Cracks in the Armor

Helicarrier – 9:50 PM

It was a long flight back to the helicarrier, even with Steve's attention focused on Jessica. Casting away the bitter dregs of defeat and the embarrassment of failure was a difficult task under normal circumstances. With the added effect of Carol's injury and Jessica's near mental breakdown, Steve found the search for any silver lining to be arduous at best. While silence could be seen as a comfort and a moment to try and sort things out, the quiet that settled into the cabin after his and Jessica's conversation was anything but.

His mind kept racing, going over the last few five days. In such a short time, so much had gone wrong, with very little going their way. In fact, nothing had gone their way. He wasn't sure how long Zemo had been meticulously planning this, but his plan seemed to have very few flaws, if any. He tore them down, picked them apart, and snatched their strongest members away until there was less than the sum of his own parts left. At this rate, they stood no chance against the Masters.

He knew that thinking that way was no good, but he couldn't see a silver lining. He watched the footage of DC. His heart crumbled when the two national monuments crumbled. Bruce's show right before then proved he was under some kind of mind control; not that anyone would believe them if they tried to exonerate him. All anyone would see was the green behemoth barreling through the nation's capital and causing more mayhem than he ever had before and that would be that. If Bruce showed his face again, he was as good as dead.

Tony, he had no words. It was his voice, his armor, and his mannerisms, but something in Steve knew it wasn't him. There was no way he would try to kill the very man he saved last Christmas. It wasn't possible. Besides, Steve had just seen Tony that morning and there was no inkling that something like that would happen. Then again, Tony was notoriously difficult to read; even Natasha couldn't get a proper read on him, other than whatever he wanted her to see.

His team was falling apart and there was little he could do about it. It was only himself, Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Jessica left. Hardly a pushover team, but Thor could only handle so much. Maybe it's time to reach out to the other heroes. The Defenders, X-Men, Fantastic Four, and the abundance of freelance heroes, to be precise. While they all had their own thing going on, surely they could spare a member or two to help the Avengers out.

He hoped, anyway.

The quinjet docked on the top deck of the helicarrier. Steve scooped a sleeping Carol in his arms and carried her to the medical area so she could have her knee worked on. Jessica stalked off to parts unknown; he didn't try to stop her. While he knew that being alone with nothing but her thoughts to 'comfort' her wasn't a good idea, it was her choice.

After dropping Carol off, Steve walked into Fury's office, where he was standing in front of the window behind him, staring out into the ocean below. "Enjoy your trip?"

Steve sighed heavily. "Nick, I'm sorry. I thought—"

"What did you find?"

"Zemo."

Fury whirled around, brow creased with confusion and apprehension. "Heinrich?"

"His son, Helmut. I don't know how he's still alive, but he's the mastermind behind the Masters of Evil." He sighed again and sunk down into one of the chairs in front of Fury's desk. "He's behind everything. Wanda, Pietro, Tony, Bruce; gone because of him."

"Well," Fury responded as he sat down into his own chair, "it's good you went then. Now, we have something to work with."

"Zemo been active long?"

"A few petty crimes here or there," he replied. He paused to tap something into his computer, presumably Zemo's rap sheet. "He's mostly been active in Europe the last sixty years. Take a guess with who?"

"His old man's stomping grounds. Guess that explains why the Masters are teamed up with Hydra. And how he's managed to mostly stay under the radar for so long."

Fury nodded and handed Steve the file he had just printed out. "That's everything we have on him. It isn't much. He's good a covering his tracks."

"Figured. Thanks."

"Stark was hacked, and Thor claims Banner was under some kind of magical spell. Shit that went down in DC isn't on them," Fury noted. "Not that it does them any good. Had to tell Stark to go underground until the heat blows over."

That was what he figured. While he felt better knowing his friend hadn't lost his mind, he knew as well as Fury did that the heat wasn't going to blow over as far as Tony was concerned. Until something changed, the authorities were going to hunt him down until they found him or his corpse. "He won't be able to stop running, you know."

"I'm aware." When Steve started to get up to leave, he gestured for him to stop, then got up and closed the door. "Secure room." Suddenly, the windows blacked out, followed by a low hum in the air. When the hum subsided, Fury spoke up. "Listen, Rogers, you need to not be here. I'm almost positive that Hydra has multiple double agents within SHIELD. The information I gave you cannot get out."

