As Time Goes By

by BouncingKappa

Sequel to Songbirds and Bombshells! Sadie Reid disappeared in 1949, never to be seen again until she resurfaces in 2016 with no memory of how she got there and one clue: the dog tags of her supposedly dead fiance, Bucky Barnes. Bucky is in Wakanda hoping for a chance at the freshest start he can get. Love found them once in the unlikeliest place, can it bring them together again?

13. One of Those Days

A/N: I'm just as shocked as you are that it's a regular update. But it is and it's another monster chapter - there's just a lot to cover and we all know brevity isn't my strength! I do have one announcement. My wonderful friend Stencil Your Heart has relinquished her role as my beta but fear not, we are still platonic soulmates! The kind and talented Lyssxo will now be the beta for the fic and I'm so excited to have her help and guidance - this chapter is much improved because of her input.

In the meantime, over 500 reviews! You all are just the greatest. Thank you endlessly for all of the follows, favorites, and reviews. Your patience and feedback keeps me motivated! Chapter is titled for the Gabrielle Aplin song.

Chapter 13 - One of Those Days

Sadie's hands shook as she grasped the cold water tap. Water gushed from the faucet, spilling into the square sink. Her heart was an uncomfortable lump in her throat, beating in a rapid tempo out of step with the blood she could hear whooshing in her ears. A glance in the mirror confirmed her worst fears. Flush and wide-eyed, she looked like a schoolgirl terrified before giving a class presentation. Sadie was not a nervous woman. She managed an entire field hospital during the war due in no small part to her unbreakable willpower. Battlefields and hospitals were no place for nerves. Sadie carried that philosophy with her home to work in the emergency ward in Little Rock, to the five-star restaurants where she wooed Howard's friends into investing in IHAP, and then back to post-war Europe. Sadie didn't flinch in the face of bombs or grim-faced businessmen but the very thought of getting up in front of hundreds of cameras wielded by the UN Press Corps threatened to bring her breakfast up in spectacular fashion.

"Come on," she whispered to herself. "Now is not the time to fall apart."

She shoved the crumpled paper towels clenched in her hand beneath the water and wrang them out. The cold, damp towel felt fantastic on the back of her neck, radiating a little sliver of relief down her back, across her collar, and up to her burning cheeks. Despite the makeshift cold compress her dress felt too hot and constricting around her body. The sleeveless navy blue number skimmed her frame with a pretty cutout detail at her neck. Nakia dubbed the design as modern but not too dowdy, though Sadie still couldn't quite shake the naked feeling of walking around in public without stockings.

"Those will make you look like you're a thousand years old," Nakia insisted when they met with the Wakandan designer responsible for outfitting Sadie for her first foray into the wider world. "Biologically speaking, you're still in your twenties, right?"

That question had thrown Sadie for a loop. "I honestly don't know," she remarked, amazed that she hadn't even considered it. "I was twenty-nine when I disappeared. But who knows how long it was before I was frozen."

Nakia rubbed her chin but then dismissed the entire conundrum as unimportant, which, to be fair, it was. "I say aim young. My point is that you are only twenty-nine and you're not the Queen for crying out loud. No stockings or pantyhose or whatever you want to call it."

Sadie could handle going bare-legged. She could handle modern form-fitting silhouettes and hadn't lost her balance once in her ridiculously high heels. Everything that Nakia threw at her in preparation for this trip she'd taken with no small amount of grace. Flashcards helped her memorize the names and faces of the delegates she was likely to meet. Rehearsals helped her cement the phrases she might need to answer press questions. She could handle awkward small talk with diplomats who were in diapers when she disappeared-if they were even born yet. All morning long she'd managed to ignore the open-mouthed stares that followed her wherever she went, in the Wakandan Embassy, the secure entrance for diplomats, and in the UN building itself. There was nothing she couldn't handle. Except for this.

"It's just a few cameras," she told her beet-faced reflection. "You were buried alive for almost three days. You can face the press."

But it wasn't just a few cameras. It was an entire press corps preparing to splash her face across every newspaper and news website in the world. Nakia warned her that she was about to go 'viral,' a term that meant nothing to Sadie outside of the context of infectious diseases.

She wished she wasn't wearing a fresh face of makeup so she could splash cold water on her face; that almost always helped. Gripping the side of the sink with one hand and holding the wet towel against the back of her neck, Sadie bowed her head and sorely hoped that Steve and Bucky appreciated what she was doing for them. Keeping the press focused on her meant fewer people cared about them. Causing an international ruckus allowed Steve just enough latitude that he and his companions were monitoring the UN as she tried to talk herself off her ledge. Somehow, knowing that Steve was somewhere close by made Sadie feel a tiny bit better. If something were to go truly, horribly, explosively wrong he would be there to save the day.

"It's okay," she promised herself. "Just count to five."

Sadie took a deep breath and counted, repeating herself twice more until she felt calmer.

A loud bang nearly sent her out of her skin. Clutching her chest, she lost her balance and fell hip-first against the sink.

"If I didn't know any better, Toto, I'd say you were having a panic attack."

"Mr. St-" she corrected when Tony wagged a disapproving finger. "Tony, what are you doing here? This is a women's bathroom," she snapped at Tony's reflection.

"Oh? Is it?" Tony glanced at the sign on the closing door. "So it is."

They both knew that perfectly well. Gathering her bearings, Sadie turned around and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What do you want?"

"Just saying hi," he tipped his head to the side in an infuriating manner, like a child who successfully snuck the last cookie from the jar. "Long time, no see."

"I saw you less than two months ago," she pointed out. "But sure, hello, Tony. I trust you're doing well?"

"Peachy," he unbuttoned his suit jacket and shoved his hands in his pockets. Sadie marveled at him, slack-jawed while he surveyed the bathroom. "Did you know it's nicer in here than the men's room?"

"No, Tony, I don't know that because I don't have a habit of going into the wrong restroom."

He grinned in the face of her ire. Gesturing towards her he made some indistinct circle. "You look better, well-fed, and all that. New dress?"

Sadie brushed a hand over her stomach. Half of her couldn't believe they were still standing in the restroom talking about her physical recovery but the other half of her wasn't surprised in the least. Of course Tony Stark would think cornering her in the bathroom was appropriate. Try as he might to deny it, he was every inch his father's son and this kind of behavior stank of Howard.

"Tony," she raised her eyebrows, hoping he would get the message.

He shrugged. "I saw you disappear in here and thought maybe you were having second thoughts about jumping headlong into the snake pit."

That was an apt description for the press if she ever heard one. "I can't hide forever."

"I know," he agreed and ambled over to stand next to her, leaning against the dry sink next to hers. "That doesn't make it any easier."

"How do you do it? Get up there and act like it's nothing?"

One corner of his mouth twitched towards a humorless smile. "I imagine everyone in their underwear."

"Tony," she dug an elbow into his side and he smiled in earnest now, acknowledging his own bullshit.

"I get through it and treat it like it's a big joke because it is. The press is going to write what it wants regardless of what you say or do. Ninety-nine percent of them have already made up their minds before you've even walked through the door. So, there's no point in being anything other than yourself because it just doesn't matter."

Sadie blinked at him several times. "That's…" she trailed off as she digested his advice. "That's a shrewd observation and oddly helpful."

"Well, I've been known to have a good idea now and again."

Sadie rolled her eyes and pushed away from her perch on the sink. "Modesty doesn't suit you," she teased and he waggled an eyebrow.

"Just trying it on for size."

"Well, don't, and please leave now so I don't have to immediately follow you. That's the last thing I need-everyone talking about us leaving the women's bathroom together."

Tony treated her to a rare laugh and gave her a mock salute. He'd just reached the door when it opened, revealing Nakia. Tipping his head once towards her he grinned. "Ma'am." He looked over his shoulder to Sadie. "Toto? Lunch tomorrow. I won't take no for an answer."

Nakia watched him waltz out of the bathroom like he'd done absolutely nothing untoward at all. Mouth agape, she stared for a long second before jerking her thumb after him. "What the hell was that?"

"You don't want to know. Are we ready?"

"Just about. I was coming to make sure you hadn't tried to tunnel your way out."

Sadie barked out a laugh. Feeling lighter in the wake of Tony's unusual pep talk, she smoothed out her dress and straightened her shoulders. "And get dust all over a brand new dress? I don't think so."

X X X

Steve pushed his sunglasses higher up the bridge of his nose. Little beads of sweat gathered at his temples and banded across his forehead beneath his navy blue baseball cap. Every measure he'd taken to conceal his identity had the unfortunate side-effect of increasing his discomfort. Undercover work was a lot easier when it wasn't eighty-five degrees outside. His body ran hot normally and adding the light, high-collared jacket to his ensemble left him thinking with longing for his suit-at least that was sweat-wicking. There was little, if anything, about his job that involved personal comfort and so he fought through the heat. The streets running all around and through the UN complex wouldn't survey themselves.

