Author's Note: PLEASE PLEASE read the note at the end of this chapter, it's super important! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, you're the literal best.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, sadly.
"You wear guilt like shackles on your feet."
The Beatles were playing out of an old stereo Clint had dug out from the attic, Alana's fingers drumming along to the beat as she starred at the man who sat on the end of the bed. His bulking figure made it so her feet were sinking into the dip he had created in the mattress.
Blue eyes drifted once again to the fluid bag that still hung above her, the IV stuck into her arm, before they once again landed on Alana's face. There used to be a point at which people would describe her appearance as soft, but that had been years ago. Now stress lines were evident, the lines between her eyebrows almost a constant thing.
There hadn't been anyone to wipe them away – like she used to do with first Steve, then Bucky - in a long time.
Her expression had hardened, but she was still a looker. She drew people in, they wanted to ask why she looked the way she did. What had caused the almost eerie look that never quite fully disappeared from her eyes. The laugh lines were faded, her dimples practically wiped out of existence. No, Alana Mercer didn't look like a person who was about to get a happy ending. She didn't look like she was hoping for one either. She looked like a puzzle, a mystery that so many wanted to figure out, if for no other goal than to see how beautiful she could be if she ever fully smiled.
Steve had always thought her pretty. He could remember her back when they first met. An agent who had blatantly ignored protocol and snuck into his room to explain the situation right away. She had thought that trying to trick Steve into thinking it was still 1945 was just plain wrong. She wouldn't stand for it, so she had taken action. She had picked the route that would benefit Steve, not thinking much on how Fury would tear her a new one for it later that night.
Steve Rogers thought of that now as he looked at her. "I talked to the twins."
Alana's mouth twitched in irritation, "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. They have names, Rogers." Steve nodded his head.
"Wanda and Pietro," He corrected himself, "They explained everything. Best they could, at least." Alana's gaze didn't falter away as she listened, watching Steve look down at his hands, wringing them together.
It was a nervous habit of his, and just like she'd done those first few months that he was out of the ice, she stilled the movement by placing one of her hands on top. The Captain looked back up at her, his lips pulling up just a bit in a sad smile, "They couldn't tell me why you didn't tell us before." He shrugged his broad shoulders once.
"If I told you, then you would've tracked me down. Hydra would've caught on and then they may have wiped all my memories away." Alana turned one of Steve's hands over, threading her fingers with his, "I'd rather fight you and know who you are than forget everything. Though I never liked the isolation they kept me in, I rather liked being kept company by the ghosts of memories that I had with all of you."
"I could've-" Steve's words died on his lips when she raised her eyebrows at him.
"It wasn't on you. Not your job, Steve. I'm a big girl," She patted their joined hands with her free hand once, "I can take care of myself."
The blonde smiled wryly, "Says the girl with an IV and a gunshot wound."
"I'll be good as new by tomorrow morning." They both knew she was right. The two lapsed into a comfortable silence then, just listening to the music that filled the space around them.
Alana had seen Tony earlier that morning, the scientist barging into the room as soon as Clint had told him she was awake. They'd had an actually heart-to-heart, the scientist not really understanding why Alana hadn't trusted him to try and get the chip out of her brain.
He had pointed out that it's still there, but she'd assured him it was now just a trivial fact about her.
Tony had stayed almost an hour with her before leaving, mock scolding her for never telling him Barton was married on his way out.
She had seen Laura after that, the two women catching up and talking about everything except for Alana's line of work. The kids had been told Alana needed her rest, but really she just wasn't ready to face them yet.
Alana didn't think she deserved to be looked at like she was a hero just yet, and that's how Clint's children always made her feel.
So that only left Bucky.
"How is he?" It didn't take a genius to figure out she was asking Steve about his best friend. The super soldier frowned slightly, letting out a sigh.
"Considering everything. He's alright." Alana nodded her head, knowing she was to blame for practically everything he was going through. "You wanna see'em?"
"No." She didn't even think about it, which just made Steve frown even more. Alana moved her hands away from Steve's, cracking her knuckles as she explained herself, "I don't know what I'd say."
