Chapter 19
Lucy sighed, shut the book and laid it on the coffee table, then sank back into the couch, closing her eyes for a few moments. Her brain was exhausted after hours of studying, and although it was technically a good thing to have the Russian words and phrases jostling around in her mind, she felt like she needed to clear it for a while.
She pushed herself off of the couch and went to her media shelves, taking a seat on the floor in front of her few rows of CDs. She browsed through them, pulling out one every so often before pushing it back into place. It was one of those frustrating instances where she wasn't sure what she was in the mood for. Something relaxing, comforting or distracting. Preferably all three. But nothing was striking her fancy. With a sigh, she gave up, leaning back on her hands, staring blankly at the shelves.
Then, an idea struck her.
She reached for her phone on the coffee table behind her and began to search for nearby music stores. It had already been a few weeks since DC had been made her new home, and she had been entertaining the notion of getting out and doing something different for a while now. She had gradually become more comfortable in the city, and with no steady, day-to-day job, and nothing too serious to occupy her but S.H.I.E.L.D.-assigned homework, she was ready for a change of scenery. And, apparently, some new music. She was sure to find some good classic albums somewhere in the city, and even if she didn't end up buying anything, browsing was always enjoyable. And at least it wasn't studying. She definitely hadn't missed the homework aspect of school.
Bundled in a lightweight sweater and a scarf to ward off the autumn chill, she grabbed a jacket and left her apartment. She was only partway down the stairs when another idea made her stop short. After a moment of consideration, she turned back and climbed up to the third floor.
She approached Steve's apartment door and knocked. It wasn't too long before she heard his footsteps on the other side, then the door opened. He looked slightly taken aback when he saw her.
She smiled. "Hey, I was just about to go check out a music store, and I wondered if you'd want to come with me. If . . . you're not busy."
Steve shook his head and smiled. "I'm not really. I was just watching a movie that Natasha recommended. Very strongly. She said that if I didn't watch it, I couldn't function in society."
Lucy raised her eyebrows. "What movie?"
"The Matrix."
"Really?" Lucy cracked an amused grin. "Well, it is a good one. Is that what you've been doing since we came here? Catching up on movies?"
"Mostly," Steve replied, and Lucy caught the implication. He, of course, was in the process of learning at least one new language himself.
"Well, I don't want to interrupt the excitement," Lucy began, but Steve stopped her before she could attempt to leave.
"No, don't worry about it. It'll still be here when we get back." He stepped aside, motioning for her to enter the apartment. "Come in, I'll just get my jacket."
Lucy entered, closing the door behind her as Steve moved into an adjacent room. Strangely enough, it was the first time that she had been inside his place. Though she couldn't see much of it from the entryway, it seemed considerably like her own. Yet it felt different. This was a man's apartment. She had never entered a single man's house before. But it was Steve's, so any potential discomfort or awkwardness was nonexistent. On the contrary, she rather liked the idea of staying awhile; maybe watching the rest of that movie . . . but she would never impose herself upon him, or anyone, for that matter. She had never been too bold in that way. Probably one of the reasons why she had never had a boyfriend—
"Alright, let's go."
Lucy snapped out of her thoughts as Steve reappeared, and with a smile she led the way out of the apartment and down the stairs.
The sun was out in full force, and the chill in the air was refreshing. As she walked alongside her friend, Lucy began to feel somewhat . . . normal. Mundane activities such as walking down a city block and a shopping excursion often seemed so far out of reach now, it was a relief to rediscover those simple pleasures amid the covert missions and her almost-constant preparation for future assignments. Russian wasn't the easiest of languages, and her brain was thankful for the reprieve.
The shop was a little hole-in-the-wall place from the outside, but as soon as Lucy and Steve stepped through the door, it appeared as though the owner intended to compete with any large music store. The shelves and walls were absolutely packed, but everything was clearly well organized and appealing to the eye. Immediately Lucy knew that she would be able to find something special here.
Her eyes scanned the racks, searching for the desired section. The albums—in the form of both modern CDs and classic vinyl—were so pleasantly displayed that, much like in a good bookstore, she found herself wanting to buy things that she normally wouldn't, just for the visual appeal. But she stayed on track, and soon located the jazz section.
It was a feast for the eyes, and she almost didn't know where to begin as she walked down the aisle. Steve followed a couple of steps behind, seeming just as interested in the rows upon rows of albums. Lucy stopped in front of one rack and began to flip through an assortment of records, despite not having a record player. She wondered if Steve had one . . . she should probably check . . .
