Chapter 25
"Lucy! Lucy!"
For a moment, she had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that she was lying on something hard, and that a warm hand was gently gripping her arm. But the voice was familiar . . .
"Lucy!"
Steve!
Her eyes flew open, and she inhaled sharply, the memories flooding back so suddenly that panic overtook her.
She sat upright, frantically scanning what she could see of the darkened apartment for any threats. Steve was kneeling beside her, his brow furrowed in concern as he tried to steady her.
"What happened?" he asked urgently. "Are you okay?"
But Lucy's mind was preoccupied, thinking only of the assassin and Fury and how much she might have missed. "Did you get him?"
Steve shook his head gravely. "He got away." Even in the shadows, Lucy could read the regret clearly in his eyes.
"And Fury . . . ?"
"EMTs are on the way," he replied, and Lucy was relieved that she hadn't been unconscious for long.
Her thoughts briefly turned to Kate—Agent 13—before she remembered that the taser disk wasn't what had knocked her out. A deep chill of fear raced through her veins. S.H.I.E.L.D. was back inside of her head. A logical part of herself told her that it didn't matter now; Fury was down, and their location had been discovered even without the chip—or maybe it had worked at some point between electrocutions, long enough for S.H.I.E.L.D. to track her . . .
She stopped herself from thinking too hard about it and focused on her current reality: The chip in her brain was active. For all intents and purposes, she was in enemy territory. Until she knew exactly what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intentions were, she had to be careful. She was fairly certain that she could trust Agent 13, but Fury's words immediately came back to her: "Don't . . . trust . . . anyone." The only person she could be sure about was Steve.
But what about Natasha? she wondered. Natasha was exceedingly loyal to Fury. Lucy couldn't imagine her betraying him, not even for S.H.I.E.L.D. Had he shared any of his suspicions with her? Lucy had to find her—find out if she knew anything—Steve could help—
He could help . . .
In that moment, realization flooded her. She could tell him everything now. Everything. What seemed like the biggest weight of her life was lifted from her.
Then, the sound of multiple footsteps pounded up the last flight of stairs to the third landing and approached the door, and the weight crashed back down. There was no time. Despite her mind racing with everything that she had to say, and her heart aching with the desire to finally come clean, Lucy put it all aside, once again, as the medics entered the apartment and Agent 13 called them over to where Fury lay.
She was about to get to her feet when Steve stopped her with both hands on her shoulders. He made her look at him. For an instant, she felt a slight catch in her chest at the intensity of his gaze.
"Lucy. What happened?"
Her resolve wavered. Then, she gave Steve the most reassuring look that she could muster, and lowered her voice. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll explain later."
But he obviously wasn't going to let it go so easily. "Lucy," he started to protest, but she stopped him.
"Not here." She shot a pointed glance toward the others in the apartment, and Steve accepted her reasoning, though the pained look that he gave her made her wish that she could pull him out of the room and explain everything. But they had Fury to be concerned with.
Steve helped her to her feet, and although she was feeling like her normal self, she was grateful for his strength. She allowed herself a brief, stabilizing grip on his bicep before they both let go of each other and turned their attention to the EMTs tending to the grievously wounded man on the floor.
Agent 13 moved out of the way and joined Lucy and Steve to watch the emergency responders work. Lucy had known that the situation was grim, but with every vital statistic called out, it seemed even more so. She prayed that Fury could hold on until he reached the hospital.
He's Nick Fury; he can't die like this.
Within minutes, the EMTs had hoisted him onto a stretcher and hustled him out the door as quickly and carefully as they could. Lucy and Steve followed, with Agent 13 close behind.
The night air sent a chill through Lucy as she watched the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance. She folded her arms tightly across her chest. Concern for Fury's safety gave her the sudden urge to accompany him in the ambulance, but before she could say anything, the blonde agent hurried forward and addressed the EMTs.
"I'll go with him. I'm a nurse."
The pang of worry in Lucy's chest wasn't completely alleviated, but she supposed that the agent was better than nothing. At least she seemed to be genuinely concerned about the director.
The EMTs let the woman into the ambulance, and as soon as the doors were closed, it drove off, its emergency lights flashing bright red and white in the darkness.
Lucy suddenly felt a gentle hand on her back, and she turned to face Steve.