He'd been to Vienna a handful of times in recent years, mostly for ceremonial gatherings that required the cheery face of an Avenger. The blocks that radiated away from the UN were mostly devoted to the business of the UN, buildings crammed with embassies, lobbying firms, law firms, and just about any non-profit that could afford the office space. Vienna, in many ways, felt like a grander Washington D.C., crammed with politicians and diplomats, though these days Steve could hardly tell the difference between the two. The streets he patrolled reflected the business of running the world: serious-faced men and women stalking to meetings and business lunches, all in sharp business attire, all carrying on as if their cause was of international importance and all of it took place in the shadow of grand architecture that was there long before any of them and would likely remain long after.

Steve paused at a street corner and made a casual three-sixty, keeping a wary eye out for anything unusual. Of course, these days it wasn't just the unusual he had to worry about. The world he lived in now wasn't divided into Allies and Axis. It wasn't painted in shades of olive drab and field grey. And wars weren't fought or won by rifles and mortars. Now Steve had to be aware of so much more because the next threat could be Chitauri pouring from a rift torn into the sky or something as unnoticeable as a single person dropping a glass vial of powder in a subway station or leaving a backpack in a crowded lobby and of the two options, it was the former that scared him more. That was how Helmut Zemo blew up the UN less than three months earlier, just a single, unremarkable man seemingly going about his unremarkable business.

"I'm all clear," he muttered into the collar of his jacket, shielding his lips from any street cameras that might pick him up.

"Me too," Natasha muttered in his ear from somewhere on the other side of the complex.

"So am I." Wanda paused. "Did you really expect anything to happen?"

The short answer was no, Steve didn't expect bad to happen at this particular summit. As far as UN gatherings went, this one was pretty innocuous, and, considering how many countries happily signed the Accords, hardly controversial. In fact, the only real event of consequence was set to start in-Steve checked his watch and frowned-it started five minutes ago. Over his shoulder he spared a glance for the shining glass building he could see at the end of the street a block away. He didn't envy Sadie's position at all and hoped that her first press conference was going as smoothly as his fruitless search for trouble.

"Red Wing's scan came back clear."

Steve could practically hear Natasha rolling her eyes through their comm link. Her dislike for Sam's drone was the stuff of legend, and although Red Wing proved to be invaluable on multiple occasions, Steve privately agreed with her. He preferred a world with a lot less surveillance but that was a different gripe for a different time.

"I figured it would. But still-"

"If you say better safe than sorry I'm going to throw my earpiece in the trash," Natasha threatened.

Steve sighed. There was really no point in arguing with her but he just couldn't help himself. "That's not a bad thing!"

"No, she's right," Sam countered. "I get we're doing the king a favor and all but there's so much security here I doubt the President could get in without showing two forms of ID and a blood test."

Sam had a point. More than once, Steve had to quickly duck out of side or use the street traffic as a shield from the sleek black sedans driven by state and private security or the suited figures prowling the edges of the UN complex, each one looking to avoid the exact same thing: a repeat of Zemo and the death of another foreing dignitary. Chances were that everything would go off without a hitch and when Steve saw T'Challa later that afternoon he could confidently give the king the all-clear before taking what remained of his team on to their next mission.

Steve paused at the crosswalk and waited for the light to turn before he fell into step with the rest of the foot traffic. At eleven in the morning the early lunch crowd was emerging from their offices, giving him ample cover.

"Just remember, T'Challa's letting us stay at the embassy tonight. I don't know about you but I'll take this if it means a hot shower, thanks."

"And a real bed," Wanda piped up in agreement with Natasha.

He couldn't say he blamed his friends for enjoying their brief respite from their less-than-ideal living and sleeping arrangements. Steve crossed the street while he listened to his friends banter in his ear and he started to make for their rendezvous point where they could regroup and decide on a new course of action when something caught the corner of his eye.

It was over eighty degrees outside and he was roasting in a thin t-shirt and light jacket which begged the question: why would anyone be wearing a sweatshirt with the hood drawn up in this heat? Frowning, he side-stepped a couple of young businesswomen, nearly sending one toppling sideways into the other.

"Sorry," he muttered half-heartedly, ignoring their indignance. The hooded figure bobbed amongst the rest of the crowd, a heather gray beacon that practically begged Steve to follow.

His voice of reason suggested he was being paranoid and it was likely nothing. But the paranoid part of him, the man who had seen too much to believe in coincidences, shouted that any possible threat, no matter how remote, was worth following. The overdramatic side of his mind suggested he might be walking into a trap but Steve brushed that aside. There were few traps in this world that could defeat him and at the very least he didn't think this anonymous figure in a grey hoodie could.

Shutting out the banal chatter in his earpiece, he continued weaving his way along the street, never taking his eyes off his quarry for more than a split-second. The figure took the next left, making a sharp move that took Steve by surprise. Casual, innocent people didn't just duck around street corners like that. Steve sped up, doing everything he could to avoid running and drawing attention to himself.

"I think I got something," he muttered and kept pressing forward, catching a glimpse of the hood a few yards ahead.

The figure paused and turned halfway back. A man peered out from the edge of the hood and Steve's stomach swooped uncomfortably low. He thought he saw the man's eyes flicker to him once and the little bit of his mouth he could see lifted into a smirk but it was hard to know for sure because the man's mouth was as scarred and pockmarked as the rest of his face.

It couldn't be. It was utterly impossible. He'd turned himself into a bomb. Steve saw Wanda throw him sky high into a skyscraper. There was no way anyone could survive that kind of a blast, let alone walk away.

And yet where he stood, Steve swore on his mother's grave he was staring at Brock Rumlow.

"I don't believe it," he challenged himself.

"Don't believe what? What's going on?"

The man was on the move again. For the moment, Steve ignored Natasha's questions. Now he followed fast, feeling the rush run through him that only came with feeling truly threatened. If this was really real, then Steve had no time to waste. He jogged at a fast clip, determined not to lose him. For what felt like forever the pair zig-zagged amongst the foot traffic before the hooded man ducked into the narrow alley separating buildings. Steve caught himself in a knot of tourists taking up the entire sidewalk and he burst past them and into the alley to find-

"Damnit!"

"Steve, what's going on?"

"I don't know," he panted, looking around wildly for any sign of where the man might have gone. There were two doors, one on either side of him. He checked the first and then the second, both of them locked. Trailing deeper into the alley, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, waiting for an attack from any direction. "I could have sworn I saw-but there's just no way."

"Saw what?" Natasha pressed.

But Steve knew he wasn't wrong. He couldn't explain how it was even possible but that didn't change the truth.

"I saw Rumlow - he's alive."

Steve thought Sam summed it up best.

"You're shitting me"

X X X

"Well, I think that was a resounding success. Don't you?"

Sadie's head fell against the back of the limo seat with a protracted exhale. Cracking one eye open, she fixed Nakia with a scowl. In the blurry edges of her peripheral vision, she could see little wisps of green, managing all manner of issues, she was certain.

"You have no idea how bad my headache would be-if I could have one anymore."

Nakia's grin sharpened. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I honestly don't know anymore. Sometimes it feels like my body doesn't know I'm in distress."

Rolling her eyes, Nakia stretched her legs out in front of her, kicking off her shoes and crossing one ankle over the other. "Don't be so dramatic. It wasn't that bad."

Sadie begged to differ. "I think trudging up the beach at Normandy was more pleasant."

Now that she stood on the other side of the dreaded press conference and reception, Sadie understood that it wasn't as bad as she'd built it up to be. Just like the lead up to a battle that would overwhelm the field hospital, sometimes the waiting was the worst part. Once Sadie was in the press room and in front of the cameras there hadn't been time to think, she just braced herself and put on the best smile she could. The reception afterwards was just a revolving door of diplomats and attendees, all clamoring to make introductions, like crows attracted to a shiny object. Even though she didn't have the headache, she could still see the blinding camera flashes behind her closed eyes and hear the low din of the crowd. The noise beat against her temples and left her feeling overwhelmed, desperate to crawl into her bed and stay there.

But that wasn't meant to be. While T'Challa and Okoye returned to the Wakandan Embassy on some sudden, emergency business, Nakia ushered Sadie into a different limo, claiming they had one more stop to make before returning to the Embassy for a break before the evening's dinner and reception.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see," Nakia repeated her cryptic tease once more, evading Sadie's question for the third time.