"Do you listen to records?" she asked casually, glancing at the man beside her. He was currently turning over an Ella Fitzgerald album in his hands. It looked to be in good condition.
He slipped it back into place between the other records as he replied. "I do. I don't have many, though."
With this information, Lucy began to browse more intently, waiting for something to catch her eye amongst the plethora of titles. She recalled their many conversations regarding music, and his reactions to various artists and tracks that she had played. Maybe they had some good Sinatra . . .
Suddenly she noticed that Steve had gone quiet and still. She glanced up at him. He was staring down at a record in his hands. His eyes seemed distant. She leaned a bit closer to take a peek at the cover.
Harry James & His Orchestra: "It's Been A Long, Long Time"
She had never heard of this one. She looked up into Steve's face. There was something in his contemplative expression. Something that made her chest ache. What did this song mean to him? She wanted to ask—but somehow felt that she shouldn't.
A second later, Steve noticed her gaze and tucked the record back into the jumble. Lucy didn't stop herself from asking her next question: "You're not going to get it?"
He looked hesitant for a moment, as if he wanted to say "No," but wasn't actually certain.
With barely another thought, Lucy spoke again. "Then, it can be my treat."
Steve looked at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. "What?"
"I'll get it for you. It can be a belated birthday present, since . . . I missed your birthday." She smiled, trying not to think about where she had been during the last two summer months.
Steve gave her a kind smile, but there was something more behind his eyes. "Don't worry about that. You don't have to get me anything."
"No, really, I want to," she insisted, smiling back and reaching for the record. But she paused. "Do you . . . want this one? Or do you want to pick something else?"
Steve shook his head. "Nah, this is fine." His eyes seemed to soften as he gazed down at her. "Thanks."
As she pulled the album back out of the rack, Steve said, "Speaking of birthdays, I don't think I ever found out yours. I didn't miss it, did I?"
"Mine? Oh, it's November twenty-second." She felt a little embarrassed for some reason, and almost told him that he didn't need to get her anything, but she realized that if he were to tell her the same thing, she would be disappointed, and would likely buy him a gift anyway. So she left it at that, and began to move farther down the aisle, browsing as she went.
Twenty minutes later, the pair left the shop with two bags. Lucy had found herself a new Glenn Miller CD, and Steve had purchased a Frank Sinatra album, which Lucy had offered to pay for as well, but he had insisted that the Harry James was plenty.
The sunshine was uplifting, and by the time they returned home, Lucy was feeling significantly better. Still, the thought of tackling her studies wasn't too welcome just yet. Maybe she should have broached the subject of going out for lunch . . .
"If you'd like," Steve began as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, "you're welcome to join me for the rest of the movie."
Lucy didn't even take time to consider the offer. "Sounds like just what I need right now." She gladly bypassed her landing and followed Steve up to his apartment.
Soon, the two were seated comfortably on the cream-colored sofa, watching Neo and Smith go at it in an always-impressive display of visual-effects prowess. It had been years since Lucy had seen the movie, so many of the scenes were practically a new experience for her. She caught herself glancing at Steve periodically, wondering what he thought of modern moviemaking. This was probably not his introduction to contemporary visual effects, but if they were still impressive to her, someone who was exposed to them all the time, how much more amazing must they be to someone who was used to black-and-white movies? As she realized that she would finally get a chance to talk to him about the subject, her mind began to create a list of movies to recommend—and she would have to find out what he's seen so far . . .
Eventually the movie came to an end, and Steve seemed to have enjoyed it.
They discussed various aspects of the story and visual effects, which led them down the rabbit hole of early film and the industry's progress. Lucy soaked in every word as Steve shared his experiences of the entertainment of the past, and when she mentioned her favorite movies from the thirties and forties, it was an understatement to say that she was pleased to hear that he had seen some of them. She didn't know many people who shared her eclectic taste in film. Especially when it came to movies from the early half of the twentieth century.
"The Marx Brothers are the best, but not many people know about them," Lucy was saying. "The ones I heard about in pop culture growing up were The Three Stooges. I never even watched them."
"You can't really go wrong with Groucho, Chico and Harpo," Steve concurred with a cockeyed grin.
Lucy laughed. "I was always partial to Harpo, but really, it's hard to beat Groucho's witty banter."