"Sorry," Her head snapped up to give Steve a surprised look. He was rarely so blunt with her. "Maybe? Just a suggestion."
"I take responsibility for my actions,"
"You don't apologize for them." Steve had heard the line many times before, so it was easy for him to finish for her. The look she was giving him told Steve that Alana wasn't amused in the slightest. "Explain it to'em. You-"
"Ya know what, Steve?" Alana cut him off, "I'm actually pretty tired right now. I'm gunna take a nap, if you don't mind." He knew she was just getting rid of him; she knew he knew that too. The Captain narrowed his eyes, slowly getting off the bed and rising to his feet.
He crossed his arms over his chest, his head dipping towards her slightly, "You can't just run away from him. He's my friend, I just don't want you to hurt him more than you already have."
If Steve had thrown his shield at her chest Alana thinks that would've hurt less than the words he throws at her. The hurt shows clear across her face and in her eyes, so much so that Steve has to look away from her. She doesn't speak up until he's almost out of the room, "What about me?" She asks, her words sounding a lot more audacious than she feels, "Am I your friend, Rogers?"
He turns to look back at her, his gaze looking as old as he actually is, "I've gotta think about that one."
"Well," She tilted her head slightly, "If it means anything at all, I'd still take a bullet for you."
Steve didn't say anything in response before he walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself. She regretted asking him to leave only three minutes after he was gone. Alana wasn't tired in the slightest, if anything she was itching to get up and do something. Now she was stuck in bed with no one to keep her company. It wasn't that she was lonely – she didn't get lonely much nowadays – she was just left alone with her thoughts.
Alana briefly wished that Delta was there to keep her company, but Clint had told her they'd left the dog at Stark Tower. Pepper was watching him.
The mental picture made Alana grin slightly.
The darkness made her heartrate pick up. It was late and she hadn't thought about it until someone flipped the hallway light off, the glow that had seeped into the room underneath the doorframe disappearing.
Alana's mind instantly jumped back to the room Hydra had first kept her in. When they just started the new experiments. The dark, damp room in which she would be kept after they put her in the chair. After they'd put that helmet on her, sending shockwaves through her brain to test her limits, watching the activity as it spiked in certain areas of her head.
The helmet had covered her eyes; it was dark too.
It had felt like they were shocking the life out of her, and her hands began to sweat as she remembered that too. Those had been strapped down – her hands – for the safety of the doctors working with her. They always said with her, not on her.
"Keep working with the asset." Those were the words. She remembered all the words. All the codes, all the times they punched her, beat her, threatened her.
Alana's breathing had gotten faster, her chest constricting.
She wanted a light on, wanted out of the memories.
But she couldn't will herself to move, not even to reach up and flip a simple switch. She could take orders, she could lay out battle plans, she could carry out a flawless assassination.
She couldn't flip on a lamp.
Alana moved her arms to cover her head, startling herself when the IV tube touched her cheek. It made her panic, reminding her of the drugs they had pumped into her veins, and she ripped it out, throwing it into the wall. The sound of the needle hitting the wall seemed as loud as a bomb exploding in the silent room.
Her hands clutched to her head now, Alana leaning forwards and ignoring the feeling of blood dripping down her arm from where the needle had been. Her hip only mildly ached, the bullet wound itself now completely healed over.
She was only in that position for a minute, the sound of a lamp flicking on made her shoot to attention, her eyes swinging over to land on the silhouette that stood just inside the room. The light only illuminated half of his face, but she knew it was Bucky. The metal arm wasn't something she usually overlooked.
He closed the door behind himself, turning to look back at her. He didn't ask for permission, just walked forwards and sat in the nearby armchair that Clint had occupied earlier in the day.
His voice was guarded when he spoke, "Heard you throw the IV at the wall." He nodded towards the dangling object, drops of fluid hitting the floor in a steady rhythm. Bucky's eyes drifted to her arm, his lips pursing when he saw the blood.