At this point, Sadie didn't particularly care where Nakia was taking her as long as it didn't involve more awkward small talk with diplomats that swung wildly from wide-eyed and uncertain of whether to treat Sadie like a young woman or their grandmother, and self-important suits who deigned to talk to her simply out of politeness.

Sadie contented herself to stare out the window while the city slid by, glimpses of Baroque architecture that distorted at the edge of the window before disappearing. She would have liked to spend time in the city, admiring the explosion of color around her, peering in elaborate window displays of shops and feeling the heartbeat of so much life around her. Everything about Vienna defied her expectations. The Europe she knew was beaten and bruised, licking its wounds from a war that reached far beyond the battlefields. She remembered stout-faced civilians, each one bowed beneath the weight of unimaginable loss, grieving the deaths of loved ones, of lost homes, of lost national identities, or wrestling with the reality that human beings were capable of inflicting such evil upon one another that even now Sadie couldn't truly get her head around it. There wasn't a trace of that grief in Vienna. The people she watched at stop lights were engrossed in the present, rushing to meetings and lunches, chasing children, eyes glued to their phones, and utterly unaware of the miracle that stood around them.

"What is it?" Nakia read her frown from across the limo.

"It's nothing," Sadie murmured. They sat at an intersection, waiting for their chance to turn left. Two young women embraced at the street corner, exchanging brief kisses and moved away to reveal a mother toting her infant on her hip. A trio of men dressed in suits gestured animatedly while they talked, waiting for their signal to cross. There wasn't a uniform in sight. Sadie couldn't see any sign of hardship. There were no piles of rubble three stories high blocking her view or people shifting the debris in vain search for lost family members or friends. "Sometimes it's hard to believe, that's all."

"A lot happened while you were out," Nakia suggested, misreading Sadie's awe.

A sad smile tugged at her lips and she turned away from the street, shrugging towards her friend. "Whether we want it to or not, the world spins on," she replied and then shook her head, doing her best to clear her head of her melancholy. Sadie blamed it on the stress of the press conference and the inescapable feeling that she'd just opened a Pandora's box she'd never be able to close. "For so long it felt impossible that life would ever get back to normal after the war."

"But it did," Nakia noted as the car turned left and coasted into the far right lane. The limo slowed to a gentle halt. "And as my King said the other day. You had a hand in that."

The driver opened the door and Sadie took the hand, getting out of the car to face a shining black metal fence that ran the length of several large brick buildings. Behind the bars she could see patches of neat green grass bisected by walkways that connected to and led up to the buildings. A handful of children played on one of the sidewalks, sitting in little groups drawing with chalk, supervised by two young women wearing matching navy t-shirts. Looking away from the group of children, she noticed a large sign affixed to the fence to the right of the gates. The air expelled from her lungs in a whoosh, caving her chest and her stomach inwards, but she hardly noticed. Her mind lurched through the haze of her shock to comprehend what she was reading.

The International Humanitarian Aid Project - est. 1947.

Nakia appeared at her side, a pair of flat shoes dangled from her fingers.

"Welcome to your legacy," she smiled up at the pristine buildings. Children's drawings were taped to several of the windows, set above blooming flower boxes. "Would you like to see it?"

Speechless, Sadie traded her high heels for the flats and followed Nakia through the gates where a giant of a man in his mid-forties awaited them. His weathered face was adorned with a bushy blonde beard that somehow made him appear imposing until he smiled, warming over his pale blue eyes and bringing even more color to his ruddy cheeks. Like the young women in the play yard, he wore a t-shirt that Sadie could now see bore IHAP's logo.

"Miss Reid, I cannot tell you what an honor it is." The man stuck out an enormous hand that engulfed Sadie's when she took it. "I'm Jonas Eder, Head of Operations for this site. We are thrilled to have you visiting."

Sadie's jaw dropped. "This entire complex? It's all?"

Jonas's smile broadened, if that was even possible. "All IHAP?" Sadie nodded, too dumbstruck to say anything else. "Yes ma'am." He turned his ruddy face up to the buildings, chest swelling in affection. "We are a full service operation for about five hundred Sokovians, refugees from the Ultron incident."

Sadie was vaguely aware of the Ultron incident but got lost in the details of technology that she didn't understand. What she did take away from the files she read and mentions in books was that the scale of destruction was on par with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, displacing hundreds of thousands and would take decades to repair. Yet it never occurred to her that her own brainchild would be involved in the cleanup, though now that she stood in the courtyard it was completely obvious.

Jonas took a moment to introduce himself to Nakia and then began the tour. Sadie only half-listened while Jonas and Nakia discussed outreach. They toured the two apartment buildings, giving a glance into the small but well-maintained living spaces for too many displaced families. Jonas proudly showed off the various amenities and described the programs in place to help refugees find work and financial counselling to help families save and eventually return to either Sokovia or find permanent residency elsewhere in Europe. Sadie's head spun with information overload. In her wildest dreams she never imagined that an idea borne out of her desire to run away from home would spawn into this, into housing and education, childcare, job and financial counselling.

"On top of providing housing, we also provide medical services on site," Jonas opened the doors to the final building on the property. "The bottom two floors contain examination rooms and sterile rooms for small in-house procedures. We have a partnership with two hospitals in the city, reserving time slots for advanced imaging and operations as needed."

"What types of patients are you seeing?" Sadie asked as they walked past open exam rooms where she spied padded examination tables draped with white paper, large overhead lights and large cabinets for supplies. A handful of rooms were painted with cheery colors, depicting jungles and forests with cartoonish animals that brought a smile to her face.

"All types," Jonas replied as they mounted the stairs. "When we first set up shop it was a lot of follow-ups on injuries sustained in the disaster, a handful of pregnancies and births, ongoing cancer treatments, and ensuring that patients with chronic conditions had access to necessary medicines like insulin."

"How have you handled long-term issues? I heard that there were some unique concerns after Sokovia," Nakia inquired but Sadie didn't hear Jonas's answer.

A door stood open near the stairwell, upon peering inside, she discovered that the room had been converted into a hospital room. The bed reminded Sadie of her hospital bed at the Avengers compound, advanced and designed to better promote patient comfort than the rickety metal beds from her day. An older man lay in the bed, eyes glued on the television mounted to the wall while a little dog lay curled up in his lap. He absently petted the dog as he released stilted breath into his oxygen mast, casting condensation on the clear plastic. Upon hearing a newcomer, the dog raised its head, capturing the man's attention. His lined, tired eyes read Sadie's hesitation and he motioned that she could come inside, holding out his hand.

"Hello," she said, coming to his bedside and taking his hand. "I'm Sadie."

"This is Yuri, one of our long-term patients." A strange woman's voice captured Sadie's attention. Whirling around, she discovered a redhead standing in the doorway, clad in navy scrubs and a white coat. "We have several patients who have sustained lung damage and have chronic respiratory issues from the disaster, mostly from inhaling building insulation while trying to help with the evacuation. Yuri is here for oxygen treatments and we're hoping to book an OR at the hospital for an exploratory procedure to determine the extent of his damage so we can formulate a treatment plan." Sadie looked down at the little dog who had shoved its head beneath her free hand. "Yuri's wife died; Bruno is all he has left so we don't separate them if we can help it."

Sadie looked back to the man and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. The redhead doctor spoke to the man in fluent Sokovia, smiling warmly as she gestured to Sadie. Whether Yuri understood the significance of Sadie's presence she didn't get to learn, he was taken with a violent coughing fit. Powerless to help, Sadie moved out of the way as the doctor sprang into action. Not wanting to be in the way and feeling as though she'd intruded, Sadie backed out of the room and trailed to where Jonas and Nakia stood in the waiting area, deep in conversation.

"Is everything okay?" Nakia asked but Sadie didn't get to answer.

"I'm sorry about that." The doctor rushed down the hall. Sadie took a moment to really look at her and her breath hitched in her chest. Looking at her was like looking at a memory, a fuzzy photograph. The details appeared familiar to her but at once strange, distorted by time or distance. Holding out a hand, she started for Sadie. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting you-I'm Doctor Victoria-"

Sadie's eyes fell to the name stitched onto her coat. Her knees almost gave out. "Holmes."

Victoria nodded. She seemed almost apprehensive, as if afraid that Sadie would react poorly to the sudden revelation. They grasped each other's hands. "I'm Evelyn and Ian's granddaughter."

It was too much for Sadie. "Here, sit, sit," Jonas took her by the numb elbow to one of two small sofas in the waiting area. She sank down, barely supported by her knees, unable to take her eyes off Victoria who sat next to her.