"Come on." As he started to guide her toward his motorcycle parked around the corner of the building, she glanced at the curb and remembered that her car was at the Triskelion. Her stomach sank, but she was also relieved. She hadn't ridden with Steve in a while, but at this point she would feel safer on the back of his motorcycle than alone in her car.
She climbed on behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist—a sensation now almost foreign, which both comforted her and sent an odd spark of nerves through her stomach—and they took off after the ambulance.
The traffic and buildings surrounding them flew by, and the memories—both physical and emotional—of being shot at, pursued through the streets, and finally stopped with the assassin's explosive, raced through Lucy's mind. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to block them out. But having her eyes closed made her more vulnerable. She reopened them and glanced around, then over Steve's other shoulder, almost expecting someone to be following them. Another police car, or . . .
"He got away."
The assassin could be anywhere. If S.H.I.E.L.D. thought that Fury might live, they could send their man to the hospital to finish the job. And if Lucy's hunch was correct, and the masked man was the one who had shot Fury, then she was the only one who knew just what they were dealing with. Unless . . . Had Steve seen him? He'd said that he had gotten away, but how close had he come to catching him?
She needed to talk to Steve as soon as possible.
It wasn't until they arrived at the hospital that Lucy realized how tense she was—and how firm her grip on Steve had been. She released him immediately and got off of the bike. He must have sensed that something was amiss, because the moment that he was standing beside her, his hand was at her elbow. She felt his concern as they raced to the hospital entrance.
The stark halls with their cold lighting made Lucy feel even more unnerved than she already was. She vaguely realized that this was her first time in a hospital since the Battle of New York. Although, the S.H.I.E.L.D. infirmary and the facility in which she had undergone her transformation had seemed close enough to one.
She and Steve quickly located the ER, and were just about to find someone to ask about Fury when a woman called to them. Maria Hill. "In here . . ."
Lucy wasn't sure if she had ever seen Hill rattled, but the look on her face as she beckoned the two of them toward a closed door conveyed her worry, though she was clearly trying to control her emotions.
Lucy and Steve followed Hill into the dark observation room. On the other side of the panoramic window before them, a team of doctors and nurses were beginning their work on the unconscious Nick Fury. Lucy stared, slowly approaching the window. She found it hard to reconcile the formidable, hard-edged director with the man on the operating table.
Steve came to stand at her left, and Hill stood beside him. Lucy briefly wondered where Agent 13 could be, but that was unimportant in the face of what was going on in front of her. It was a difficult scene to watch, but she couldn't take her eyes away. She willed Fury to be alright—prayed that the blind shots that the assassin had taken through the wall had missed his target's most vital points.
Suddenly, Steve's voice broke her rapt attention on the surgeons as they began their work. "Natasha. Get to the hospital. It's Nick. He's been shot."
Lucy glanced up at his grave expression as he hung up his phone, then laid a sympathetic hand on his arm with a light squeeze. He met her eyes solemnly, then turned back to the window.
They watched the surgeons' progress in silence, Lucy's attention occasionally drifting to the monitors displaying the readings of Fury's vitals. A haze of fatigue began to wash over her mind. In spite of spending a large portion of the day on Steve's couch, she hadn't allowed herself to sleep. In truth, she probably wouldn't have been able to, even if she'd tried. The threat of S.H.I.E.L.D. or the assassin finding them had been too great. But now, in the quiet, dark room, with Steve by her side, the physical and mental stress of the day was catching up with her. But she still couldn't let it win. It wasn't time to rest. They were in a public hospital; the assassin could be anywhere. She blinked hard, inhaling slowly, trying to focus.
The minutes ticked on. What time was it?
She leaned heavily on the window frame, resting her head on the glass.
Her eyes closed.
No. Don't let your guard down!
She tried to force them open again, but she couldn't—until she felt a strong hand grip her arm.
She looked up to find Steve watching her with concern.
"You okay?"
She straightened up. "I'm fine."
"You should sit down," he said gently.
"I really shouldn't."
"You're exhausted." His tone was a little more insistent this time.
"I can't," she stressed, looking him dead in the eye. Then, she looked over his shoulder. Hill was gone. Lucy hadn't noticed her leave.