Steve frowned and looked at the file again. Thinking that it was just files on Zemo, he was surprised to see a sheet that listed the location of Tony's safehouse, as well as a tracking device, presumably to keep track of Bruce.

"The other Avengers are already back at the Tower, Maximoff included. Jarvis has been taken down already. He's compromised until Stark can clean him out. Whatever you plan on doing about the Masters, you're on your own until it all goes down. I can't risk letting whatever we plan get back to Viper and Zemo."

Steve's face drained of all color. Questions raced through his head one after the other. How many double agents were there? How highly ranked were they? How long had they been there? What did they know? What had they seen? How much had been reported back to Viper? "Is Jess—"

"No," he answered before he could get the question out. "Drew's clean. Has been since she started."

He nodded. While he figured that based on their talk, she was bred to be a spy practically from birth. She was a damn good liar. "Good. I'll get her and Carol and get out of here."

Fury nodded and leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.

Stark Tower – Midnight

It was after midnight and dead quiet in Stark Tower. Without Jarvis, and without Tony's incessantly loud music thumping in his workshop, there was nary a sound in the massive skyscraper. Clint found himself standing in the living room on the common floor, staring out of the large pane glass window at Jessica. She had been standing out there for over an hour, with no signs of ever coming back inside.

She had been off all day, ever since she returned from the intelligence mission with Steve. Something happened there. Steve already briefed him on Zemo, but that wasn't it. Something happened to her. Steve was unusually short on those details. Whenever Clint tried to ask, he just mumbled some noncommittal answer and beat a quick exit.

He understood the value of compartmentalization, but Clint didn't like being kept in the dark about his own partner. The sliding door leading outside opened silently, allowing him to creep up behind her. Just below the ambient noises produced by the city below them – sirens, car horns, the occasional airplane passing overhead – he could hear her reciting something. It was quiet, but his hearing aides were sharp enough to pick it up easily.

"Hail Hydra. Immortal Hydra. We shall never be destroyed. Cut off one head and two more shall take its place. We serve none but the Master – as soon the world will serve us. Hail Hydra. Immortal Hydra. We shall never be destroyed. Cut off one head and two more shall take its place. We serve none but the Master – as soon the world will serve us. Hail Hydra. Immor..."

Clint felt his skin crawling as if it was alive and trying to escape. No. Those words couldn't have been coming out of her mouth. What the hell happened on that mission?! He marched up behind and jerked her around to face him. "Jess, we nee—"

Immediately, her hand shot up and clapped around his throat. She snarled and lifted him up into the air. It was a second before she finally recognized him. "Oh, god," she gasped as she set him down. "Clint, I'm so sorry."

Clint gasped for breath, his hand grasping futilely to grab any purchase of the balcony. "It's alright. ...not the first time I've been strangled by mistake." He rubbed his throat and cleared it before standing upright. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she answered, too quickly. "I... was just lost in thought."

Clint was very good at reading people, but Jessica was just as good at masking her true thoughts. She was very guarded; had been ever since they first met. Back then, he just handwaved it as her not trusting him, then he trusted her enough to not bother asking about her past. Right then, he realized that was a mistake. "Then, what was that poem about?" When she flinched subtly, he narrowed his eyes. "Hail Hydra. Immortal Hydra. We shall never be destroyed..."

"Stop," she demanded.

He continued undeterred. "...cut off one head and two more shall take its place. We serve none but the..."

"Stop it."

"...Master, as soon the world shall serve us. Hail—"

"STOP!" She gripped the sides of her head and mumbled something under her breath.

Clint grabbed her by the forearms and made her look at him. "What is going on with you? Ever since you got back from Canada, you've been acting weird." Fury let it drop to him and Natasha before they left that the base Steve went to check out was a Hydra outpost. "Did they– did they do something to you?"

"No," she answered firmly. She ripped her arms from his grip and tried to walk past him.

