"Puppet. Where's Bucky?"
"Unavailable," he said without meeting my eyes.
"What have you done to him?" Steve snarled, and I heard him take a step forwards, though I didn't look round at him. Puppet glared at him.
"Puppet," I repeated carefully, "what happened?" Slowly, his focus left Steve and slipped back to me.
"He's too small," Puppet said. I clenched my teeth and tried not to snap at him, but he could tell. "When..." His eyes flicked away, towards the door, and I remembered how Bucky had trembled after Iron Man had blasted past the window. "He, I don't know, it set something off. He freaked out. And now he's hiding. He's too small," he repeated, and my eyes burned.
"Can't you talk to him?" Puppet gave me a look that clearly said he thought I was being an idiot.
"One. He doesn't listen to me."
"Yes he does. He can't stop listening to you," I objected, but he ignored me.
"Two. Why would I?" I just scowled at him for that one. "Three. No. He's... hiding. Armoured. It's like there's a wall between us."
"Is it like before? When there was just you?" I asked sharply, but he shook his head.
"No. He's still in here. Before, there was nothing." He looked up at Steve. "I didn't even know he existed. Until you said his name." I looked sideways, and could almost see the line connecting their eyes as they stared at each other. "On the highway, that was when he first came back. When you looked for him."
"He came back," Steve said, and it was as if he didn't know he'd spoken. Puppet nodded.
"It was like... getting shot, from inside. One moment there was nothing, then he was there, and there wasn't enough room for both of us, and I had to push him away." Puppet's eyes flickered. "I shot you." Steve choked on a mirthless laugh, and shook his head.
"No. Natasha shot at you. You disappeared."
"Oh." There was a slight pause. "I did shoot you though. On the helicarrier." Tony scoffed and turned on his heel, walking out of sight. Steve glanced between us, his eyes lingering on Puppet, then followed him. I did my best not to listen to their raised voices, though we both held our silence until they'd faded away.
"What now?" Puppet asked me. I turned away and began to shove things randomly into my backpack. I hadn't let my possessions wander far; I'd never expected to stay long. But I didn't answer his question.
"Puppet, why did you go off at Tony?" I asked, without turning back to look at him. "Why did you let them know about you? They wouldn't have realised, if you hadn't pulled a gun on Steve." I finally turned back to find him watching me with those unreadable eyes.
"And how long would I have had to hide?" he challenged me. "Just pretend to be him every time he freaks out?" He shook his head. "They erased Bucky, and I came instead. I've been here for nearly 70 years, doesn't that count for anything?"
"I think it counts for a hell of a lot," I said calmly. "But you haven't answered my question." He looked away.
"I wasn't... I didn't know he was going to freak out like that," he said eventually.
"You weren't expecting it."
"And then Stark came in... He does look like his father. And it was like being back there, and doing it all over again." His eyes flicked back to mine. "It all came back." I frowned.
"You didn't remember doing it?" Puppet shook his head, frustrated.
"There were so many. I remember them all, I just... don't think on them much."
"Do you regret it?" I asked bluntly and his eyes snapped back to mine. For a moment I didn't think he was going to answer me.
"I don't know," he said at last. "What does regret feel like?" I scoffed.
"Do you wish you hadn't done it?"
"No," he replied at once. "If I hadn't done it, I would be dead." We stared at each other for a second. "It was never a choice Beth," he said, his voice low. "It wasn't like I..." He took a breath. "It was all I'd ever known, all they'd ever taught me."
"Murder." I didn't mean to say the word, it just slipped out, let loose into the world, and I would never be able to take it back. Puppet's eyes hardened at once.
"Yes. Murder. I killed more people than I care to count. I killed from a mile away, and from within inches. With a knife, a gun, a car, an explosion. I made it look like an accident, suicide, hate crime, or exactly what it was. I killed the old and the young. And I never, ever questioned it." I turned away, snatching up my hairbrush and throwing it roughly towards the backpack. By some fluke, it went straight in.
"Did you really shoot Steve?" I asked, without looking round.
"Yes," he confirmed. "More than once."
"What happened?"
"He still completed his mission. And came back."
"To save you."
"To save Bucky," he corrected.
"And then?" A slight pause.
"We saved him." We. I smiled while my face was hidden, only turning back when I was sure the grin had gone. With my expression blank again, I crossed the room for the final time and slung my backpack over one shoulder.
"What now?" Puppet asked again, and this time, I answered him.
"We leave," I said, and his eyes immediately darted to the doorway. "We help Bucky, and we wait for them to catch up."
"You think they'll follow?" His voice was doubtful, and I shook my head.
"Do you think Steve will just let you walk away? Let Bucky walk away?" He gave a half-shrug of acceptance and I nodded. "Let's get your stuff."