"It must be a shock for you. I'm sorry if it was so sudden. Truth be told, I wasn't even supposed to be on shift today but when I heard you were coming I switched with Doctor Raskin just to meet you," Victoria explained. As she spoke, she reached into her pockets and produced a few photographs. "I grew up hearing stories about the war from grandma and grandpa, they told me so much about you I feel as if I already know you."

Sadie wasn't sure what was more disorienting: hearing Evelyn referred to as 'grandma' or recognizing her dear friend in her sixties, sporting silvery-streaked red hair and lines radiating from the corners of her eyes. Memorialized in color, Evelyn appeared utterly foreign to Sadie, dressed in a smart royal blue pantsuit and holding a little girl on her lap.

"I was about three when that picture was taken. I'm Teddy's youngest."

Teddy? Her godson Teddy? "The last time I saw him was his christening." Her heart ached. Of course the sweet baby boy she knew was no more, he'd grown up and had a family of his own. "And you're a doctor?"

The way Victoria shone with pride could have been a dead ringer for Ian every time Sadie passed his impromptu verbal tests on anatomy and pathology. "A general surgeon. It runs in the family, I think. Dad's an ophthalmologist and my brother is a pediatrician. He did a stint with IHAP after med school."

"So," Sadie cleared her throat, uncertain if she could continue the emotional talk, lest she begin crying for what felt like the millionth time since she thawed. "Are you on a tour as well?"

"No," Victoria looked fondly around the waiting room. "What started out as a six month tour turned into a year, which turned into two and then I just never left. There's at least one permanent staff doctor at every active site, to help new volunteers transition and to liaise with IHAP HQ. I started out at a site in the Ukraine and then was in Sokovia for about seven years until the disaster. After the Ultron incident we were transferred here."

"Doc Holmes has been a godsend to us," Jonas interjected.

Without realizing it, Sadie snorted in laughter. In the face of three curious expressions, she waved a dismissive hand. "You have no idea how odd it is to hear that name again. That's what we called your grandfather. I'm not sure many of the men in the Howling Commandos even knew his first name was Ian."

Sadie recognized the hunger in Victoria's face. The yearning for any small scrap of new information was an all-too familiar feeling and in this case, Sadie was more than happy to oblige. She would do anything she could to keep the memory of her friends alive and well.

"I didn't get to go to any of the reunions, but I met Peggy Carter a few times and Howard Stark took us to dinner once when we all went up to New York for a weekend."

Sadie couldn't describe these revelations as anything other than painful. More often than not her desire to know more about her lost years was accompanied by a visceral ache. She missed her friends. When she heard that the Commandos had reunions, that Peggy went to visit Evelyn, that Howard wined and dined his friends when they came to the city, it scratched at the raw nerves lining the hole in her heart. She should have been there. It was all Sadie could think as she considered how beautifully Evelyn aged. They should have been together, two old biddies drinking sweet tea on the front porch and trading idle church gossip. She should have been there to spoil Teddy absolutely rotten and to lavish an absurd amount of baby gifts on little Victoria. Her whole chest hurt with every breath she took. How nice would she have looked? Wrinkled and grey just like Evelyn, thriving in her golden years?

She caught her reflection in the glass windows. There was no sign of age there. Thanks to a combination of time and excellent medical care her face was full again, skin smooth and unblemished, save a thin white scar above her eyebrow. Age had yet to touch her body though she felt it in her heart. And though she was grateful for the second chance she had in her life, there was a part of her that would have given anything to go back in time, just so she could watch IHAP blossom and to grow old with her friends.

The anger that Okoye mentioned returned in full force, a sledgehammer pounding at her normally iron grip on her faculties. Sadie felt so stupid, sitting there with three people desperate to help her, desperate to show her how much good came from her short life but she just couldn't see it. All she saw was everything she missed, every wedding, every birth, every death, everything was all gone, ripped from her against her will and for what? Even months later, Sadie still didn't have the answer to that question.

"Miss Reid?" Victoria closed a hand over hers. "Are you alright?"

No.

That was the short answer to Victoria's question but there was no way she could say that. Sadie's current sad situation wasn't Victoria's fault any more than it was Jonas's or Nakia's. Unloading her emotional trauma on a complete stranger wouldn't help Sadie and it certainly couldn't fix what ailed her. Even if she wanted to, Sadie wasn't even sure she knew how to put her pain into words. How was someone supposed to explain the wounds that continued to sting and burn, festering in the gaps between her sweet memories, threatening to swallow them whole? Victoria deserved better than that. And so, Sadie did what she'd done for as long as she could remember, since before her father died, since before losing Betty, before Bucky's death. She did what southern daughters of southern gentlemen were expected to do. Pushing the pain aside, she conjured up a pleasant smile and nodded.

"Yes, and I'd love to see the rest of the medical facilities, if you have time."

Victoria's delighted affirmation was well-worth the effort. But as Sadie followed her around the medical building she felt the constant ticking from somewhere deep in her chest. There was no longer any denying the inevitability. She could put on a brave face for Evelyn's granddaughter but the truth was that Sadie was a ticking time bomb. And it was only a matter of time until she went off.

X X X

Sadie thought her day couldn't possibly get any longer but she was proved wrong upon arriving at the Wakandan embassy. T'Challa awaited them and introduced a man that Nakia apparently already knew. Exhausted of introductions and surprises, Sadie wanted nothing more than to take her leave and go sink into a steaming hot bath but she couldn't just ignore the king. Instead she shook the strange man's hand and exchanged the perfunctory pleasantries, finding the last of her good humor and putting it on like a mask for this newcomer.

T'Challa placed a light hand at Agent Everett Ross's shoulder, a small sign of respect.

"The Secretary of State recently appointed Agent Ross as the lead of the manhunt for Captain Rogers and Bucky Barnes," T'Challa explained. Sadie fought every muscle in her face to keep her eyebrows from flying up in surprise and her mouth from falling open. The man in charge of hunting Steve and Bucky was here? Under the same roof as the same people responsible for granting Bucky asylum and allowing Steve to get away? It was a good thing Sadie was tongue-tied from the unexpected revelation, lest she trip up and ask the king what on earth he was thinking. From where he stood just behind Everett Ross, T'Challa subtly raised his eyebrows in a clear sign to just roll with the punches.

Sadie had hoped she was going to get through the trip without having to confront Steve and Bucky's situation head-on. For the few minutes she spoke with Secretary Ross at the UN he'd been shockingly demure, content to engage in surface-level small talk related to her recovered health and how she was enjoying her stay in Wakanda. The small knot of his peers surrounding them likely influenced his behavior and for that she was grateful. Facing the press was hard enough, she was glad to avoid another one of his fruitless interrogations. So when they parted she was pleasantly surprised.

She should have known better.

What better way for Secretary Ross to send the message that he was still watching than send his hunting dog to her front door?

And yet, Everett Ross turned out to be far more mild-mannered and downright pleasant than his overlord. Soft-spoken and far more genial, he took several minutes to ask after her own health, her transition to the world and then shared a rather sweet personal fact that left Sadie less irritated than she might have otherwise been.

"I actually wrote a report about you for a college history class," Everett explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "So it's a little weird meeting you in person."

Sadie couldn't be upset about that. "There's a lot that's unusual about my circumstances, Agent Ross. But I hope you got a good grade at least."

"I did, actually. It's a shame that you're caught up with this whole manhunt mess."

Mess was hardly the word Sadie would choose. She would have chosen words like 'unjust,' 'pointless,' and 'inconvenient' long before she deemed the situation a mess, though she supposed that Everett wasn't wrong. The fallout from Steve's decision to break up the Avengers certainly seemed to ripple out with multiple unintended consequences and left the wrong people picking up the pieces. Sadie thought about Rhodey alone at the Avengers compound, learning how to walk again and of course herself, doing her best to play coy in the face of men who could make her life a living hell if they chose.

"I wouldn't say I'm caught up in anything," she countered, the tiniest trace of a polite smile playing at her lips, as though she were utterly disinterested in the entire affair. "Since I woke up I've either been at the Avengers compound or in Wakanda. It's hard to get tangled up in a hunt for two men when I've been largely inaccessible."

"So, you haven't had any contact with either Captain Rogers or Bucky Barnes," he persisted, cutting straight to the heart of the issue.

Everett Ross was nice enough that Sadie almost felt bad for lying directly to his face. Almost.

"No, I haven't, I'm afraid."

"I find that really surprising," he was so mild and casual that Sadie almost didn't catch the edge of disbelief, just barely sharpening his tone. She was taken aback by his subtlety and wondered if this was why Secretary Ross chose him for the job. "Given how much Barnes talks about you in his journals and the fact that Captain Rogers never left a man behind. I figured once they knew you were out in the world it would only be a matter of time before one of them tried to drop a line."