As they talked, Lucy realized that she had taken for granted his era of origin. Naturally, when it came to certain movies, he hadn't had the chance to see them, because of the war. She started to make mental plans for movie nights. She couldn't let him go without seeing Arsenic and Old Lace, Gaslight and Shadow of a Doubt for much longer, and if he was open to musicals, Meet Me in St. Louis was a must.
She tried to rein in her eagerness at the thought. It had been ages since she had had a friend to have movie nights with, and even before Lena had moved to Germany, she hadn't entirely shared Lucy's tastes.
"So, how's the Russian coming?" Steve asked, and Lucy refocused her thoughts upon the sudden change of topic.
"Not as easily as I'd hoped," she replied, "but it's coming. As long as I won't be expected to use it in the field in the immediate future, I should be fine. How's the French?"
Steve raised an eyebrow in consideration. "About the same."
Lucy half smiled, half grimaced. "You think there's a super-soldier serum for our brains?"
Steve cocked his head and returned the grimace. "I wouldn't be surprised. Don't go asking around."
She exhaled a slight laugh. "Don't worry. I'm in no hurry to go back to being a guinea pig in the name of self-improvement."
Steve wholeheartedly agreed.
Lucy kept up a steady pace as the brisk November-morning air cut into her lungs. She rounded the far end of the Reflection Pool for the third time, and finally jogged to a stop, back where she had begun. She tried to catch her breath as she made her way to the nearest tree and bent down to retrieve her water bottle. After draining more than half of its contents in one go, she unzipped her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone to check the time. Seven thirty-four. However, her eyes almost immediately drifted to a notification just below. She had a message from Natasha. She opened it quickly.
'Fury's office, ASAP.'
Without a second thought, she pocketed her phone, then grabbed her bag, slipping the water bottle back inside, and hurried off.
When she arrived at the apartment building, she saw that Steve's motorcycle was still parked outside, meaning that he hadn't left yet. She rushed up the stairs to her apartment, pulling out her phone again as she went, and sent a text to Steve: 'Out front in five.'
Regrettably, she wouldn't have time to shower, though she figured that Fury and Natasha wouldn't mind, and she knew that Steve wouldn't. She tossed her phone and her bag onto the bed before digging out a change of clothes from her dresser. It was fortunate that her hair was still short, so she didn't have to pay it any special attention before once again grabbing her phone and keys and heading out. She threw on a jacket on her way down the stairs.
Steve was waiting beside his motorcycle. As she approached, he gave her his signature crooked half-grin. "Took you long enough."
"I think I'm getting faster, actually," Lucy replied with a playful smirk, referencing her morning runs, as she and Steve mounted the bike.
"That so?" the captain humored her as he started the engine, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Challenge excepted." She could sense his smile as they pulled away from the curb and took off down the street.
They entered Fury's office to find him and Natasha standing in front of his desk, scrutinizing the wall-sized display behind the seating area. As Lucy and Steve joined them, Lucy found herself looking at a map.
"What did you find?" Steve asked, his authoritative tone in place as he folded his arms over his chest and took in the information on the screen before him. The map was zeroed in on . . .
"We've tracked the smugglers' activity to a route that frequents the North Atlantic," Natasha informed them. "Our best guess is that they have a base of operations somewhere in Iceland."
Lucy's eyes scanned the coastline of the island on the glowing blue display. "When do we leave?"
"Now," Fury said, turning and striding back to his desk. "The team's waiting for you."
Lucy glanced at Steve, and he at her, as they simultaneously headed for the door, Natasha close behind.
Lucy had always wanted to go to Iceland someday. But under different circumstances, when she could enjoy the landscape and perhaps just a slight chill in the air, or even no chill at all. Not this bitterly cold temperature and a flatland with no obstacles to break up the buffeting wind as clouds hung darkly overhead. The insulated suit was helping to keep her warm enough, as was her adrenaline, but the air bit at her exposed face as the team crossed the terrain in an organized and efficient manner. The last time that they had dealt with this band of smugglers—which, as it turned out, was a much larger group than they had previously known—the landscape had been completely different. The last time that Lucy had felt this exposed was when she had run through the streets of New York, avoiding Chitauri attacks, then placed herself in the line of fire in the middle of the street with an alien weapon clutched in her hands. She longed for nightfall or the cover of trees. But she kept her eyes on the surrounding area, and there were no signs of any armed guards. Yet.