Choosing not to waste time silently berating herself for her lack of observation, Lucy decided to take advantage of the opportunity and tell Steve as much as she could.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the door opened. She whipped around just in time to see a dark silhouette rush to the window, coming to stand at Steve's other side. Natasha. Lucy had completely forgotten that he had called her. This time, she allowed herself a silent reprimand.
With Natasha's arrival, there was a certain amount of renewed tension in the room, and Fury was once again the subject of everyone's focus.
"Is he gonna make it?" Natasha asked quietly.
"I don't know," Steve replied, his tone grave.
"Tell me about the shooter."
"He's fast . . . strong." He paused, as if contemplating his next words. "Had a metal arm."
Lucy looked up at him, her fatigue dissipating significantly. For an instant, she was back in Stockholm, pressed up against the hotel's revolving door, the masked assassin's fingers digging into her as she squeezed his left arm, trying to force him to release her—only to find his flesh hard as stone.
Or metal.
The blood rushed in her ears. She had been certain that the man in Stockholm was the same one who had attacked Fury's SUV, but now she was sure that he was also the shooter. And Steve had seen him.
Her mind was reeling with the urgency to talk to Steve in private when Hill suddenly returned. She stood on Natasha's left.
"Ballistics," Natasha prompted, not removing her gaze from Fury.
Hill obliged, keeping her tone even, businesslike—though the emotion beneath it was clear. "Three slugs. No rifling, completely untraceable."
"Soviet-made."
Natasha's reply was surprising. Why would she assume that? Lucy looked past Steve and saw Hill turn to the redhead, seeming just as taken aback. "Yeah."
Suddenly, a sound that Lucy had been dreading emanated from from behind the glass—from the monitors. A single, prolonged tone signifying only one thing.
No . . .
"BP's dropping."
"Defibrillator!"
The doctors sprang into action, peeling down the surgical sheet covering the director and wheeling over the crash cart. Lucy's stomach tightened at the sight of the bloody gauze pads on Fury's torso. She couldn't believe this was happening. This couldn't be it.
"Don't do this to me, Nick . . ." Natasha murmured.
"Stand back," the head doctor instructed, taking both paddles in hand. Lucy held her breath. "Three, two, one—clear!"
Lucy flinched inwardly as Fury jolted with the shock of electricity sent straight to his heart.
"Pulse?" asked the doctor.
"No pulse."
"Okay. Two hundred, please. Stand back! Three, two, one—clear!" Another jolt. "Get me an epinephrine! Pulse?"
"Negative."
No . . . Please, no . . .
Natasha's soft plea continued, barely a whisper now.
The doctor administered the epinephrine. Everyone waited.
Nothing happened.
Lucy's body felt cold.
She felt Steve leave her side as the doctor asked solemnly, "What's the time?"
"1:03, doctor," replied a female voice, but everything seemed so quiet compared to the constant, dull tone of the flatline.
The sound of Nick Fury's death.
"Time of death: 1:03 AM," the head doctor announced gravely.
This can't be happening.
Lucy felt numb. Nick Fury couldn't be dead. Whatever he had uncovered, he should be here to fight it. S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't have won. Fury couldn't have been beaten like this . . . he wouldn't have . . .
A sudden memory sparked in her mind.
The flash drive. All was not lost! Steve had it—
Steve!
Lucy turned toward the door and saw her friend standing motionless before it, silhouetted against the window to the hallway.
She was about to join him, but stopped upon seeing who else occupied the dark observation room: Jasper Sitwell and Rumlow. She hadn't noticed them come in.
Why was Sitwell here?
Instantly her guard was raised. Rumlow had worked under Fury's orders for a long time, but as the director had warned, she shouldn't trust anyone. Rumlow may have worked for Fury, but he also worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. The only people that Lucy felt that she could trust were Steve, Natasha, supposedly Agent 13, and, because Fury had contacted her when everything had begun to go south, Maria Hill. Everyone else was off the table until they proved themselves trustworthy.
She avoided looking at Rumlow and Sitwell as she approached Steve. He was looking down at something but quickly closed his hand around it when she came up beside him.
She could guess what it was.
She gripped his arm and gave him an urgent look, and he opened the door, leading the way out of the room.
They strode quickly down the corridor, Lucy suddenly feeling more vulnerable now that Fury was gone. But any minute now, Steve would be aware of everything.