Sadie bristled at the insinuation that perhaps Steve and Bucky didn't care enough about her to find her.

"Well, that's not entirely true now, is it? After all, if it were none of us would be in this mess." The barb flew off the tip of Sadie's tongue before she could stop herself. Sadie was glad Steve wasn't there to hear that, there was little sense in reopening old wounds. She chalked it up to the vestiges of her earlier anger rearing its ugly head. "Besides, I'm certain both Steve and Bucky are smart enough to know that with the world's eye on me, I'm hardly a safe connection to keep."

Everett blinked at her. Sadie didn't feel bad in the slightest for her sharpness; she was tired of people assuming she was a pushover or, even worse, naive just because she missed a few decades of world history. He opened his mouth once to respond, closed it, started once more and then stopped. Holding up a finger to try and refute her observation he paused and then shook his head, but Sadie could see his respect for her rise.

"Well, if there's any additional information you have that you didn't tell Secretary Ross, I'd really appreciate it. This isn't like a normal manhunt and I could use all the help I could get."

Sadie almost asked him what made him think she was even inclined to help. The last she heard Secretary Ross was gunning for the max sentence for Steve and life imprisonment for Bucky, if not the death penalty. Why did these men all think that, just because Sadie was under their thumb, she would be willing to cooperate? Their assumptions and casual arrogance baffled her, but one sharp look from T'Challa, who perhaps thought the same thing, sent her vitriol slithering back down her throat and into her stomach where it belonged.

"I don't think I do, but if anything comes to mind I will certainly find a way to let you know."

"That'd be great. And in the meantime, if any of you have any contact-"

"With who? Two white men running around Wakanda?" It was Nakia who took the words right out of Sadie's mouth. "I think we'd notice."

Sadie did feel a little bad for the way Everett flushed in the face of her snark, but not so bad that she was sad to see T'Challa escort Everett to the main entrance, where his car waited for him.

"That was rude," T'Challa said in a low tone, but Nakia didn't appear even remotely mollified.

"I like Agent Ross," she said mildly. "But he should know better than to come here and make veiled threats and accusations."

"He is just doing his job."

The pair descended into a little tiff as they ascended the stairs. Sadie amused herself by listening to their little lover's quarrel and then almost laughed out loud when they entered a large drawing room. Natasha stretched across one of the sofas, taking care to keep her booted feet dangling over the edge. Sadie still didn't know what to make of her; the few words they'd exchanged she couldn't figure out if Natasha was being sincere, sarcastic, or purposely vague, perhaps a combination of all three. At any rate, she'd forced Sam and Steve to retreat to the sofa on the opposite side of the lacquered coffee table. Sam slouched down with an arm draped over the back of the sofa but Steve sat tense and unmoving.

"You know your judge, jury, and executioner was just downstairs," she told Steve. His eyes flickered to her in silent acknowledgement but he didn't open his mouth to reply. Sam shot to his feet and offered his seat to Nakia and then dragged a chair over for Sadie.

Natasha glanced up from the newspaper in her hands. "Which one?"

"Agent Ross."

Sam's nose scrunched in confusion. "I always confuse him with the other one. Which one is he again?"

"The one who locked Bucky in a fortified cell." Steve sounded far less amused and cavalier than Natasha did.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Sadie. The fact that Everett Ross stood in the foyer of the Wakandan embassy while his quarry lounged upstairs was more than a little funny. Nobody had to look for two white men running around Wakanda, not when one of them was already in the drawing room. Despite the seriousness of Steve's situation it certainly highlighted his critical advantage: he had friends that nobody, not Secretary or Agent Ross could touch.

"Agent Ross is a pushover," Sam dismissed the idea that Agent Ross was a threat to them and Sadie was inclined to agree. She had no doubt that the man was good at his job but he'd been tasked with the impossible. Even if he could manage to track down Steve and his companions, there was no way any of them would come quietly.

"Ross is the least of our worries."

At once, Sadie knew something was wrong. Steve's moods swung on a wide spectrum and he tended to make mountains out of molehills, but when something was really wrong Sadie knew better than to blow him off. Even the way he sat, hunched over with his forearms resting on his knees spoke volumes. There were levels to Steve's brooding but his thousand yard stare into nothing was less brooding and more thoughtful, as though he were reviewing tactics in his head or trying to piece together a confusing puzzle. She'd seen him look this way before, in the main war room of the SSR Bunker, standing over the large tactical map, scowling and muttering ideas to Bucky and Falsworth while he pushed little figures across the map, making plans, formulating attacks, taking risks.

"What happened?" Nakia beat Sadie to the punch.

"Steve saw a ghost," Natasha replied and shrugged at Steve as if to say 'what else did you expect' when he glared at her.

"I saw Brock Rumlow."

Nakia's brow furrowed. "That mercenary in Lagos? Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

"Supposed to being the operative words," Sam muttered and Sadie got the distinct impression that none of Steve's companions were quite as convinced as he was.

Though she'd heard of or at least read the name somewhere in a dossier, she couldn't remember the particulars. Sam filled in the blanks, giving Nakia and her a brief history which was punctuated by Steve's gentle reminder that Rumlow was often part of the team responsible for handling Bucky on domestic missions when he was still the Winter Soldier. Sadie had done a fairly good job of shoving Bucky into the back of her mind for the majority of her trip but Rumlow's history and apparent resurrection piqued her interest. While Sam and Natasah remained uncertain about the veracity of Steve's claim, Sadie believed him. He was one of the most certain men she'd ever met and his observations were rarely mistaken. If Steve said he saw Brock Rumlow returned from the dead, then he did and that was all there was to it.

"And you think you saw him today outside the UN?"

"Yeah. I tried to follow him but lost him down an alley. I found a manhole at the end so I'm guessing he used the sewer system to get away."

Sadie made a face. There wasn't any amount of money she'd take to venture in any city's sewers. "What do you think he was doing?"

"I don't know, but it's nothing good."

Natasha sat up a little straighter. Her movements caught Steve's attention and they locked eyes. "It's not that I don't trust your judgment," Natasha started and the corner of Steve's mouth twitched. "But are you absolutely sure? It's possible that he survived Lagos but it seems unlikely."

"I know what I saw, Nat."

They stared at each other for a long moment, having a silent conversation that Sadie wished she understood. From the outset it was clear that Steve greatly valued Natasha's opinion and the way they worked together reminded Sadie of the Commandos. While Steve was unquestionably the leader of this odd assortment of fugitives, Natasha held a strange, intense kind of power all her own. Her cool demeanor reminded Sadie of Peggy and where Steve often let his emotions get the better of his decisions, Natasha struck Sadie as rational, unblinking and utterly lethal. Despite their frequent bickering, Steve appeared to trust Natasha implicitly, which was why he spoke to her so frankly, imploring her to return the favor.

"Besides," Sam's amusement was a welcome shift in the mood. "Is it really that unbelievable? We've got a lot of experience with people who cheated death."

Sadie shifted uncomfortably in her seat and everyone else seemed to echo her agitation. Although she didn't know all the facts, she picked up the seriousness of the situation just from the theories that Steve and the others threw out when it came to Rumlow's possible motives and plans. He hated Steve and his friends and prior to his death had made it a personal mission to wreak havoc and make their lives hell. But things were different now and it was obvious that Steve felt the sting of being at a disadvantage.

"I've got some friends who still have military connections and a couple of them owe me some favors. I could see if they've heard any noise," Sam suggested.

"What about calling To-" Natasha stopped at Steve's icy look. Holding her hands up in defense she raised her eyebrows in a silent challenge. In the face of his open disapproval, she persisted. "You'd be stupid not to call him."

"We don't know what Rumlow's doing, or what he wants and until we do, what am I gonna tell Tony that he'd actually believe? No. For now, this is our fight." Natasha rolled her eyes but didn't fight him on it. Sadie felt her disapproval radiate across the room and sympathized. She knew a thing or two about obstinate men who didn't know how to listen. Natasha's eyes flickered to hers and she made a face; Steve's refusal to reach out to Tony had almost nothing to do with not knowing what Rumlow was up to and everything about swallowing his pride. Sadie had been on the receiving end of his ire once before and knew that he could hold a grudge with the best of them, even if it meant holding that grudge might further disadvantage them. Steve's shoulders sagged under the weight Natasha's glare and, to Sadie's surprise, relented just a little. "At least until we know what we're dealing with."

It wasn't what Natasha wanted, that much was obvious. If Sadie had to guess, she wanted her former co-workers and friends to bury the hatchet; but, having seen both sides of the argument, Sadie thought a snowball stood a better chance in hell. "Well, I guess that's good enough for now."