"Got it all," he said, then grinned at my sceptical face. "I think that bit came from Bucky, when he was in the army. He learned not to hold onto things." I offered him a half-smile, then lead the way back towards the others, and the lift out.
.
.
Four sets of eyes fixed on us as we emerged. Tony is the first to look away, turning resolutely back to the tablet in his hands within seconds. I didn't even bother to glare at the back of his head. But before I could turn away, he spoke up.
"What the hell is this?" Sam, Steve, Puppet and I all looked at him in askance, though he didn't turn round. I noticed that Natasha's eyes stayed on Puppet. Meanwhile, Tony had finally turned and was holding up his tablet to show the room. I narrowed my eyes to see what was on the small screen.
"It looks like a playlist," I said, and knew at once what it must be. Tony scowled.
"Yes, I know that," he snapped, before turning the screen back again, and staring down at it in disgust. "But honestly..."
"Seriously?" I let out a laugh. "Out of everything, you're going to object to my music taste? Well that makes it easier. Next time I'll just put in more Black Sabbath and everything will be fine!" I snapped at him, then turned away. He was being childish, finding anything he could to object to, probably hoping for another argument, a vent for his anger. Puppet was grinning.
"What did you say?" Tony said, his voice low.
"What?"
"Sir, there's..."
"Not now, J," Tony interrupted him, standing up. I eyed him in confusion as he stalked round the sofa. "How do you know what music I listen to?" I drew back, frowning at him.
"It was just a guess."
"Bullshit." Every pair of eyes was upon us. "How long have you had the place bugged?"
"Excuse me?" I snarled, actually taking a step towards him.
"Sir, unauthorised movement on floor 32." Jarvis cut in.
"Is that your buddies?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"How dare you?" I growled.
"Sir!"
"Lock it down, Jarvis!"
"My locking systems have been overridden."
"Damn it!" He swore. "Bring up the video." The screen lit up at once, showing a surprisingly clear picture of six or so men moving swiftly down a corridor. They were all wearing the same blue overalls, but I doubted that the guns in their hands were standard issue. The last one glanced up at the camera as he passed, two eyes all that was visible through slits in a black mask, streaked with white paint.
"Rumlow." Two voices spoke together, Steve and Puppet both spitting the word out like it would poison their mouths.
"Hydra." Steve spat, snatching up his shield. In my peripheral vision, I saw Puppet take a step back, even as his hand found a gun. Natasha and Sam were also ready, armed and waiting, Natasha glancing round only once to take in possible entry and exit points. Tony was still glaring at me and I stared right back.
"Well what do you know?" he said softly. "Your backup is here."
"You'd better watch what you're insinuating." I snarled at him, my hands flexing uselessly.
"Really?" he shot back.
"They've entered the south stairwell." Jarvis updated us. "And there appears to be a second team in the east stairwell, floor 39 and climbing." Tony cursed, even as he turned away from me, and red and gold bits of armour began to fly towards him, clicking smoothly into place as I continued to glare at his back.
"How did they get in?"
"There was scheduled work, and their credentials passed inspection." Tony cursed again.
"They've come." I looked sideways, and was unable to tell whether it was Puppet or Bucky who'd spoken. Their face was white, and their hand trembled.
"It's going to be okay." I closed my mouth, and looked at Steve in surprise. "They're not going to touch you." His voice was low but fierce, and the tremors lessened.
"Nat, Bird-brain, take east, try to bottleneck them on the stairs," Tony directed, his voice slightly muffled by the armour. Sam shot him a withering look that he didn't see, but followed Natasha regardless. I took a step towards Bucky. His head snapped round and his body tensed. I froze.
There was fear in those eyes. Fear and suspicion. I stared at him for a moment, then looked away, and tried to pretend my eyes weren't filling with liquid. That hurt. I'd bled for him, and now one off-hand comment about music and some snark, and he believed I was part of Hydra. That hurt a lot.
"Cap, with me," Tony barked, having noticed nothing, but he still glanced back at me before disappearing through a door. Steve paused before following him, his eyes on Puppet. Something passed between them.
"I'm not going back to them," Puppet said, his voice fierce. Steve hesitated, then nodded.
"Then we could use another gun." Puppet strode forwards at once, but Steve caught his arm as he made to pass. Again, something beyond words flitted between them.
"Bucky's here too," Puppet said, so quietly I almost missed it. Again Steve nodded, and released his arm. In perfect silence, Steve followed Tony out, but Puppet swung around the second he was out of sight and stalked across to me. I backed up a pace on instinct before he grabbed my hand and pressed something into it.