The fishing town seemed quiet. The team stealthily skirted the outlying buildings, guns poised for sudden confrontation.
Steve stopped at the corner of a weather-worn garage, and motioned for the rest of the team to do the same. He peered around back, across the next road, toward the moderately sized target warehouse. Lucy wished that she could see what he saw, but she waited patiently for his verdict. When he looked back to the agents, he held up three fingers. Three guards. Lucy nodded, tightening her grip on her gun just slightly.
Rumlow and the rest of the team doubled back and circled around the garage, in order to ambush the targets from more than one angle, while Steve, Lucy and Natasha held their current position.
At least for a few seconds.
Lucy heard movement behind her, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Natasha disappear behind the next building. She turned back to Steve and crept closer to him and the corner of the garage, trying to get a glimpse of the targets' positions. The men were stationed in sloppy intervals near the door of their building. They were all facing outward, so sneaking up behind them wouldn't be an option. One of them shifted his weight, and Lucy just managed to pull back out of sight as he started to look in her direction.
"How do you want to do this, Cap?" Rumlow's voice came through their comms.
Steve replied almost immediately, keeping his voice low and hushed. "I'll rush them, block any fire. The rest of you keep on my flank. There might be more waiting just behind those doors, so be ready; there's no way to keep this quiet."
Suddenly, movement caught Lucy's eye at the edge of her peripheral vision. She looked up to the roof of a smaller building to the left of the warehouse. Natasha's red hair stood out like a beacon against the stark grey of the overcast sky as she crouched near the edge of the roof. Luckily, the men below were oblivious. Lucy tapped Steve's arm with the back of her hand and pointed to Black Widow's current position. Then, her voice came over the comms, low and subdued: "I can take the two closest to me. The third one's up for grabs."
Lucy looked at Steve quizzically. He only seemed to mull this change of plan over for a moment before giving her the okay, a slight smirk on his lips. "Suit yourself. Everyone else, follow my lead."
Lucy's muscles tensed in anticipation as she kept her eyes on Natasha.
The redhead snuck toward the edge of the roof, swung herself over, and dropped silently to the ground, a few meters behind the nearest guard. Lucy felt Steve shift beside her, and just as Natasha was reaching for her first target, the captain raced out from behind the garage, straight toward the armed men. Lucy followed right on his heels as gunfire filled the previously quiet town, the bullets deflecting off of the vibranium shield.
The brief cacophony ceased as Steve disarmed the third guard, and while Lucy moved toward the warehouse door, gun raised, she noticed that Natasha had successfully taken care of her two opponents. She heard multiple footfalls approaching as Rumlow and the rest of the team joined them.
"Could've saved some for the rest of us," Rumlow joked, but another set of footsteps reached Lucy's ears. She stopped, eyes on the door, and quickly moved back, her adrenaline spiking.
"There's plenty more for you," she said, though her comment didn't seem all that funny to her as the door burst open and more armed men poured out, ready for the confrontation that awaited them.
In the time that it took the first man to take in the sight of the people before him, Lucy could have pulled the trigger and taken him out easily, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it, and her window of time to grab and subdue him was over before it had even crossed her mind as the rest of the men surrounded him, guns all raised. There were nearly a dozen.
A strong hand grabbed Lucy's arm, and she found herself doubled over behind the captain as a hail of bullets pounded against his shield. STRIKE returned fire, and the smugglers started dropping. Lucy heard a few agents go down as well, and she hoped that their body armor had caught the worst of it. Determined to not be useless, she peered out from behind Steve, squinting against the piercing din of metal on metal, and took aim at the nearest smuggler. Sparks sprayed into her line of sight as the shield continued to block the onslaught, but she managed to keep her aim steady.
She took a deep breath.
And fired.
The man stumbled backwards and fell, and she knew that she had hit him somewhere in his midsection. Hopefully nowhere fatal, she thought, remembering the bloody and traumatic aftermath of her battle in the cargo hold of the ship. She took aim at the next man, and soon he had joined his friend on the ground.
The racket of gunfire lessened, then finally ceased. Steve lowered his shield and straightened. At his side, Lucy observed their handiwork. Most of the men were no longer breathing, but a few groaned, and some appeared to be unconscious, with mere flesh wounds and not enough blood surrounding them to indicate that they had bled out.