He directed her into the first empty room that they could find and closed the door. Then, he turned to face her, gripping her arms gently but firmly, and standing so close that Lucy's heart reacted in a way that made it strangely hard to look at him. But only for a moment. She met his clear blue eyes with determination, the urgency of the situation overpowering any other feelings that had suddenly surfaced. He gazed down at her with the intensity of Captain America on a mission. She supposed that that's exactly what he was.
"Tell me everything."
This was it. It was finally time.
But there was so much to say, and they weren't exactly in the most leisurely environment.
For a moment, her mind spun, trying to find a place to land, a point at which to begin.
She chose to start with the information most relevant to their current crisis.
"Fury asked me to meet him," she began, keeping her voice low and quiet, despite the two of them being alone in the room. "He said that there's something going on with S.H.I.E.L.D., and he thought that Pierce was behind it, maybe the whole council." She watched Steve's expression as he took in every word. His hands fell to his sides, but he remained completely focused on her, the gravity in his eyes deepening. She rushed on. "We were attacked; they came out of nowhere—cops, S.W.A.T.—but they weren't; It was S.H.I.E.L.D. We barely got away. There was—" The masked assassin flashed into her mind, and her brain froze temporarily. She continued from a different angle. "The man who shot Fury headed us off on the road. And . . ." She paused for another moment, hardly able to believe that she could finally tell him. ". . . I've seen him before."
"What?" There was an urgency in Steve's tone. "Where? When?"
Now he would know that she had kept the encounter a secret from him. She had been wanting to tell him for so long, but now that she was moments from the admission, she was struck with worry that he might be upset that she hadn't told him sooner. Especially now that the assassin had become a personal enemy.
"Over a year ago . . ." She saw the confusion in his eyes, and before he could speak, she elaborated. "New Year's Eve, 2012. Do you remember that assignment they sent me on? It was in Stockholm. We were supposed to prevent an assassination. He was there."
Something in his eyes changed, and his hands gripped her arms again. "Did he hurt you?"
She could tell him the truth: that she had almost been killed; that her shoulder had hurt for days after the mission. But the last thing that she needed at the moment was for him to be upset about something that had happened so long ago. His worrying about her face-off with the masked man would do nothing to help their current situation, no matter how much she had wished that he could somehow ease the pain that she had experienced that horrible night—or any of the emotional turmoil that had followed her since.
"That's not important," she said dismissively, though she couldn't look him in the eye. When she felt his tension increase, she looked at him directly and told him as adamantly and sincerely as she could, "I was fine, Steve. The important thing is that he just killed Fury—" she almost choked on the word, and her stomach twisted with grief "—and S.H.I.E.L.D. had him do it."
His eyes strayed from hers as he processed the information, though he didn't seem too surprised. Lucy wondered how much Fury had managed to convey to him using the text on his phone back in Steve's apartment—then, Steve spoke again, his voice still low and urgent. "What else did Fury say? What about S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
She shook her head. "He didn't give me any specifics. I don't know exactly what he suspected is going on, but I do know that they wanted to get rid of him, so it has to be something big."
Steve reached into his pocket and withdrew the flash drive. He held it covertly between them, and Lucy saw a muscle clench in his jaw.
"I think I've seen this before . . ." he muttered softly.
Lucy's eyes widened. "Where?"
He was silent for a moment.
Then, "Natasha was using it to pull S.H.I.E.L.D. intel from the Lemurian Star."
The picture was starting to form. "Whatever's on here has to be the reason they went after him. Do you think Natasha knows?"
"Can't be sure," Steve replied. "They were close. Hill might."
"I don't know. He called her, before we were attacked," Lucy explained. "He wanted her to meet him right away, in deep shadow conditions, and I got the feeling that she didn't have any idea why. But he said not to trust anyone. Should we take a chance on her?"
"Apparently we can trust Kate—or whatever her name is . . ." He muttered the last bit under his breath, and Lucy felt the familiar, hated prick of jealousy over the fact that he seemed to care so much for the woman that he would feel betrayed by her false identity, even if it was supposedly for his protection.
"Can we?"
The words came out with an unintended, slightly bitter edge.
Steve seemed to ponder this for a moment. "She helped us."