From there Steve launched into the best plan he could formulate on the fly, tasking the members of his team to surreptitiously reach out to any contacts they might have left and do their best to find any of Rumlow's old associates that might lead them in the right direction. It sounded like a wild goose chase to Sadie but Steve had done more with less before and she didn't question his methods. As the group prepared to disperse so the diplomats could prepare for the coming evening festivities, Steve paused.

"What's on your schedule tomorrow?"

Sadie leapt to the itinerary she'd reviewed only that morning. "I'm sitting in on the Accords progress talks and then having lunch with Tony before we fly back to Wakanda. Why?" Steve's scowl deepened. "Oh for God's sake, Steve. This isn't middle school - I'm not going to limit my own connections just because you have an issue with-"

"It's not that," he waved her off. He waited until Nakia was out of earshot. "I don't think it's a coincidence that the first time Rumlow shows his face it's outside the UN when you're making your first public appearance."

"No," she said gently but firmly. Steve started to argue but stopped when she laid a hand on his forearms, crossed tightly over his broad chest. "Look, I appreciate that you're trying to protect me but I am not going to put my life on hold because of this. From what Shuri can tell I might actually be bullet-proof so I like my odds." Her irritation broke when Steve turned his face downwards, hiding his deep frown. Against her better judgment she let loose a breathless smile and a little laugh that did nothing to assuage his concern. "Steve, I survived a world war on two fronts, I think I'll manage to scrape through a lunch with Tony Stark. After all, he is Iron Man."

Steve's tiny half-laugh relieved her worry that he wasn't going to let this go. "Yeah, I guess you could have worse company. It's just really strange that you're having lunch with him. I feel like I should be there or something."

As Sadie suspected, much of Steve's dour mood had almost nothing to do with Brock Rumlow. Being isolated from the rest of the world, relegated to sneaking around in the shadows had left him feeling alone, stranded on a deserted island while he watched the rest of the world pass him by. Of course he should have been at tomorrow's lunch. He should have been waiting for her when she woke up and he should have been there to guide her through her turbulent first weeks in this brave new world. But if Sadie learned anything from her experience losing Bucky and returning home alone, it was that life rarely went according to plan and more often than not they were stuck making the best of what they had.

Rising up, she gave him a friendly hug. He kept his arm around her shoulder as they started down the hall towards their rooms. "Even if you're not going to be there it's still wonderful to have you around, Captain."

"The feeling's mutual," Steve cast a sideways glance at her, the corner of his mouth rising. "Captain."

X X X

"Toto! I was about to send a search party."

Sadie glanced at her delicate wristwatch and frowned. "I'm two minutes late."

"I'm an impatient man, so minutes feel like eons."

She wondered if it was possible to injure herself by rolling her eyes into the back of her head. Stepping around Tony, she sank into the chair he pulled out for her and helped him slide back up to their table. The restaurant surrounding them was a thing of beauty, a cavernous dining room with enormous windows opening onto the street where a vista of baroque architecture existed like a living mural as passersby hurried on with their days. Modern crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, catching the afternoon sun and casting small rainbows on the tablecloth that Sadie wished she could catch and shove in her pocket for a little extra luck. The din of their fellow diners rose up and evaporated somewhere near the ceiling. Sadie noticed that they'd turned more than one head but the restaurant wasn't the type to allow anyone to approach them, it was far too nice for that kind of behavior.

Tony engaged her on light fare while they got through the perfunctory issues of ordering and waiting for drinks and food. Mostly he wanted to know about Wakanda and tried to pry any information out of her that she could reasonably explain about the technology she'd seen there thus far.

"Rhodey says hi, by the way," Tony said as soon as their waiter disappeared, leaving them both with a full glass of wine and time to really talk. "I think he misses having you around."

"That's a large complex. I imagine he'd be hungry for just about any company he can get," she said and then turned her sly look into her wine glass, contemplating the gold rim of her glass. "At least he's got his physical therapy sessions to keep him busy."

Tony's sharp laugh confirmed her suspicions that Doctor Palmer was indeed still overseeing Rhodey's therapy. "Yeah, I'm sure it's the therapy he's so eager for every other day. Of course I'll have a hell of a time finding a different therapist for him if he goes off and falls in love with her."

Sadie wisely chose not to point out that Rhodey was likely already well on his way. "Something tells me you didn't invite me to lunch to discuss Rhodey's love life."

"Why, Toto, are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive? I'm shocked. Truly appalled."

It took every ounce of her self control to stop herself from kicking him beneath the table. How anyone put up with Tony long-term baffled her and she could only imagine the fights that he'd had with Steve whose tolerance for bullshit was even lower than hers. Rather than engage him on any level, she sipped her wine and waited for him to move beyond his childish antics. Tony realized quickly that she wasn't going to take the bait and deflated.

"Your generation is really all about killing a good time, aren't you?"

Sadie lifted a single eyebrow and Tony caved.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get a taste of good food and a glimpse of the wider world outside of the Wakandan delegation that's so intent on keeping constant tabs on you."

Buried in Tony's observation was the further observation that nearly everyone around Sadie had ulterior motives where she was concerned. She wasn't so foolish as to think that her Dora Milaje escorts were there out of some affection for her and some moral obligation to her safety . It was hard to avoid the fact that her relationship with Wakanda was transactional to a certain degree. She was an investment, a gamble that T'Challa was willing to take if her enhanced DNA yielded the medical advances it promised. Still, Sadie could see how perhaps T'Challa's protective stance continued to close her off from the rest of the world that she was beginning to miss.

"T'Challa has a lot riding on me, that's all," she shrugged and continued to nurse her wine.

"Speaking of that." The corner of her mouth rose, there was the rub, she thought, settling a little deeper into her seat. "How is your evaluation really going?"

"Shuri sends semi-weekly reports to the Accords council, I'm surprised Secretary Ross doesn't forward them to you," Sadie observed, far too innocent to be believed.

Tony looked like he was one second from dropping his forehead to the table. Sadie knew it was wrong to jerk him around like this but it was too much fun. Sometimes even the great Tony Stark was far too easy of a target.

"Princess Shuri's reports are about as useful as the paper Ross prints them on," Tony countered and Sadie's amusement only grew, along with her wicked grin. "I thought sixteen year olds were oversharers but your little mad scientist is irritatingly vague."

Their waiter reappeared, presenting them with their first course. Sadie's mouth watered at the sight of poached lobster on a bed of shaved fennel and braised mushrooms. She couldn't remember the last time she had lobster or any food this nice. Tony let her enjoy the first two bites of her meal, savoring the sweet, buttery taste that she'd never experienced in her life. When her initial euphoria passed, she returned to the subject at hand.

"Truth be told, there isn't much to report yet. Shuri and I don't even know how to fully test my enhancements without raising all manner of ethical issues. She's compiling the results from about two dozen different scans and tests she's conducted since I arrived, trying to find answers in everything from my gross anatomy to my cellular structure. But even with her resources, unravelling my DNA is going to take a long time."

"I'm surprised she hasn't turned around your test results faster."

Sadie's insides shifted uncomfortably. There were reasons for that, reasons that involved Shuri's other ancient test subject. But that was easy enough to brush off. "Shuri is responsible for the development of technology that spans a wide array of Wakanda's needs including her brother's suit and outfitting the Dora Milaje. I'm hardly her only project."

"What do you think her tests are going to yield?"

Sadie shrugged again. "I have no idea. We suspect that my powers can't reverse already healed damage, considering I still have all my scars from before. I've had some success conjuring my powers and using them on others."

"Yeah, I read about that. Did Shuri really slice her hand open just to force you to heal it? Her report didn't come outright and say it but I read between the lines."

Sadie speared another bite of lobster with her sterling fork. "Her methods are occasionally unorthodox," she said evasively. "But she does get results. Why, do you have a problem with it?"

"Do I have a problem with the Wakandans getting first crack at what might wind up being world-altering medical technology? No. Of course not. Why ever would you think that?"

Blood pooled in Sadie's cheeks. Rationally, she knew she wasn't responsible for Tony's jealousy. She'd made an informed decision that was hers entirely to make. It wasn't her fault that Tony and Steve were on the outs or that he wanted her ex-fiance dead. It certainly wasn't her fault or her problem that Tony couldn't swallow his pride and call Steve or vice versa. She wasn't going to be made to feel guilty for that.

"Don't be so dramatic, Tony. I have every intention of sharing. Wakanda just gives me an opportunity to explore all of this," she laid a hand on the table where nobody else could see, letting the tiniest flicker of green zip over the tips of her fingers. Tony's eyes volleyed from the table to her face and then back to the table. "Without the world watching."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to act unimpressed. "You know, there's plenty of space at the compound if you ever want to visit. Or better yet, come to New York for a while. It'd be a change of scenery and I'd put you up in style. You might like getting out and seeing everything you've missed."

