She refuses to get out of bed the next morning, telling Bucky simply, "I'm tired," when he gently prods her, concern covering his face. There's something about seeing that worry that lights a bitter fire in her gut, causing her to bite out, "I haven't slept in days… not that you'd know."
She rolls over not long after he leaves and calls in sick to work. Then she drifts back into a fitful sleep that, somehow, morphs into a slumber so deep she doesn't wake for hours. It isn't until she feels Bucky tug at her ankle, then slowly shake her at the hip, that she stirs once more.
"Baby," he utters softly, carefully. "Wake up, doll. It's almost four." She shifts beneath the covers and emits a low growl. "Come on, Tess," he says, voice deeper, more commanding. "You gotta get up."
But there's something weighting her limbs, something preventing her from lifting her head off the pillow. There's a heaviness to her body that makes the air around her seem thick as honey and impossible to move through. And there's an exhausted fog rippling through her mind, wrapping her in a sluggish, weary daze.
Maybe it's because she hadn't slept much during Cal's little visit. And seeing him, talking to him, pulling him close – and then pushing, pushing, pushing him away – sucked her energy clean.
Maybe it's because she knows she has to get back to Chin and Vargas about working on isolating MGH… and she also knows that she simply can't do that. And even just thinking about fighting that unwinnable battle is so fucking exhausting.
Maybe it's because she recognizes that every minute she's at work – whether she's talking to him or not – she's lying to Tony. And to Pepper. And to her entire staff.
Maybe it's because she knows that Lobe is out there – somewhere – maybe looking for her, definitely looking for mutant subjects. And she has no clue how to stop him.
Maybe it's because the entire world is turning on her and her family – blaming them, hating them, thinking of them as less than human – just because of their genetics. And there's likely nothing she can say or do to change their minds.
Maybe it's because this vehemence, this threat drove her family away, caused them to flee… to leave her behind. And she's certain they don't want her to follow.
Maybe it's because – as exhausting as it's been for the last ten plus years – hiding who she really is becoming less of a choice and more of a necessity. And knowing that and abiding by that – especially now that she knows who she is once again, and what she's capable of, and how she could use her powers to do so much good – makes her feel like a selfish, spineless asshole.
Maybe it's because she can feel the worry and guilt and fear bleeding off of Bucky as he looms cautiously over her. She's making him hurt – again – and nothing makes her hate herself more than that.
Whatever the reason, she simply cannot bring herself to climb out of bed.
"Romanov and the team got back an hour ago," he says softly, the mattress dipping as he sits down beside her. "Steve thinks you should be at the debrief too."
"No," she mutters, her face buried in the pillow.
He stares down at her for a long moment, reaches out to run his fingers along her back but – for some inexplicable reason – thinks twice about it and pulls his hand away. "Okay," he says simply, rising from the bed. "I'll let 'em know you're not up for it."
He brings her some soup before he goes. It's not Steve's mom's cure-all chicken soup. But it probably wouldn't matter if it was. She swallows it down for him – just to wipe away some of that pained energy he can't help but emit in her presence – but she tastes nothing.
000
By the time Bucky makes it to the conference room, the gang's all there – everyone's eyes veering to look his way as he breezes in and steps over to lean against the far wall. Steve glances up at him from his seat at the head of the table, a question in his gaze. Bucky folds his arms tightly across his chest and gives a swift shake of his head in response.
"Okay," the Captain breathes out, turning back to the group in front of him. Natasha, Atkinson, and Robson sit to his left, at the ready to discuss their findings on the skull guy, as they'd been calling him. To his right is Sam – who's going to lay out their report on the small base found in Brazil – and Vision – who's spent the last 24 hours combing through files, using little more than his brain, on anything related to Lobe, Dr. Aaron Scofield, and the recently deceased Michael Calvin. "Let's get started."
They begin with skull guy – a biomechanical engineer from Toronto named Bernard Kramer. "Not too many friends outside of work," Natasha tells the crew. "Not too many friends inside of work either. But he had talked to a certain female colleague about an exciting freelance position he took up that might just turn into something full time. Kramer was fairly new at his firm, and low on the totem pole."
She glances over at Robson and he pulls himself upright, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "This colleague," he begins, easily interpreting Natasha's silent directive for him to take over. "She said she thought Kramer was full of shit… that he was making up the opportunity to try and gain leverage at work and get into some high-profile projects." He offers a tight shrug. "Because of that, she didn't really pay much attention to what he said… only really remembered that he was going to Brazil every six weeks or so – "
"Which lines up with flight records," Atkinson interjects.
"And that it had something to do with – according to him – tissue engineering," he finishes.