Lucy's next words flowed out automatically. "She was also alone with him while you were chasing the assassin and I was—" passed out on the floor, she finished in her head.
She could practically feel the tension shift. While it had moments ago been focused on the blonde agent, Lucy knew that it was now directed at herself and why she had been unconscious.
So she was a bit surprised when Steve said, a little incredulously, "You think she did something to him?"
She thought back on Agent 13's reaction to seeing that Fury had been shot and her desperation to get him medical attention, and an instinct told her that the woman's behavior had been genuine. Lucy didn't know her, but she believed that she hadn't wished to do the director further harm. She told herself that her suspicion was just her trying to be cautious, but at the same time, she felt felt a stab of guilt for sowing doubt in Steve's mind when Agent 13 was likely one of their only allies.
She averted her eyes from his. "I don't know. Probably not . . ." The words came out a bit wearily, and for a moment, she wished that she could just lie down and pretend that everything wasn't going to hell.
Then, Steve gently gripped her arm. "You okay?"
She returned his concerned gaze once again, suddenly hyper-aware of the heat of his palm. If there was ever a perfect opportunity to tell him about Project Artemis, this was it. But there would be no going back. He might not look at her the same way again. But she couldn't not tell him.
She steeled herself, and the words were moments from her lips—then, Steve's eyes drifted slightly higher, and she froze as he carefully moved her hair back from her face. She suppressed a shiver as his fingers grazed her hairline.
"You should get looked at."
She had been so wrapped up in everything else that she had forgotten about the cuts and bruises inflicted upon her in the crash. Now that her attention was drawn to them, she realized that they hardly hurt at all. Steve dropped his hand, and her own fingers moved to her hair. There was dried blood on her scalp. She shook her head slightly. "No, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt," she added, knowing that he would insist. Another pang of guilt struck her. She had gotten off so easy, and Fury was . . .
The door opened suddenly, and Lucy turned to look while Steve thrust the flash drive back into his pocket. Maria Hill stood there, solemn yet still holding herself in her steadfast, professional manner. Lucy's heart sank. She hoped that her conversation with Steve wasn't over, but she had a terrible feeling that it was. Her suspicion was confirmed when the woman spoke.
"There you are. You can see him now . . ."
Lucy's stomach twisted. She didn't want to see Fury. But she knew that she had to. She didn't want to leave that room, where it was only herself and Steve, and the threats felt like they could be kept at bay. But she had to. So, with a grave, regretful glance up at her friend, who returned the look with full understanding, they both followed the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. from the room and through the hallways, until they arrived at another door. Hill opened it, and Lucy braced herself before stepping inside.
Her eyes fell on Natasha, who stood motionless before Fury's body. The sheet covering him was folded back, and Natasha seemed unable to take her eyes from his face. She didn't react when Lucy and Steve entered. Sensing that she needed space, they both stayed near the door. Hill didn't follow them, instead moving out of sight down the hallway. Lucy reluctantly turned her attention to the man lying before them. She half expected him to open his eyes and reveal that this was somehow all part of a plan to outsmart S.H.I.E.L.D. But he was gone. In this small way—a small way that seemed so very big—S.H.I.E.L.D. had won. He was just one man, but he was so very important. And he had deemed Lucy and Steve worthy of being his allies—and entrusted them with information. Lucy breathed in slowly through the tightness in her chest. Would Fury want them to just stand around staring at him uselessly? The best thing that they could do for him was to get a look at what was on that flash drive.
She was about to quietly suggest to Steve that they do so when movement on his left caught her eye. Hill had just stepped into the room. Steve's gaze was cast to the floor, and he didn't look at her until she spoke, as if he were pulled abruptly from deep within his thoughts.
"They need to take him." Her words were thick with emotion, and she blinked against the threat of tears.
Without a word, Steve strode forward, coming to stand just behind Natasha. He spoke her name quietly, and Lucy could sense her reluctance to leave even before she reached out a hand and laid her palm against Fury's forehead—a final farewell to a beloved mentor. A beloved friend. Lucy's throat constricted, a fresh wave of guilt washing over her for her desire to take action rather than to take time to mourn the loss of the man before her. But there would be time for that later. Fury would understand.