Sadie would be lying if she said the offer wasn't tempting. Wakanda was a beautiful country and T'Challa a gracious host, but there were moments when she found herself longing for familiarity. Whatever she was looking for in Wakanda, she'd yet to find. Much as she hated to admit, she'd been bitterly disappointed by Bucky's lukewarm reception and failure to find his footing where she was concerned. Given the circumstances, it was unrealistic to expect anything more from him, but that didn't erase the sting and it occasionally left Sadie wanting more, even if it meant leaving him behind.

And yet, for all the heartache they'd put each other through, she couldn't. Leaving Bucky wasn't an option, not when he was so broken. A part of her still clung to the hope that sooner or later he would realize that he needed her and she would be damned before she abandoned him. Especially when she knew he would do the same for her were their situations reversed.

Settling on a smile as polite and vague as the reports Shuri submitted to the Accords Council, Sadie ate the last bite of her lobster.

"Thanks for the offer, Tony. I'll keep it in mind."

Tony's offer stayed with Sadie on the flight back to Wakanda. The sun was high overhead when the delegation disembarked from the jet and each step Sadie took felt leaden and her heels nails sinking into the ground to hold her in place. She was ready for peace and quiet and, most importantly, a little distance from everyone to digest the news headlines and the general hubbub of the trip. But that was not meant to be.

Almost as soon as Shuri could sink her claws into Sadie, she whisked her away from the landing platform and the palace. Two of Sadie's doctors waited for her in the cool confines of Sadie's lab. Both doctors were women and, like many Wakandan women, were statuesque and almost unreadable in their silence and stoicism. She didn't know what to make of them standing together, each holding a tablet when she entered but their stony expressions didn't move an inch when Shuri brought Sadie in.

"Miss Reid, we've finished reviewing the detailed anatomy scans and tests that Princess Shuri has performed and we have some…" the two women shared a dubious glance, uncertain of how to go forward.

"We discovered an anomaly in the deep tissue and organ scans."

Every worry previously crowding Sadie's mind fizzled away. "An anomaly?" She echoed and didn't fight Shuri when she took her elbow, leading her to sit down. "What is it?"

X X X

"You have fallopian tube agenesis."

Thirty minutes later the words still rang between Sadie's ears, vibrating throughout her entire body, deep into her bones like a sledgehammer taken to a metal sheet. Everything else around her was quiet, distractions reduced below the level of white noise. She couldn't hear the click of her high heels on the marble floors in the palace or even the soft whoosh of her breath. Absently, she placed a hand over her heart, just to make sure it was still beating. The normally breathtaking tapestries hanging in the palace halls and the sculptures sitting atop marble pillars faded into dreary, white nothingness. Sadie couldn't feel the flashes of pain with every step she took in her shoes and she forgot to be annoyed by her hair, spilling down her shoulders in shiny waves.

Five words. That was all it took to take her entire life and flip it on its head. All of the annoyances or concerns from the last few days were just childish complaints. The heartbreak she'd been fighting against ever since waking up felt like nothing now. She stopped at the staircase that would take her to her room and paused, grasping the bannister. Gulping in a breath, she slid her hand from her heart down to her abdomen, faltering and finding herself utterly breathless. Frozen in place, she continued to replay the awful highlights of the subsequent conversation over and over again.

"It's a rare condition. You were born without your right fallopian tube and the left is underdeveloped," one of her doctors explained, reaching out to fold one of Sadie's trembling hands between hers.

"It means that you cannot naturally get pregnant."

Sadie knew what it meant, she'd put the pieces together almost immediately. She was well-versed in human anatomy. The fallopian tubes were a necessary component to human reproduction. And instead of having two, she'd been born with half of one. But understanding the body and the female reproductive system didn't lessen the heart-stopping shock of the news. Shuri, being all of sixteen and somewhat oblivious to the gravity of the news, only made things worse.

"It does confirm our suspicion that your powers cannot fix permanent or already healed conditions. Otherwise I would have expected your tubes to regenerate. I also believe it's likely that even if you could get pregnant your powers would identify the zygote as a threat to the system."

Sadie hastily wiped away her tears before banging her closed fist on the bannister. The sharp little pains evaporated almost instantly, only further heightening her distress. Was there anything she wouldn't give to get out of her own skin? She'd only just started to accept her powers for what they were but the weight of their curse renewed itself, bowing her shoulders and back to the point she thought she would collapse. Sadie was a prisoner in her own body, held hostage by powers that she never asked for, didn't want, and couldn't rid herself of.

Her knees gave and she slipped to sit down hard on the stairs, slumping over her knees. Resting her elbows on her legs she dropped her head into her hands, hair spilling in all directions to shield her expressionless face from the empty hall. The implications were just too big for her to wrap her mind around. Sadie thought she could hear the words a hundred times and still wouldn't be able to fully process the truth.

"You're fortunate our imagining technology is so advanced, we might have missed it otherwise."

A bitter peal of laughter fell from her cold lips.

"Lucky," she echoed Shuri's sentiment with none of the feeling. Deep down, Sadie knew that Shuri's looking for silver linings was partly her personality and partly her age and inexperience. Possibilities such as children hadn't yet crossed the young princess's mind, nor should they have. Sadie didn't blame Shuri for grasping at straws, even if she unwittingly delivered blow after crushing blow. Sadie felt about as far from lucky as a person could get. What was beneath the barrel? The muck? What was beneath that? Whatever it was, that's where Sadie found herself.

It took every ounce of her willpower to pull herself to her feet and continue the endless trek to the common area she shared with Bucky. The inevitability of seeing Bucky was an afterthought. Sadie wasn't sure she would ever be able to bring herself to tell Bucky. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like the sudden revelation of her infertility was going to matter to him or have an impact on their sham of a friendship anyway.

For a moment it was hard to care about Bucky when she felt the walls of her own life collapsing around her. But by the time she found herself in front of the door that led to the living area, she was nervous. Sadie knew what awaited her on the other side. There would be awkward small talk about her trip, about his new left arm, and about whether he took the job with Wakandan intelligence. They would dance around the tentativeness of their so-called friendship, ignoring the enormous elephant in the room: it was impossible to be just friends now. Sadie spent an entire weekend faking her way through dozens of conversations at the UN and in various meetings. All she had to do was conjure that charm up one last time and then she could escape to the privacy of her room and fall apart where nobody could see her.

"You can do that," she whispered, taking an extra second to ensure her hair wasn't a mess and wiping the undersides of her eyes once more to make sure she'd gotten any stray makeup. On the promise that she could drop the act as soon as she was alone, Sadie entered the common area where, sure enough, a familiar figure took up his post at the long dining room table they almost never used.

Sadie's suitcase sat in the entryway a few feet from her. Specks of dust floated through the thick shafts of waning sunlight that cut sharp angles across the floor and the furniture. For the first time, Sadie really appreciated the understated decor, the soothing colors and comfortable furniture that dotted the living and dining areas. A funny sort of nausea rolled through her though when she laid her focus on Bucky. He muttered to himself while he poured through what appeared to be several thick manilla files, making notes with a pen and sticky notes. She'd seen him do this before, when he read dossiers and personnel files in anticipation of running an interrogation on a POW. When Bucky concentrated like this he often missed cues or didn't hear doors open. She took the rare moment of his unawareness to admire the pull of his shirt against his broad shoulders and the resolute concentration that enhanced his chiseled features and the hardness of his blue eyes. For just a moment he reminded her of the man she'd fallen hopelessly in love with; the man she was still hopelessly in love with.

The yawning, bleak emptiness that opened up inside of her threatened to swallow her whole. In another life, Sadie wouldn't have hesitated to cross the room, push his papers to the side and press herself into his arms, actively seeking out his comfort. That Bucky, her Bucky, would have folded her tightly against him and stroked her hair while he swore they would figure it out together. Sadie fought a little sob. She wanted that. She wanted her Bucky, the man who could read her from a mile away and knew exactly what to do when she was on the verge of falling over the ledge, plunging towards the sharp rocks of her grief below. When she shifted her weight to take a step he heard the light tap of her heel and stiffened before he relaxed again.

"Hey," he dragged his metal fingers through his hair and pushed away from the table. "Your luggage showed up but you didn't."

Sadie ignored her suitcases sitting off to the side of the sofa. "Yeah, I had to see Shuri."

Bucky nodded and paused to flip his folders shut. Desperate to latch onto anything to talk about, she gestured to his left hand.

"You're doing better with the new prosthetic?"