Lucy approached the first man that she had shot. He was holding his side, and she grimaced internally, but tried not to think about it. Instead, she zeroed in on his gun and kicked it out of his reach. She saw Steve doing the same to one of the other men as some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents joined them. Lucy turned to Rumlow, glad to see that he was unharmed, then looked behind him. Three agents lay in the road. Her stomach sank, and fear gripped her, until she saw that all of them were moving.
Rumlow noticed her line of sight. "The body armor did its job," he assured her. "They'll shake it off in no time."
"That seems lucky."
He shrugged a shoulder. "You'd be surprised how many people don't take the head shot."
"Anyone want to join me?" Natasha's clear tone rang out suddenly, drawing Lucy's attention to where she stood, by the door through which the armed men had come.
Steve was right behind her as she opened the door and hurried into the darkened interior of the warehouse, and Lucy was next to follow. Rumlow and the STRIKE agents who weren't still recovering brought up the rear.
Lucy expected to be met with more gunfire, but no other adversaries intercepted them. She somehow found it hard to believe that these people would have been so careless as to send every one of their men outside to face them. She kept her eyes and ears open for any signs of movement as the team made their way down a narrow hallway in semi-darkness, barely making a sound. As the tense seconds wore on, Lucy steeled her nerves. The pistol in her hands reminded her that anything could happen at any moment, and she may no longer have the luxury of sparing the men's lives. She had trained in scenarios like this in the woods outside of the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, and she knew that when it came down to it, her reaction to an immediate threat would likely be instinctual, visceral and swift. No time for thought. Her gun would move, and she would have to accept the results.
Deep breath.
She was ready.
She cast her vigilant gaze around the main room as it expanded before them. Again she started to feel exposed, but the solid presence of the captain beside her was reassuring.
Though their footsteps were quiet, they seemed much too loud in the cavernous space. Lucy strained her ears to pick up anything beyond the subtle movements of her team. Why was it so quiet? A pit of unease formed in her stomach. Something wasn't right, and she knew that Steve, Natasha and the others had to know it, too.
Click.
The tiny sound shot through her like an electric pulse.
She reacted in the same instant as Steve, pivoting to point her weapon at the catwalk on the right-hand side of the room. It was too dark to see properly, but Lucy could make out a shadowy form, pressed down against the metal walkway, before a gunshot rang out. The bullet hit the wall behind Steve and Natasha, and Lucy pulled her trigger without hesitation. She saw the sparks as her round ricocheted off of the railing above, but kept trying, some of the team joining in as they fanned out around the perimeter of the room.
Suddenly, the shadow receded, and Lucy's senses were wide open as she scanned the area for the appearance of another. Where were they? How many were there? Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain calm. Her eyes briefly sought out the locations of her teammates, who were methodically making their way around the room, checking any doorway and obstacle that they came to. She crossed to the other side of the room and pressed herself to the wall beneath the catwalk. She checked left, then right, then made for a stack of crates, gun raised. When she found no one there, she almost felt relieved, but she couldn't allow herself a moment of ease.
Despite the heightened activity in the room, the noise was still minimal. Lucy wondered if the remaining smugglers were as skilled at stealth as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. She couldn't imagine that they were, but they certainly knew how to use this warehouse to their advantage.
Suddenly, gunfire rang out again, followed by brief shouting from Rumlow. Lucy took cover behind a nearby support pillar and scanned the room for the enemy's location. The other agents were directing their fire upward, out of her line of sight.
Before she could formulate a course of action, movement caught the corner of her eye. Instantly, memories of her last mission—her pursuit of the terrorist down the hallway and out the back of the other warehouse—flashed through her mind, and her eyes darted to her right, staring into the shadows, beyond a stack of large metal canisters.
Her focus was so intense that she barely registered the sound of the captain and his shield dealing out blows to at least one smuggler somewhere overhead as the racket of gunfire continued from another source. Then, the shadows shifted again, and a silhouette became clear.
The man clearly hadn't seen her yet, so she made her move without hesitation. She stepped quickly behind the canisters, sliding her gun back into place on her thigh, and in two seconds she had her arms around the man's neck. She hauled him backwards, successfully throwing him off balance, and twisted around, bringing him to the concrete floor before he had the chance to get his wits about him. He struggled, and she tried to focus her weight into a central point in his back, using all she had against his larger frame.