Suddenly, Natasha turned and strode briskly from the room, and Steve followed. Lucy wasn't sure if she should do the same, but before she could make the decision, her feet had carried her through the door after them.
Steve called out to Natasha, and she spun around abruptly in the hallway to face him. Lucy had to pull up short to avoiding colliding with him.
"Why was Fury in your apartment?" Natasha asked. Lucy looked at Steve, wondering if he would decide to bring her into their confidence right then and there.
But he just shrugged, as if at a genuine loss, and replied with convincing sincerity, "I don't know."
"Cap."
Lucy and Steve turned at the sound of Rumlow's voice.
"They want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Yeah, give me a second," Steve replied before turning back to Natasha.
"They want you now," Rumlow pressed.
Steve looked back to the commander and stared at him for a couple of seconds before acquiescing, though he spoke as if he were trying to ease the mind of someone slightly unstable or diffuse a volatile situation. "Okay."
Then, Rumlow looked at Lucy.
"Come with me."
Her stomach dropped. The last thing that she wanted to do was part ways with Steve when they still had so much to discuss—and they still hadn't looked at the flash drive. He was her only ally; they couldn't be separated. But it would be out of character for her to disobey an order from Rumlow, and the last thing that she needed was for S.H.I.E.L.D. to grow suspicious of where she stood. Fury had told her to play along if it came to that. And it looked like it just might. So until she discovered which side Rumlow was on, she had to assume that he was S.H.I.E.L.D. through and through, and whatever he wanted from her—whatever he asked of her—she needed to cooperate. And give the right answers.
With a single glance back at Steve—who was watching Natasha walk away—Lucy resigned herself to whatever awaited her, and followed Rumlow in the opposite direction. She felt two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents flanking her as she matched the commander's brisk pace, and concentrated on hiding her anxiety.
Rumlow rounded a corner, into another, less-populated hallway, then halted and turned to face her. She was powerfully aware of the two agents who had been behind her, and was relieved that they kept walking.
She looked up at the commander with what she hoped was calm professionalism, waiting for him to speak.
"I heard you were with him. What happened?" His tone was hard-edged, as if he were asking for intel in the middle of an assignment.
Who had told him that?
Her thoughts turned directly to Agent 13. She's the only one who had seen Lucy with Fury after the attack, other than Steve, and he hadn't had time to say anything to anyone. Not that he would have after Fury's warning. But if Agent 13 was on Fury's side, why would she reveal that they had been together? She had to know that it would make S.H.I.E.L.D. suspicious of Lucy's position.
Unless it wasn't her.
The chip had reactivated when Lucy had lost consciousness in Steve's apartment. But . . . maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. had known where she was before that. Maybe the chip had been active between electrocutions after all, just long enough for them to track her. Just as she had feared.
Of course, they could have seen her get into Fury's car. She had pushed that possibility into the very back of her mind, but she couldn't afford to anymore. If S.H.I.E.L.D. saw her as expendable, then if she was going to survive long enough to find out what was going on—and stop it if she had to—she needed to convince them that she was too valuable to throw away.
Her pulse picked up as her mind raced. She could feel the smallest flash of fear pass over her face at the prospect of what she was about to do, but instead of suppressing it, she embraced it and used it.
"He made me get into his car," she said, allowing the sick feeling in her stomach to fuel her words. "I don't know what he wanted, but he hit me with a taser disk, and before I knew it, we were being chased through the city. He almost got me killed." She spat the final words with controlled anger, and it made her want to throw up. She hated dragging Fury through the mud, and it was even worse with him dead. But it was what an agent who knew nothing about a S.H.I.E.L.D. conspiracy and had been thrown blindly into a life-threatening situation would say. And it was what an agent who knew exactly why Fury had been killed would want to hear. She hoped that Rumlow wasn't the latter.
"Do you know who attacked you?"
He might have simply meant what he said, but Lucy interpreted it as, "Do you know that S.H.I.E.L.D. was behind the attack?" And she was prepared for it.
"How should I? He was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sure a lot of people wanted him dead." Her stomach knotted, and a lump almost caught in her throat as she finished the sentence, but she covered it up by channeling her anger at Fury's killers. "It could have been anyone."
Rumlow then glanced left and right before lowering his voice. "It's possible that he was involved in something."
The air suddenly seemed to thicken.