Alana glanced at it too, quickly wiping it off her arm with her shirt. He found it easier to talk when she wasn't looking at him, "Steve said you didn't wanna see me." Her silence was in affirmation to his question. "Look, all I wanna know is why you got close to me when you got back. We're alone now, that's the only time you ever talk to me." The last line had a harsher tone to it, making her physically flinch.
She found it easier to talk without looking at him too, so they both starred down at their laps. "I'm selfish." He'd never heard her sound so small. "And I'm a coward. I always planned to go with the twins," Bucky's jaw clenched along with his metal hand, the mechanics whirring softly. "I didn't know if I'd die when the remote was destroyed, so I tried to keep my distance."
"That wasn't-"
"I know," She cut him off, "That wasn't keeping my distance but I couldn't help myself. I, the nightmares. And I couldn't sit there while you were in pain either,"
Bucky scoffed, "You stabbed me." When she didn't respond, Bucky thought he was just being ignored.
Until he heard he heard a rather ugly sounding sniffle come from her. His gaze rose to look upon her, finding Alana with a trembling jaw that she was desperately trying to keep still. She was failing on keeping back the tears.
In the back of his mind Bucky thought she deserved to feel bad. She deserved to be in this much pain because of what she put him through.
He felt like an asshole. Making a pretty dame cry.
He just sat and watched her pull herself together. "I had to finish my own mission." He could barely hear her, "Because if you couldn't get it out, couldn't shut off that piece'a fuckery that's in my head. What would stop them from making me their shitty little puppet again? I'd rather be dead."
"Al-"
"Asset 87, that's what they called me. Never by my name. And I did everything they told me too, without question. Because they threatened you. If it was anyone else, maybe I could've stood up to them. But not when they dangled you above my head," the words tumbled out of her mouth now, rolling over one another, "Said they'd bring you back in, wipe you again. 'He wouldn't remember you at all' that's what they said. And I couldn't live with that, Bucky, I don't know why but the thought of you not knowing who I even was anymore was…" She trailed off, finding the courage to look up at him, "I wouldn't be able to live with that. So I would rather be dead. I didn't know what crushing that stupid remote would do, but it had to be done. Steve wouldn't let them try if there was a chance I would die."
They both were silent after that, Bucky not knowing what to say to her.
He understood some of what she said, he had been Hydra's puppet himself. But they had taken his memories. He hadn't consciously murdered people he had worked with, had cared about before. Bucky hadn't remembered he even had a name. He didn't know he'd had a choice to stand up to the doctors.
Thinking of it from that angle…Bucky couldn't imagine what it would be like.
And then she'd had to go on and mention that he was the main reason. Not Natasha, not Clint, not the team as a whole. He was her Achilles heel. Bucky didn't think he could ever forget her, couldn't imagine what his life would've been if anyone else but Alana had helped him find himself again.
When she went and spoke like that Bucky knew he could forgive her someday. But for now, he just didn't know how to voice any of that.
Alana too afraid to ask what he was thinking. Her mind went back to her dream. How vivid it had been, how happy she had felt.
'I love you'. They were words she was too selfish to say.
As cliché as it was, Bucky Barnes was that missing piece of herself that Alana had lost years ago. She couldn't lose him, didn't want him to forget who she was. Because maybe, just maybe, there were a few good memories of her that he held close to him.
Though neither one of them had ever had a very good track record when it came to talking about feelings or relationships or forgiveness, so neither of them said anything about it.
"That blood should be properly cleaned up," He told her, nodding towards the still hanging needle, "And that should be back in your arm. I can get some supplies and do it." He was already standing up as he spoke. Alana noticed how his left side tightened, realizing quickly that he hadn't had anyone look at where she had stabbed him.
"Get a toolbox," She called out to him, Bucky now a few feet away, "I can fix up your arm."
It was one thing they both knew. They knew how to help each other survive.
The next morning Alana got out of bed, making her way down the hall before knocking on one of the wooden doors. It took a few moments for Steve to open the door.