She was still in the process of attempting to render him unconscious when she saw another silhouette emerge from a doorway ahead of her. She could make out a rifle gripped in both of his hands as he darted behind a stack of crates. Lucy's wide eyes went to her team. Everyone was still occupied with the other targets. No one was looking in this direction. The man had a clear shot of almost everyone.
Moving as if by instinct, Lucy slammed her captive's head into the concrete—once, twice—until she was sure that he was unconscious but not dead, then launched herself to her feet. She nearly drew her gun and fired at the crates, even just to distract the man with the rifle, but for all that she knew, the crates could be filled with explosives. So instead, she ran to his hidden vantage point as quickly as she could, praying that he wouldn't manage to take out any of her team before she got there.
She wheeled around the side of the stack, and, without hesitation, aimed a strong kick at his lower back, disrupting his aim. He toppled into the crates in front of him, causing a couple to crash to the floor, and Lucy felt a wave of relief that she had stopped him before he'd pulled the trigger. But the relief was short-lived, for the battle was far from over. The man whipped around, scrambling to right himself, looking for the source of the disruption. She came at him again, before he could fully get his bearings, and grabbed the muzzle of the gun, directing it away from herself as she leaned into him, shoving him backwards and into the crates once more.
The man tried to throw her off as she tried to wrest the gun from his hands, but her Artemis enhancements had given her increased speed and agility. She was still lacking in the super-strength department. She was no Captain America. The man swung her into the crates, jarring her, but she managed to hold on to him, determined to avoid giving him an opening to shoot her. The thin body armor in her suit might prevent a bullet from penetrating, but she could only imagine how painful it would be—and that was only if the man didn't take the head shot.
She began to strike at the man's ribs with her knee, applying constant leverage to the gun, but he held on, growling in frustration amid grunts of pain. He tried to throw her off again, but she spun around, her back to his chest, and dropped to the floor, entangling her legs with his. He fell, and the gun went off. Lucy winced at the unexpected deafening noise as the rounds ricocheted off of the nearest wall, acutely aware that if she weren't careful, she could be taking the next rounds in the leg or the stomach. She pinned his dominant right arm down, slamming it and the rifle into the floor repeatedly, while keeping her legs locked with his.
Then, his left fist collided with her ribs, then her shoulder, and she put up her left arm to block the next blow as it came at her head. She took the opportunity to change positions, and rolled over and went for his neck. In seconds, she had him in a choke hold. Bullets sprayed again, with a burst of muzzle flashes, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the noise, praying that none of the rogue bullets would hit any of her teammates. Finally, the racket ceased, and the man went limp, but she held on for another couple of seconds before she deemed it safe to release him. Her muscles slackened, and she rolled the man off of herself, feeling winded.
As she got to her feet, she could tell that she would soon be feeling the effects of the struggle. It had been too long since she had grappled with anyone. Then, she realized that the surrounding gunfire had stopped. She looked past the crates that were still standing, and saw a few black-clad S.H.I.E.L.D. agents appearing to take stock of the aftermath. Before she could count them, her eyes landed on Steve. He looked alright, and she allowed the relief to come and stay this time. He cast his gaze around the room, and it settled on her. She could see the concern in his eyes, even in the shadows. She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile, hoping that she didn't look to terrible after the prolonged one-on-one. He came to meet her as she stepped around the crates.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yeah. You?"
"I'm fine." He glanced back over his shoulder. "I don't think we took any casualties."
"That's good."
"Hey, Cap!" Rumlow called from across the room. He was crouched beside one of the fallen smugglers.
Steve turned to make his way over to him, and Lucy began to follow, but something stopped her in her tracks: a sound somewhere off to her right. Something cold and visceral gripped her stomach. She whipped around just in time to see one of the men lying on the ground raise his arm, pistol in hand.
Aimed directly at the captain.
"Steve!" she cried, and threw herself forward, closing the few feet between them, just as the gunshot rang out.
Pain exploded in her right shoulder, and she was on the floor.
"Lucy!"
A second shot went off, and her eyes searched for Steve in a panic, but he was crouched over her, his hand on her arm, seeming completely unconcerned about the shooter. Lucy groaned through clenched teeth as her shoulder ached, stung and throbbed with agony, and wondered if the bullet had penetrated her suit after all. She squinted up through the pain at the blonde man, and suddenly she was back on that New York City street, surrounded by rubble and the sounds of alien ships in the distance. He had been there then, and he was here now. Only, this time, he wasn't rushing off to fight. This time, he stayed by her side.