"What do you mean?" Lucy asked conspiratorially.
"There's evidence that he hired the pirates to take the Lemurian Star."
Lucy didn't have to pretend to be taken aback.
". . . What?"
"From what we know so far, he was selling classified intelligence. The hijacking was a cover, to get onto the ship and take what he needed."
Lucy stared at him, not sure of exactly what to say. So she said what any loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would say. "Why would he betray S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Rumlow glanced off to the side, as if at a loss. "We might never know now."
Lucy couldn't quite tell whether or not he was actually upset about that fact. She tried to look moderately devastated at the thought of her boss's betrayal. "I never suspected . . ."
The thought of Fury secretly being behind the hijacking was a little disturbing, but if it really had been a cover for stealing S.H.I.E.L.D. intel, then maybe it was worthwhile. Lucy wondered how much the pirates had known about their role in the plan, and whether they would have killed the hostages. Would Fury have let it come to that? She hated to entertain the possibility, but she suspected that if the intel was indispensable in his efforts to investigate S.H.I.E.L.D., he might have.
But she couldn't think about what might have happened. It was irrelevant.
And she couldn't lose sight of what was most important: She had to fool S.H.I.E.L.D. into thinking that she was in their pocket.
Then, Rumlow spoke again. "He didn't say anything to you? In all the time you were with him?"
She strove to keep her composure. She had already played dumb. Rumlow either believed her and was just being thorough, or he didn't believe her and was testing her. Pushing her.
An excuse. She needed an excuse . . .
"No. He was injured. He was practically unconscious the whole time."
Rumlow seemed to consider this, and Lucy waited, heart pounding.
"Why didn't you call it in? Request support?"
A spike of adrenaline flooded her system, and her next words poured out effortlessly. "We had no means of communication, so we decided to lie low until—Captain Rogers came back." She faltered just slightly, hating to bring Steve into the conversation.
Rumlow nodded slowly. Lucy had the uncomfortable feeling that whatever was going through his mind wasn't anything good.
She was right.
"And why did you go to Rogers' apartment?"
Her mind worked overtime to come up with a reason that wouldn't implicate Steve as an ally to the director. She shook her head slightly, as if in confusion. "I just followed Fury."
When Rumlow still looked skeptical, she added, "And Rogers seemed just as confused as I was." Then, in a grim tone, "We didn't have a chance to get an explanation . . ."
Please, buy it . . . no more questions, she begged silently under the commander's steely scrutiny.
Then, she felt a presence behind her, and Rumlow's attention was redirected.
"Am I interrupting?"
Steve's voice instantly calmed her nerves, if only a fraction.
"About time," Rumlow replied with a touch of irritation, as if he and Lucy hadn't just been absorbed in a conversation. "Let's go." He turned and strode back down the main corridor.
Lucy glared at his back before giving Steve a helpless look. He reassured her to the best of his ability with his returned glance, then the two of them followed the commander, silently resigned to whatever lay in wait for them and whatever roles they would have to play, the flash drive surely in Steve's mind as prominently as it was in Lucy's. But somehow, despite her pounding heart, the knot in her stomach, and the sickening mixture of anger and grief, she felt her stride growing more confident by the second. As of that moment, she and Steve were completely alone—and they were marching straight toward the heart of the enemy.
And she was ready, her fear gradually overtaken by determination. After all, she was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and they had trained her well.
In the course of a single day, she had discovered the truth about Project Artemis, nearly been killed, witnessed the murder of Nicholas J. Fury—and become a double agent. She could only imagine what the next twenty-four hours would hold.
Note: This one was a longer time coming than usual. x_x My mind was preoccupied with a lot of extra inspiration for my original works for a while, then some other things came up and made it harder for me to finish this chapter. But I think I have pretty much all of Chapter 26 worked out already, so it should go rather smoothly (hopefully)~
I was going to make this chapter longer, but it would have ended up being more like 8,000–9,000 words instead of its current 6,052, and it felt more appropriate to end it where I did. Sorry if it feels short! But I'll do my best to get the next chapters out quickly! We're approaching July 4th (Steve's birthday) after all, and this time of year always gives me a bit more inspiration/motivation. ^^
Thank you all for going on this adventure with me~
(As always, you can check my writing progress on my profile.)