"'It was a mistake,' you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you."

-David Levithan

Three days he had given Fury to meet his demands and three days had passed without change. Steve had played along as though nothing was wrong. The days had been filled with the usual routine he had fallen into: packing lunches for the teens, helping to clean up and fix more of the House, running for supplies, and, oftentimes, carrying Nikki up to her room whenever she fell asleep at the kitchen table.

It was just after dark on the third day when he finally broke into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, after a quick call to Tony for help, and checked the Index. All fifteen mutants were still listed under their own file of superhumans. Nothing had changed, and he had been a fool to think Fury would simply cave into his demands. But Steve would keep his word.

Nikki was in the living room when he found her, sketchpad propped on her knee as she perched on one of the few hole-less spots on the couch. She was completely oblivious to him entering the room as she drew. The sound of a pencil scratching against paper was one familiar to him and, had the situation been a more serene one, he might have smiled at it. She looked up at him the second he sat down on the seat across from her.

"Hey," she said with a smile. "You're up late again. I'm starting to wonder if you even sleep at all." – a thoughtful expression crossed her face – "That isn't part of your mutation, is it?"

"No," he answered. "I just don't sleep well."

"Nightmares?"

He looked up at her in surprise, meeting her dark eyes. She put her pencil and sketchbook down on the coffee table.

"I get them sometimes. It's why I usually wake up so early."

"What about?"

Nikki shrugged, "My time in Auschwitz. The place where I found Hannah. Anya's death. It just depends."

Steve felt a painful tug in his chest, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she answered, shaking her head. "It's not as though you can control it."

His eyes turned downward, as he almost didn't want to meet her gaze, and fell upon the beginnings of her drawing.

"Is that me?"

A pale blush crept up her cheeks, "Yes. Though it's not turning out that well. I'm more of a painter at heart, but pencils are cheaper."

Steve tilted the sketchbook his way, admiring the half-finished work. It was well drawn, despite her comment about being a painter, and obviously had been a project she was putting a good deal of effort into. He looked up at her when she suddenly pulled it back into her lap.

"Why?"

She looked perplexed at his question, "Why what?"

"Why me?"

"I like to draw those who are important to me," she answered. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

She smiled, "Sit still so I can get your eyes right."

Steve fought back a smile of his own, "Alright."

The look of gratefulness was only on her face for a fraction of a second before she returned her attention to her sketch. She leaned over the paper slightly as she worked, occasionally glancing up at him to get a look at specific details. Steve sat there quietly as she worked, thinking over what he had to do and how to go about telling her the truth.

He regretted having to tell her that he had been deceiving her from the very start. After all she had been through, what he could piece together from the parts she had told him, he didn't want to be the one to shatter her fragile trust. She had told him who she really was and who she had been. That alone, Steve thought, must have cost a good deal of courage on her part.

The sound of a pencil tapping against the table caught his attention and he looked up to see Nikki watching him. She had dropped her feet back down to the floor from where they had been curled up under her, a position which looked much more comfortable, and was leaned forward.

"You there, Steve?" she asked.

He offered a tight smile, "Yeah. Did you want me to turn my head or…?"

"I'm finished," she replied with a shake of her head, tilting the sketchpad towards him. "Looks like I just needed you to model for me."

The sketch was beautifully done. It bore the same careful effort as the drawings in the portfolio she had shone him months ago. His simple, boy-next-door features were translated nearly perfectly onto the page. Steve picked up the sketchpad carefully, inspecting each graceful line.

"What's wrong?"

He looked up to see a worried expression on Nikki's face. She watched him closely, her body language speaking of the unease she was feeling. Deciding that he could put it off no longer, as it would only prove worse if he continued to lie, he set down the sketch and walked around the coffee table to stand directly in front of her. It took all of his strength to meet her worried gaze.

"There's something I need to tell you."

The look she gave him made his throat tighten. There was a desperate sort of hope in her expression, but a terrified doubt in her dark eyes. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, and part of him wanted to tell her something trivial, but he couldn't pretend forever. The lies needed to stop.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you," he started, stifling a cringe when she visibly deflated. "There's a lot that I haven't told you and, after everything you've told me, I want to return the favor."