Bucky held up his silver hand, flipping it over once to examine the back of his hand before twisting back around and shoving his hands in his pockets. He rocked back on his heels and gave her a slow nod.

"Turns out you were right, I was just overthinking it."

She nodded, vaguely recalling the events that happened not even a few days earlier. "I'm glad you got it sorted out. And you took T'Challa's offer, I see."

Bucky shrugged. "I've got to make myself useful somehow."

Sadie didn't refute him. She just didn't have it in her to point out the dangers of his new job and the likelihood that this was going to blow up in his face. Somehow in three days he'd changed but Sadie couldn't figure out how. His hair, his beard, his eyes, his mouth, his everything was still the exact same. The way he looked at her hadn't changed, she was still something more than a stranger and less than a lover and he still seemed unsure of what to do with his body in her presence. But there was something else there, some hesitance that stopped him from smiling too broadly at her, that held his shoulders too tight and seemed to coil around him, as though he couldn't keep enough distance between them. Sadie thought of their poorly-timed kiss and wondered if he was really so repulsed by what he'd done that he could barely be in the same room.

"You okay?"

And yet when he spoke to her she could hear his genuine concern. Bucky could put up his defenses and keep her at arm's length but he couldn't hide everything and that was what made everything so much harder for her.

"I'm fine."

When he rolled his eyes her stomach sank a little deeper. It wasn't fair, she thought, fighting off more tears. It wasn't fair that he could treat her like a stranger and then kiss her and then push her away but still know her as well as he did, try as he might to deny it.

"I didn't believe you whenever you said that back then and I don't now," he said, pursing his lips together and raising his eyebrows to drive home his total lack of surprise and gullibility. "We're supposed to be friends, right? So, you can talk to me."

Sure, Sadie could talk to him. She could tell him how much it hurt to stand in front of him knowing that he was never going to reciprocate her love. Sadie could explain that she still went to bed alone every night and woke up every morning, staring at his empty side of the bed, trying to forget the way he used to tug her into his chest so he could bury his face in her hair. She was sure he would delight in hearing that she was trying and failing to fall out of love with him and was on the verge of cracking open her ribs and pulling her heart out because surely it had to hurt less than this, than standing in front of him, desperate to tell him that being friends was the biggest bullshit lie she'd ever told herself and him. And of course she could hold her ground and tell him that to add unbelievable insult to injury, she couldn't have children.

All Sadie could think about were the stupid, playful arguments they'd had about their fictional six children. On walks home from the dance halls or late at night beneath the safety of his bedsheets they would barter and negotiate numbers, each coming up with their best persuasive arguments why six was either brilliant or completely insane. Where Sadie saw nothing but chaos and too many mouths to feed and heads to count, Bucky joked that he'd have almost an entire baseball team and there was safety in numbers - the more they had the more one of them was likely to be a genius or famous to support them in their old age.

"Give it one cute kid and you'll be whistling a different tune," he used to tease playing with her fingers or stroking her hair down her back.

Sadie had no doubt that Bucky was right. She also had no doubt that she would have loved every second of a loud, chaotic house filled with too many mouths to feed and heads to count. She'd always entertained the notion of having children but it never really felt like a possibility until she met Bucky. Falling in love with him allowed her to admit those personal desires that she pushed off because she'd been so afraid of being trapped. The truth was that she wanted to be a mother, she wanted to have Bucky's children and often caught herself wondering if they would have his blue eyes or her grey. And now she knew that had they made it home, no matter how hard they tried, all of their efforts would have ended in bitter, heart-crushing disappointment.

Her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

"It's okay, honestly," she said softly.

That was a bold-faced lie. None of this was okay. She could barely look at Bucky now, unable to stomach the fact that all of the things they'd counted on were just a beautiful fantasy. He wasn't going to be her husband. He wasn't going to be the father of her children. He wasn't her anything anymore and no matter how badly she wanted to change all of that, she was powerless to time and the shitstorm that destroyed everything. Sadie wanted to go to Bucky, she wanted to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his chest but she couldn't. How could she when just being in the same room threatened to kill her where she stood?

At last Sadie was ready to admit what she'd been trying so hard to ignore. She wasn't okay. She hadn't been okay from the second she woke up.

Tears pooled on her lower lashes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. Bucky seemed on the precipice of action. He raised his hand and seemed prepared to take a step but then he hesitated and Sadie's heart shattered. She thought that the worst moment of her life was when she stood in that snowy clearing, ticking off the names of the Commandos in her head only to realize that Bucky wasn't there, that he was never going to come back. Sadie thought there was nothing that could possibly be worse than Bucky dying. But she was wrong. This was worse, she realized, feeling the shoddy seams holding her together split apart. Not having Bucky was infinitely easier than sharing the room with his ghost and with the man he'd become, a man who couldn't even bring himself to hold her when her flimsy house of cards finally toppled down.

Swallowing hard, she looked away from him, towards the hallway that would take her to the safety of her room. That was where she needed to be, where she could throw all of her history books across the room and sob in her shower or scream into her pillow. The breakdown she'd been trying so hard to avoid was upon her now and Sadie was powerless to stop it. And she would be damned before she let Bucky be a witness.

Pushing her trembling fingers into her hair, she started to answer but then stopped herself, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all.

"I really, really don't want to talk about it, Bucky," she said softly, allowing her eyes to meet his once more.

Sadie imagined the hurt that flickered across his features, like a glitch that immediately sorted itself out.

"If you're sure."

There it was, the gulf that separated the Bucky she loved from the Bucky before her. The man he knew would have fought her and for her until his dying breath. He would wipe the tears from her cheeks and wouldn't rest until he found a way to make her smile again, until he was certain she wasn't lying about being fine. But that Bucky was out of his mind in love with her. This Bucky wasn't. And no amount of longing on her part could cajole him into fighting for her, into taking her hands in his and calling her bluff. The worst part of it all was that it wasn't his fault. Sadie couldn't blame him for not reading her mind, for not knowing that what she needed more than anything was just him.

"Yeah." She popped up the handle of her suitcase and picked up her other bag. Bucky rolling over and giving in to her resistance was oddly clarifying. Sadie remembered that for most of her life she'd functioned just fine without him. Even after he died she'd figured out how to get on with her life. She did it once. She could do it again. "I'm sure."

Without another word she turned away from him and walked away. She left her luggage just inside her door and kicked her high heels off with a little too much force, sending both shoes banging into the opposite wall. At last the dam holding back her tears broke. Standing in the middle of her room she was suddenly desperate to get out of her dress. Her fingers shook as she tore at the dresser and then peeled it off, kicking it away so she could look down at her body. Both her hands came to rest over her low abdomen, a flat plane disguising the emptiness that lay beneath. Sliding her palms across her stomach, she wrapped her arms around herself and let herself cry freely in a way she hadn't in so long.

Once, Sadie asked Bucky how much one person could endure before they broke. She'd fancied herself strong. Sadie Steel was her nickname in Japan but she wasn't steel, she was tissue paper, torn straight down the middle. Each crisis she'd endured she could handle apart but everything compounded together and the discovery that she'd been betrayed by her own body was the final straw. Sadie collapsed on her bed, dragging herself up towards her headboard where she buried her face in her pillow. It was all too much for one tiny, insignificant speck of a human being to bear.

Sadie cried for so many things. She cried for the dozens of people she loved, long dead and for all of the weddings and children and funerals she missed. She cried for her lost decades, for the life she deserved to have and all of the milestones she would never achieve. Each reason piled higher and higher as she sobbed over Bucky, over their lost love and the diminished hopes of reconciliation. She cried over the dreams she'd had of a happy marriage, a fulfilling career, and a house full of shining little faces. And she sobbed over the discovery that even if everything had gone her way, she still wouldn't have had everything she wanted. She still would have faced the wild desperation of wanting and bitter disappointment of having empty arms.

She cried and she cried until exhaustion finally won out and she fell into fitful sleep.

Sadie had no idea that Bucky sat outside of her door long after she fell asleep, listening to her breakdown and hating himself for lacking the courage to pull her into his arms, the one place he was almost certain she truly belonged.

A/N: Okay. Here's the deal. I have known since midway through Songbirds that Sadie can't have kids. Infertility is a very real, common, incredibly painful, and serious subject. I don't make character decisions like this lightly. Before you leave a review I would simply ask that you be aware that there may be people seeing those reviews that are affected by fertility issues and be kind, not for me, but for them.

That being said - I've finally pushed poor Sadie to her breaking point and if you think all of this is about to come to a head? Well...just know that I am cackling behind my screen as I work on chapter 14.

Liked it? Loved it? Think that we all need a story of the adventures of Doctor Victoria Holmes? Let me know what you think! Much love - Kappa.