"Jess, talk to me. We've been partners for three years. You can talk to me about anything." When she didn't stop, he got desperate. "Remem... remember when I told you about my divorce?" That stop her in her tracks. "I haven't told anyone else on the team about that. I don't like thinking about it. But, I told you because I trust you. I want you to trust me, too."

She said nothing, and didn't turn around, but he could see her shoulders shaking. "I don't want you to hate me," she responded quietly, voice warbled.

He slowly walked up to her until he was close enough to place his hands gently on her shoulders. She shuddered at the sudden touch. "I don't think I could," he whispered.

Her breathing hitched when he spoke. "They made us recite it every day," she answered. "I hear the words in my sleep, every night. They haunt my dreams."

Clint could feel his breath becoming short as the world started spinning. His partner came from Hydra? No, it can't be. This... this isn't possible! He swallowed, only to find that his mouth and throat were drier than the most arid desert.

His hands slowly slipped from her shoulders and fell limply at his sides. He stood there, dead silent, staring at the back of her head. Words formed in his mouth, but were unable to find a voice every time he opened his mouth. He didn't want to do this. Jessica needed to know what he was thinking. The problem was that he didn't know what he was thinking.

His mind kept rewinding to what Fury told him a few hours ago. "Hydra has agents within SHIELD"; the words blared through his mind like an unyielding klaxon. The confidence with which Fury spoke was haunting. He knew that SHIELD had been compromised. Was Jessica one of those double agents? No, that wasn't possible. Not while she was his partner. He would have picked up on it. Right?

He had been on plenty of undercover missions before. He knew how careful undercover agents had to be to avoid blowing their cover. Jessica was good enough to avoid making mistakes. Everyone on the team trusted her except Natasha. Even her suspicions came across as more jealousy than outright legitimate suspicion.

Clint watched Jessica slowly walk inside and disappear inside the elevator. He stood outside, shivering slightly despite the air being so humid. Is she a traitor? That question cycled through his head repeatedly as he walked inside himself and went upstairs.

"Well, look who's come home."

The icy cold chill that ran up Jessica's spine every time her mind played those words shocked her into a brief paralysis. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those terrible green eyes piercing through her, watching her soul float in the dark abyss that was her inner person. Her eyes, her stare, her frightening smile, they all haunted her darkest nightmares.

For the better part of twenty years, Jessica was a member of Hydra. She was practically born into it; her father died when she was a young girl, right after giving her a serum that melded spider DNA with her own to save her life from a life-threatening disease. At the time, all she knew was Hydra and their ideal. How the world was theirs for the taking, and they were going to make the people give it to them. Sarkissian taking her under her wing to personal train her should have terrified her, but she had been molded from the beginning to see her as a mother; a doting parental figure who's only concern was her well-being. What a crock of shit that was. The only thing Viper was concerned with was molding me to take her place.

She was regarded as the heir apparent, and was treated as such. Of course, most would assume that would have led to some... difficulties with other agents, but no. They were all too terrified of Sarkissian to even dream of harassing her 'daughter'.

Seeing her again was like seeing her rapist for the first time since freeing herself from her bondage. All it took was five words and Jessica was right back under her wing as a terrified little girl begging to go home. It took all she had not to recoil from the imagined pain produced by the sharp backhand she received every time she begged Viper to let her go home. "This is your home," Sarkissian would tell her after she slapped her.

She instinctively rubbed her cheek and grabbed the doorknob to her penthouse. The knob scanned her fingerprints and unlocked the door. "Hey," came a call from behind her. Carol hobbled out of her penthouse, her knee wrapped up with thick bandages. She had a crutch in one hand and a DVD in the other. "Is everything okay?"

Such a simple question shouldn't have garnered the complicated answer that was tickling her tongue. The correct answer was that no, everything was not okay. Her life had fallen apart seemingly overnight. "Ace," she replied with a tight smile. "Just lovely." Hoping that was enough, she turned and started to enter her penthouse.

"I heard what you and Steve talked about," Carol said. That stopped her in her tracks. "I missed most of it, but I heard the important part. The part about you being basically kidnapped and indoctrinated as a little girl." Her voice trailed off into the ether, leaving Jessica's shuddering breaths as the only sounds in the hall. "A PTSD episode isn't something you just get over in a few hours."