"Steve-" she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes focused on something beyond him. "Get down!"

She leapt forward, tugging him to the ground with her as something flew over their heads with a loud whish. The sound of that something landing against the floor, one which Steve very nearly recognized, caught his attention and he turned his head to see dendrotoxin grenade a few feet from them. Nikki cursed softly, waving her hand in the grenade's direction. The blue mist pouring from the grenade stopped two feet away from the center, as though surrounded by a bubble.

"Nikki!"

Both looked up to see a flustered Bali rushing down the stairs. The raven-haired man froze when he saw the broken window and grenade, a string of words in a familiar lilting language escaping him. He made to move forward, no doubt to help protect Steve and Nikki, but she leapt to her feet and pushed him back.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," she spat. "Damn it."

"Let me help," Bali whispered.

"No! Wake the kids and get them out of here."

Steve pushed himself to his feet, rushing towards the stairwell as a torrent of I.C.E.R. bullets flew through the window. He managed to reach them just in time to see Bali's look of disbelief, no doubt in response to what Nikki was implying.

"I will not leave you here," he snapped.

"They need you to protect them," she countered. "I've got this. Go!"

Bali hesitated only a second before nodding gravely and running back up the stairs. With him gone, Nikki turned to Steve.

"Go help him," she ordered. "Unless you're invulnerable, I'm not sure super strength is going to help us against S.H.I.E.L.D."

Without another word, she raced for the door and out into the night. It sounded as though there was an army outside and Steve's heart dropped. He should have known that Fury wouldn't sit idly as he told Nikki everything. It never crossed his mind, however, that he would send in an attack on the entire House. He never wanted anyone to get hurt. Even if the House had turned out to hide HYDRA agents, it was never his intention to get anyone killed.

Steve raced out the door after her, hoping to both buy some time for the kids to get safely out of the House and to keep the agents outside from killing Nikki. He knew her well enough to know that she would die to protect those kids and would make damn sure the agents never got any information from her. It would take nothing short of a miracle, if such could even be worked in the current situation, for her to even end up alive.

She was holding her own fairly well against the agents, given the circumstances. Anger raged in her eyes as she manipulated the world around her to her advantage. Fires burst into existence, the ground opened up to swallow agents whole, and some fell to the floor as she removed the oxygen from small pockets of the atmosphere. He watched in shock and horror as I.C.E.R. bullets disintegrated before they were within a foot of her reach.

His previous belief had been partially wrong. She wasn't just going to go down fighting, but she was going to take down as many agents with her as she could.

Steve forced himself closer, despite the feeling of light-headedness that overcame him as he reached within three feet of her. He reached out for her and grabbed her hand.

"Nikki."

She didn't seem to hear him, much less notice him, in her rage. Her focus was spent entirely on the attacking agents.

"Nikki, stop!"

Three more agents went down as they were engulfed in flames.

"You're killing them, Magda!"

The use of her real name seemed to snap her out of it and she looked at him with the most conflicted expression. A wave of her hand brought a wall of flames up between them and the agents beyond. The screams had stopped, much to Steve's relief, so the wall must have taken most of her energy.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," she said. "But I won't let anyone hurt my family again."

"These people have families, too."

An affronted expression crossed her face, "Why are you defending them? They attacked us. What could possibly make you-?"

It seemed to dawn on her then, her eyes widening as she stared at him. Her lips parted in surprise as an almost heartbroken expression dominated her features.

"What was it that you weren't being truthful about, Steve?"

The words were quiet against the roaring inferno. But the hard edge, the thinly-veiled accusation, was unmistakable in her voice. He shook his head sadly, wishing he had anything to say other than the truth.

"I'm sorry, Nikki."

For a second, she simply stood before him in disbelief. Shadows and light from the fire danced across the planes of her face as though she was a chiaroscuro painting. She certainly looked the part of a Shakespeare tragedy brought to life visually. He could see her crumbling at his confession, as though it was the final betrayal she could take.