"Don't point it at someone unless you mean it. If you do, pull the trigger." The gun was surprisingly heavy in my hand, and when I looked up again, he was gone. Gaping at the space where he had been, I wondered what he meant by it. Surely, if he thought I was part of hydra, he wouldn't have given me a weapon? But what about the fear I'd seen in his eyes earlier?
The first gunshots were loud, louder than I'd expected, and I flinched slightly, my head whipping round to gaze after Natasha and Sam, towards the sound. But in the next second, my head turned the other way as more gunshots split the silence. And still I stood, useless and immobile. The next volley decided for me. I couldn't just stand here. I had to try and help. My head flickered between the two directions where the others had vanished. Tony, Steve and Puppet would be fine. If Iron Man and Captain America couldn't handle it, with Puppet as back-up, I wouldn't make any difference at all. So I turned and strode after Sam and Natasha.
"I've been instructed to inform Mr Stark of your movements." Jarvis said as I crossed the room.
"Then inform him." I spat, breaking into a run.
.
.
The sounds amplified tenfold as I opened the door to the stairwell, the bangs and shouts and groans reaching my ears unhampered. Gritting my teeth and telling myself very firmly not to be a coward, I crept down, hugging the wall as I went. My hand was sweating round the cool metal against my palm, and I was careful to keep my finger off the trigger.
It didn't take long to find them. The echoing bangs got louder as I descended into the enclosed space and my breathing quickened as I fought not to flinch away from the noise. Sam and Natasha were four floors down, pinned on a landing by a group of five men, also wearing the blue overalls. I could see two more bodies further down the stairs, but they seemed to have reach a stalemate, neither side able to move up or down without risking bullets from the other.
But they hadn't noticed me. On the landing directly above Natasha and Sam, I crouched down, and crept ever so slowly forwards. Another volley of shots flashed between them, ricocheting all around, but I didn't flinch this time. Don't point it at someone unless you mean it. Taking a slow breath, I raised the gun in both my hands. If you do, pull the trigger. My finger crept over the trigger and made contact. Could I really do this? Become a murderer? It's self-defence. A small voice whispered to me. But was it? They weren't threatening me. I could retreat back up the stairs, and take no part in this. For Natasha. The voice murmured. For Sam. Still I hesitated. For Bucky. For Bucky. I pulled the trigger.
The first shot missed altogether, but it did make them pull back in confusion, scattering their formation.
The second hit one of them in the shoulder. A spray of blood painted the wall as the bullet exited his body, the splatter accentuated by a red smear left behind as he fell against the wall with a cry of pain.
The third took another in the thigh, but he dove out of sight without so much as a whimper.
Then Natasha made her move. I heard the sure footsteps pound below me, and saw a streak of her red hair as she launched herself over the balcony, straight across the gap to land in the middle of the group. She moved so fast I didn't even see what happened. A blur of limbs and two of the men were reeling backwards. Terrified of hitting her, I swung my gun away, my finger leaving the trigger without any reluctance. My ears were still ringing from the unbelievably loud sound of the gunshots.
Sam moved at almost the same time, but he leapt down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. His bullets found their targets with much more accuracy than mine had. I didn't look away, didn't even move until every single one of them was lying sprawled on the floor, unconscious or dead. Only when Sam and Natasha were finished, and looked back up to see who had joined the fight did I stand on shaking legs, the gun hanging loosely by my side. None of us said anything for a minute, just looking at each other. It was Sam that broke the silence.
"Beth," he said, his voice croaky. I didn't reply, but stumbled down the three flights of stairs to join them. Looking down on the bodies strewn around, I wondered if I would be sick. People were sometimes sick when they looked at dead bodies, especially ones they'd had a hand in killing. I could see a man, lying on his front with a bullet hole in his shoulder. I'd fired that bullet. Me. But no nausea came. No tears either. I just stared down at the abstract painting in dark blue and brightest red. Lots of red.
.
.
I could feel Sam watching me, his gaze like a physical pressure, but I was immovable beneath it, like a rock before the wind. Natasha ignored us both, moving among the bodies, checking each one for a pulse. What she would do if she found one, I didn't know. Execute them? Or take them for interrogation? I shivered at the thought. Or maybe I was just trembling anyway. I wasn't quite sure.
"Beth," Sam said again, but he didn't get the chance to go any further. The single, unexpected, gunshot seemed so much louder than all the others had been. Another spray of red splattered the already over-decorated walls and Natasha fell, in total silence, crumpling on top of the pile of bodies. Sam turned at once, raising his gun, but I just stood there. I didn't need to turn. I was already looking straight at the gunman, who had now turned his sights to me. I opened my mouth, to say something, to scream, to cry out, I wasn't sure which. Before I could do anything, there was a bright flash, a roar of sound, a burst of pain and an endless fall into darkness.