Wordlessly, she held out a piece of folded paper to him. Steve's eyebrows came together as he carefully took it, sending her a confused glance before opening it.
Alana knew each word she had written down, watching Steve scan the page, his lips pursing together.
She had written it the night before, after she'd finished fixing the severed wiring in Bucky's arm. Undoing her own handiwork, seeing the damage she had dealt without a second thought, it had solidified her decision. In what she had told Natasha and Clint before; she couldn't live like this anymore.
'To whom it may concern,
No one's told me who the Director is nowadays, but this'll get to you eventually. Captain, you get your own copy as well, seeing as we voted you head of our little assemblage. You know who I am, Alana Mercer, probably know more about me than I do. Over a decade ago I was recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D by Clinton Francis Barton. And today, (insert today's date, whenever you read it), I formally submit my impending resignation from STRIKE Team: Delta, and by extension, the Avengers Initiative.
My active duty and on-call service to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division will be terminated twenty-four hours after Ultron is destroyed. Due to recent events I believe that I am unable to continue my service due to both psychological injuries and personal biases. For the majority of my life I have held my head up high. I fought the fights that S.H.I.E.L.D chose me to go fight and I bear the scars of the repercussions of my own mistakes and imprisonments. I have done my time for this organization.
Special Agent Brewster Alana Mercer.'
The Captain folded the letter back up, looking at the woman who still stood before him, her hands clasped together behind her back. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he waved the letter slightly, "What'd you mean by personal biases?"
Alana answered smoothly, "I feel as though I would no longer be able to carry out orders without question. Without being distracted by whomever I was working with."
"You say that and then ask to still help destroy Ultron?" Steve looked down at her, his shoulders sagging, "How's that different?"
"Ultron's different. He's not just threatening a country; he's threatening the world. You're a crazy old man if you think I'm just going to stand by and do nothing." Steve was silent as he thought it over, weighing what he knew about her and what she had said. In his gut, he knew he could trust her. Despite everything. Maybe that made him crazy.
"You'd better get a suit, then." Her lips pulled up slightly, "Can't fight a war without a uniform." Alana let out a breathy chuckle, standing up a bit taller being raising her right hand in a salute.
"You've got it, Cap." It was Steve's turn to chuckle, but he saluted her back all the same.
"It's your last fight, make it count. Dismissed." Their hands dropped to their sides, Alana turned on her heel to make her way down the hallway. At the top of the stairs she turned back, catching Steve's eye as he still watched her from the doorway.
She smirked, "I doubt it'll be my last fight."
Thanks for reading! I've got a great announcement, like you'll love it (hopefully)! Ready? Drum roll, wait for it, wait for it.
I've decided that my next story will be Alana/Bucky! I have it narrowed down to three different possibilities and I REALLY wanna know which one everyone likes more! Here they are:
ONE: A sequel to this story. (which only has two chapters left) There will be a slight time jump ahead and then pick up where everyone is. Unfortunately, it won't follow Civil War, since the movie hasn't come out yet so I don't really know the events for that and I will start publishing before it's released. There may not (or maybe there will be) too much action stuff going on, mostly just what Alana does now that she's no longer obligated to S.H.I.E.L.D.
TWO: Other idea, inspired by a scene from last chapter. It's a retelling of this story, but Alana never joined S.H.I.E.L.D. So you would get to see how she would've grown up if Clint had never brought her in. See what she got into and what happened to her. It really became a big idea when Clint wondered if she'd be better off today if he'd left her alone all those years ago. I don't wanna spoil the idea I have for that but she will end up interacting with everyone.
THREE: A Bucky/Alana AU where the story is set during WWII. The format would be a series of drabbles of the two of them, most likely this would only have around ten chapters. This one would be the most light-hearted of the three options.
I'll be changing the poll on my profile to options one, two and three, and if EVERYONE could vote that would be super awesome of you! One last thing, I really love reviews, I'm still messaging excerpts from the upcoming chapter if you leave one too! It may take a day or two for me to reply because, like, I've gotta write the excerpt first before I send it to you!