And then her face transformed into a mask of fury before his eyes. She reached forward and slammed the palm of her hand into his chest, a sudden gust of wind pushing him back and away from her. A groan escaped him as he slammed against the wall of the House. It was only seconds later that she was before him once more, her face entirely cast in darkness with the fire behind her.

"You bastard!" she snarled, her hand on his throat as the atmosphere around him seemed to propel him off the ground.

He hovered a few inches off the grass, his back digging into the bricks behind him as she pressed hard against his neck.

"How could you?" she demanded. "We trusted you. I trusted you!"

His hands reached for hers, trying to pry her fingers off of him. Spots danced before his vision but he could still see the hurt in her eyes. Though he deserved her rage, as he had done nothing but lie to her for the majority of his stay, he wondered if he deserved death in her eyes. He had put her family in jeopardy. How far would she go for them?

Before he could black out, she removed her hand from his throat and Steve fell unceremoniously back to the floor. She backed away, clenching her fists hard enough to draw blood, and he sucked in a relieved breath. Tears were streaking down her face when he looked up at her once more.

"No," she breathed. "I'm not like Erik."

She sounded upset and angry, though more towards herself than at him. Her brown eyes sought out his again and, this time, he could not look away.

"Why? Why would you do this?"

The desperation in her voice was clear, as though she needed to know his answer. He opened his mouth to speak, to say the entire truth at last, but his words were snatched away as she suddenly doubled over in pain before him. An arrow protruded from her shoulder. Looking over her shoulder, Steve could see the faint silhouette of Clint beyond the wall of fire.

White light pulsed beneath Nikki's skin and an explosion wracked the House behind him. She looked up at him in horror, one hand clutching her wounded shoulder, as the light beneath her skin flickered rapidly. The air around them grew hot.

"I can't stop it."

Her words were frantic and afraid, her teeth grit in pain. Steve reached for her but pulled back his hand as a searing pain raced up his arm. The skin of his hand was black, as though he had pressed his palm to an open flame, and welts were beginning to form. She stumbled away from him, her good hand reaching up to rake her fingers through her hair. The pulsing light only increased in speed as she did.

"I can't stop it," she repeated. "I don't know how to stop it."

Another gasp escaped her and Steve watched in shock as her veins seemed to turn blue before she collapsed to the ground. He looked up from where she had fallen, his eyes meeting Natasha's. The spy stood a few feet from the wall of flames, which had now dwindled down to a few burning patches of grass, an I.C.E.R. in her hand. Steve knelt beside Nikki, pressing two fingers against her neck with his good hand.

Satisfied that she was only unconscious, he turned his attention back to Natasha, "Was this Fury's idea of pulling out? I thought I made it clear that these people were innocent."

"She just injured a dozen agents," she pointed out. "We're lucky there are no casualties."

"The only reason there aren't any is because Nikki isn't a killer. There were kids in that house!"

Clint stepped over the flames, his bow in hand, "It's not personal."

Both looked mildly guilty at what their actions had caused, but he knew where their loyalties lay. If push came to shove, as it usually did, they would do what they thought was best. Apparently that meant following S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders. That didn't make Steve any happier with their decision.

"What if one of them had gotten hurt? What if one of them is hurt?"

He stood up abruptly with his words, his hands clenched in anger at what had happened. Natasha leveled her I.C.E.R. at him.

"Don't make me pull this trigger, Steve."

"I'm not going back to Fury," he said. "Not now. I've got to find the kids. I owe that much to Nikki."

The ex-soldier looked down at Nikki, who was sprawled across the grass with an arrow sticking from her shoulder. All he had wanted was to make sure HYDRA wasn't making allies out of the Alchemist. Now the kids were scattered, Nikki was hurt, the House was burning, and it was entirely his fault. He wanted to atone for that.

"Steve-"

He never heard the rest of Natasha's sentence as her words were swallowed by the sound of a gunshot. Something hard tore through his shirt and hit his chest, a sharp pain exploding through him. His vision went blue, the world seemed to tilt sideways, and then everything was black.