"I—" She knew Carol was right, but she just wanted to be left alone. With any hope, she would fall asleep after only a few hours of tossing and turning and hating herself. "What's that?"

"It's, uh... look, I don't know what kind of movies you like, but since you're a spy and you're British, I figured you'd like Austin Powers." She grinned and held up the cover so she could see it. "Maybe you can translate the English English scene?"

Well, she did like Austin Powers, and Carol was making an effort to reach out to her. It wouldn't do to just throw that back in her face. "Alright." She opened the door and held it open so Carol could get inside. "How's your knee feeling?"

"It hurts like a sumbitch, but I'll manage." She sighed tiredly and slowly eased down onto her beige sofa. "I'm gonna be on the shelf for about three months, at least. It sucks, but it's better than the alternative."

"Yeah." She heard the gunshot when she was spiraling out of control in the quinjet, and just knew that Sarkissian had shot someone. The feminine scream told her that Steve wasn't going to be in a good mood once he got back on the jet. "It's a shame that happened. Maybe we should have—"

"No. I..." Her voice trailed off when she looked at the ceiling. "I have to prove that I can do this. That joining this team wasn't a mistake." When Jessica frowned thoughtfully, she sighed again. "I've been told my entire life that I wouldn't amount to anything. That I wouldn't be able to do anything on my own. My old man is one of those old-school types that thinks women should be submissive, depend on their husbands, blah blah blah. I'll admit that much of my childhood was spent proving him wrong, or trying to. That's why I ripped into Steve a few days ago when he tried to help with my suitcase. I feel like a failure if I can't do something on my own. I feel like he's right and I hear his smug voice in my head again."

Jessica listened to Carol explain her mindset silently. Everything about her suddenly made sense; she had daddy issues. Thankfully, she didn't exorcise those issues in the way that most women did. At least, she thought she didn't. "Look. I get that you feel that you need to prove yourself to... yourself, and that's fine. But, you need to understand that what we do isn't safe. That bullet could have very easily been aimed between your eyes, and then we wouldn't be having this conversation." She tilted her head to the side. "So, I need you to promise that when we say stay out of it, you'll listen. We aren't saying it because we think you're useless, but rather because you're going to get yourself killed. Alright?"

It was clear she didn't want to agree, but she did anyway. "Alright."

With one final nod, she put the movie in her DVD player and sat down beside Carol. "So, shall I get us some wine?"

"You trying to liquor me up for something?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe." She winked alluringly and started to get up.

Carol's laughter subsided some. "I, um, don't really mix with alcohol."

"Can't hold your liquor?"

"No, I mean I can't stop once I start. Last time I drank, I got blackout drunk and passed out on someone's front lawn. Across town from where the party was at."

"Oh. Well, how about some soda, then."

"So, can I ask you something personal? And you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Shoot," she replied from the kitchenette.

Carol chewed on her words, seemingly trying to figure out how to best ask whatever she wanted to ask. Jessica had an idea what she wanted to ask. "Are you... afraid of her?"

It didn't take much mental energy to figure out who 'her' was. The answer was much simpler than the last question. "Terrified."

"Yeah, she is pretty scary."

Pretty scary didn't cover it, and neither did terrifying. If a Hydra agent didn't have a morbid dread of displeasing the Madame, he was either crazy or dead. Even if he was just the former, he would be the latter soon enough.

Carol didn't press the issue any further, letting her finally relax. With a content sigh, she plopped down next to her new friend and started the movie. Even though she loved Austin Powers, any movie would have been a welcome distraction from the shit-show that the day ended up becoming. She was sure that even though he gave her a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear, Steve would never fully trust her again. She had no idea where Clint's head was at, but their relationship was almost certainly over.

A shame, that. She really did care about him.

Well, if worst came to worst, she could just leave the Avengers and try to sift through SHIELD to root out the double agents. It was the least she could do.

About midway through, there was a loud knock on the door that startled both women, who had both nodded off. Jessica roused herself and told Carol to keep quiet. The day's events left her on edge and paranoid, even if she hid both well. She crept up to the door and looked out the peephole. "Lovely." She opened the door.

The first thing she saw was the black handgun being brought to bear just before the trigger was pulled.