Steve's brow wrinkles. "What's that?"
Robson looks over to Romanov, clearly expecting her to take point. But she just gives him a small nod instead. "Basically," he starts, turning back to Steve, "it's using human cells along with other… materials to either improve existing biological tissue or to replace it with something better."
"Like creating an artificial heart?" he asks, brow perking as he harkens back to an article he read not so long ago.
Robson nods. "Sure. Could be. But…"
"Didn't look like they were making artificial hearts in that lab we found," Sam mentions casually.
Natasha leans forward. "Yeah. Tell us about that. You think it's where San Paulo and the others went?"
He pulls in a long, deep breath. "It'd be a pretty big coincidence if there was another underground lab somewhere in Brazil that got burned out around the time of the UN attack." He shakes his head a bit, face curling in thought. "There wasn't much left of the place. Some smashed computers, but no hard drives – nothing salvageable. No other files or documents. And the lab portion of the base was empty."
"So you really don't know what they were doing there," Robson surmises.
Sam glances over at him. "Nope. But it was a pretty small facility."
"Was any equipment left behind?" Natasha asks. "We could get Tessa to take a look, see if she knows what it might've been used for."
Sam shoots a quick sidelong glance over to Steve, who stiffens and frowns at the mention of Tessa's name. Silence permeates the room as he looks over to Bucky, who's still standing staunchly still, the slightest cinching of his shoulders catching Steve's eye.
"What?" Natasha bites out, sensing the dramatic shift in tension.
Sam clears his throat. "There wasn't much left behind. We can have her take a look through the report. But I doubt…"
"We found Cal there," Steve interrupts, his sudden admission causing Nat's eyes to blow wide. He ducks his head and swallows thickly. "Just the one body. Burned beyond recognition. But… we figured out it was him. Still waiting on the official results. But…"
"And Tessa knows?" Her voice is soft, concern lacing the words. It's a tone that neither Robson nor Atkinson has ever heard come from their superior before, and that foreign quality is enough to put them both on edge.
"I'm sorry," Atkinson interrupts. "Who's Tessa?"
The Avengers all turn to look at her, each of them wearing a similar expression of surprise as though they'd all forgotten that she – and the other support team member to her left – were in the room. "Dr. Sullivan," Steve replies simply before turning back to Natasha. "And, yeah, she knows."
Atkinson's brows knit together in confusion. She glances across the room at Bucky, notes the deep frown on his face, the way his stormy eyes veer off towards nothing. Is this the personal thing he had to stay back to attend to? "How…" she starts, inadvertently speaking over the top of Sam, who's busy laying out the specifics of what they did manage to salvage from the base. "Isn't Dr. Sullivan… how is she involved?"
Bucky's eyes fly up to meet hers, his glare penetrating. "She's not," he bites out with more venom than she's ever heard from him. There's a dangerous quality, not just in his tone, but in his overall demeanor, in the way he stands – feet firmly planted, hands tightly fisted, jaw creakily grinding. And it's enough to cause her breath to catch.
"Dr. Sullivan has experience in many different research fields," Steve explains calmly, drawing Atkinson's attention back to him. "Including the genetics of mutants. So she might be familiar with certain… practices."
"And people?" Robson inquires blithely. "You made it sound like she knows the guy who burned up in the base…"
"Maybe," he issues out quickly before twisting in his seat to look at Vision. "What do you have for us?" he asks hurriedly, eager to move on lest any additional questions arise.
"Ah, yes," the android begins, tone almost cheerful as though utterly oblivious to the tension in the room. "Well, as requested, I gathered what I believe to be pertinent data on the individuals in question."
"Sorry," Natasha interrupts, her tone brokering zero hint of actual apology. "Which individuals?"
Vision looks over at her and replies, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Mr. Calvin, Dr. Scofield, and the man called Lobe."
For the second time inside of twenty minutes, her eyes flash surprise and grow wide. She turns to Steve. "You think this was Lobe? I mean…"
He nods, his eyes flickering over towards the two soldiers by her side. "I know it was him. But not everyone in the room has the security clearance to hear how I know."
Robson leans over to Atkinson and whispers sarcastically in her ear, "I think he might be talking about us."
She ignores the amused snicker he lets out, turning to her Captain with a fire in her eyes. "Do we have a high enough clearance to at least know who Lobe is?"
Steve shrugs. "Debatable," he mutters as he works to decide whether it'd be better to kick them out now or see what they may have to offer the investigation. He lets out a long sigh and relents. "We had a run in with Lobe this time last year. We stumbled on an old Hydra base that had been ransacked. He was the culprit… looking for files detailing decades-old tests and experiments done mostly on mutants. We investigated further and found that Lobe was starting up an organization designed to harvest powers from mutants and somehow give them to normal humans."