However, despite the fact that he wore his mask this time, he looked more worried than before.
"I'm okay . . ." she managed, though it had sounded more reassuring in her head. "I'm fine . . ." She couldn't stifle the strangled moan that followed.
Another figure appeared above her.
Natasha crouched down inspected Lucy's shoulder, careful to avoid touching it.
"It doesn't look like it penetrated," she said. "Probably just some nasty bruising. You're lucky it didn't hit your collar bone. Or your spine."
Lucy didn't want to think about any of the more severe kinds of pain that she could be experiencing. Instead, she inhaled slowly and deeply, closing her eyes, and willed the agony to subside.
Whether it was because of her will or not, the pain did lessen enough for her to get to her feet with Steve's help. She blinked back tears, which she hadn't known were there, and faced the other members of STRIKE, who had gathered nearby and, presumably, observed the entire incident. She straightened as much as she could, wincing only slightly, and looked over at the man who had shot at Steve. He was no longer moving.
"Good eye," Natasha said, giving Lucy a small smile. "What would the captain have done without that reaction time of yours, Artemis?"
Lucy gave a half smile back, accepting the playful compliment, though she suspected that Steve probably would have been alright. He had been in far more battles without her and always come out fine, and she doubted that he had never been injured before. But maybe this time would have been different. Either way, she was glad that she wouldn't have to find out whether or not her split-second reaction had been necessary. The pain was worth the knowledge that he was safe.
But she really hoped that the team had taken care of any other potential threats, because she did not think that she would be up to using herself as a shield again just yet.
Steve kept a hand on her back as they and Natasha made their way over to where Rumlow stood. He crouched down again, beside the man whom he had been looking at when he had called Steve over.
"This is him," he said, and the others took a closer look at the man's face. Lucy could see immediately that he was a match to the photo that they had been shown in the Quinjet: Isak Markov, the suspected leader of the smuggling operation. She felt a layer of tension leave her body.
"Looks like we're done here," Natasha announced matter-of-factly.
Rumlow and a few of the STRIKE agents stayed behind to make a record of the scene, while Steve escorted Lucy from the building, led by Natasha. The fresh, cold air bit at Lucy's exposed skin, but this time it felt good, and she could almost feel it reaching through the thermal layer in her suit and numbing the pain in her shoulder. She tried not to lean into Steve as they made their way out of the small town, but the walk seemed rather daunting, though it wasn't terribly long.
When they finally arrived back at the jet and ascended the ramp, Lucy's face was numb from the wind's chill, and her shoulder was still throbbing relentlessly. She nearly collapsed into one of the seats, withholding a groan, and Steve took the one on her left, simultaneously removing his mask and propping his shield against the wall.
Less than a minute later, Natasha stood in front of Lucy with a syringe-like device. "This will help."
Lucy said nothing, and merely tried not to wince as Natasha placed the device to her shoulder and injected her with pain killer.
"Thanks . . ." she muttered, wondering how long it would be until it took effect.
Not long, as it turned out.
Soon, the rest of the team was on board, and Natasha was commencing liftoff. Lucy closed her eyes as the engine hummed all around her, feeling the sturdy warmth of Steve's shoulder against her uninjured one. The pain was a mild, dull throb now. She wondered whether it was the painkiller that was making her drowsy, or if it had just been a long day.
She decided that it didn't matter, and soon gave in to peaceful, numbing sleep.
Note: At long last! These past few months have been rough. Starting in early April, I was dealing with some personal stuff that made it really hard for me to concentrate on this (though I still worked on it every day). I finally bombed out the last third of the chapter yesterday, and I'm already working on Chapter 20, which I'm so excited for. :DD
It's been over a year since I started writing this story (which feels kind of amazing), and ideally, I would love to get Chapter 20 posted by July 4th, which will be the one-year anniversary of its publication. If all goes as planned, Chapter 20 should be a kind of milestone, so it seems an appropriate date. :)
Thank you so, so much for your continued interest in this story, and thank you to all of my new readers! 3
P.S. Something that's helped me out a lot, and just been a really nice change of pace, is that I've gotten back into reading books. (OverDrive/Libby and Hoopla for the win~) If anyone would like to be friends on GoodReads, message me and I'll send you my profile. :) 3