed tightly. I didn't recognize the girl who looked back at me. On the outside, she was flawless—physically fit, without a single scar or blemish. It was her eyes that terrified me.
I had thought I was broken before. Now… I had killed someone I had loved. That had always been a line I had refused to cross. Now, thanks to the Angel…
I took a deep breath. I had to tell Clint. Soon. But not now—tomorrow, when Laura wasn't around to hear me. She reminded me of my own mother—and because of that, I didn't want her to be disappointed in me, to hate me.
"I'm sorry, Clint," I whispered, watching my reflection tear up, eyes turning pink from the strain of holding back tears. I sucked in a deep breath, my chest heaving and my shoulders shaking. I didn't know how Eli had come to be alive, but it didn't matter. He wasn't anymore. "I'm so sorry."
My hands gripped the countertop tightly, but nothing happened—nothing shattered, nothing cracked, not like the other times. I looked up, eyes widening in my reflection, and I turned and slammed my fist against the tile. Nothing happened to the tile, although pain exploded in my hand.
As I cradled my hand, I understood something—the reason why I hadn't felt the Angel. She wasn't shocked. She wasn't biding her time. Somehow, when I had been healed of all my physical injuries, I'd been healed of my mental ones as well.
The Angel was gone.