"Jesus," Robson mutters. "Is that possible?"
"We weren't sure then… but we now believe that San Paulo was one of his experiments – a human he managed to enhance using… well, we're not entirely sure what." He turns back to Vision. "Or how."
The android leans casually back in his chair. "From what I have gathered – and do note, Captain, this is all speculation on my part. Though it is a data-driven hypothesis that I have determined to have a high statistical probability of being accurate. My hypothesis is that Dr. Scofield discovered a way to isolate the Mutant Growth Hormone that was produced by the M-gene once exposed to certain levels of radiation. This, of course, was well after Dr. Sullivan studied the M-gene with him in Minsk."
Steve clears his throat harshly, a quick warning to not mention Tessa's name for the time being. It's a dictate that the rather intuitive robot quickly recognizes.
"Yes, of course," he mutters before forging on. "As I said, I believe that Dr. Scofield did manage to isolate the hormone, and from there was able to dose study participants with it." He looks up at Steve. "It's my understanding that few of these participants survived?" Steve nods. "I'm not a geneticist, of course," he says, giving the Captain an almost conspiratorial look. " But it would stand to reason that the hormone would be more stable if harvested from its natural genetic forbearer, a functional X-gene. It's possible that the MGH with which the subjects were treated simply had… unforeseen consequences."
"Whatever the reason, San Paulo must've realized he wasn't going to last much longer," Steve decides. "He agreed to do the attack because Lobe promised to pay his family."
"How do you know that?" Natasha asks.
He shoots her a quick, warning glare… all she needs to understand that this isn't something he can share with everyone in the room.
Atkinson clears her throat and waits for the Captain to turn to her. "He may not have been the only surviving subject. There was a woman with him. Every time they went out, to the base you found, I guess… even the last time he was seen in Bonito, that same woman was with him. No one mentioned seeing her since then… but she could still be out there."
"Did we get a description?"
She nods. "Average height. Caucasian. Dark blond or light brown hair… long. Blue eyes and a nice smile." She shrugs. "No one gave us anything more in-depth. I think we all got the impression they did their best to ignore tourists and outsiders."
"Captain," Vision's voice breaks in. "If I may?" Steve nods for him to go on. "It is possible that, after realizing the MGH they had was corrupted, Lobe's team began working on alternate ways to imbue mutant powers."
"Such as?"
"Tissue engineering. If you recall, from the transcript of Dr. – " he stops short of saying Tessa's name, awkwardly catching himself mid-phrase. "The transcript from the meeting with Mr. Calvin… he did say that Lobe was looking into the possibility of harvesting tissues from mutants and implanting them into humans in the hopes of sparking genetic adhesion."
"Harvesting tissues," Robson chimes, a disgusted look on his face. "Man…"
"Yes, indeed. It would be terribly invasive if not fatal for the mutant subject. But perhaps – with the help of Dr. Kramer – the tissue would be able to take root in the human host, spread the X-gene throughout and produce MGH… naturally. If this woman is still alive, a possible explanation could be that she received this treatment instead."
"Maybe," Steve says with a slow, assessing nod. "Or maybe she just got lucky… and her luck's about to run out."
000
When Bucky comes back into their bedroom that evening – far too early for him to be going to bed – Tessa only barely registers the creaking of the door. He slowly shucks his socks and jeans and climbs under the covers with her. She rolls over and into him, just barely awake as he wraps himself around her, holding her close. He slowly works his fingers through her messy hair, softly apologizing every now and then when they snag on a particularly gnarly knot.
She barely notices, and she doesn't say a word.
"I called your new assistant a little while ago," he says after what feels like an hour of silence. "Told her you wouldn't be in tomorrow either." His tone is easy, cadence calm, but her stomach turns every time she gets a hit of his anxious energy.
"Okay," she mutters blankly, her voice hoarse from disuse.
He lets out a deep sigh, his hand stilling on her head mid stroke. "You're kind of scaring me, doll," he utters. When she says nothing, he pulls in a long breath and lays a chaste kiss on the top of her head. "Will you tell me what I can do?" he asks, voice so hesitant it makes her cringe.
She wiggles closer to him and gingerly wraps her arms around his middle, offering him what little reassurance she can muster. But she says nothing. What is there to say? What can he do? Can he bring back everyone who's gone? Can he change the trajectory of the world? Can he take her back in time to when just being in his arms was enough to make her feel safe and content?
"I love you," he murmurs into her hair as he tugs her closer. "If that's all I can do, I'll just keep doing that."