Chapter Twenty-Six
"They tell you that they'll never tell you a lie
Put you in a spell to get you on their side
They're trying to hide, but they're crossing the line
And it's bad behavior."
—"People Are Strangers," Zella Day
"He's… he's gone too."
The ocean roared in Lina's ears as she remembered Steve's words. Shaking her head, she continued jogging down the beach, pushing even harder like the faster pace could somehow drown out her memories. If she just ran far enough, pushed herself hard enough she might be able to outrun the emptiness that threatened to pull her under. Despite nearly two years passing, memories of James Buchanan Barnes and his second disappearance had the power to reduce her to tears.
It was a beautiful morning in California, cool and crisp from the ocean breeze while the sun shined down on her now-tan skin. She'd relocated for work, her time with Stark Industries proving lucrative enough to afford a modern one-bedroom rental with an easy commute to both work and her favorite weekend jogging path along the beach. Lina felt some disgust with herself for picking up the long-detested habit, but Pepper had insisted she join the redhead on her morning runs—likely in an attempt to pull Lina from her depression. It had stuck in the months since.
Winded and tired, Lina took a swig of water and folded in the sand to watch the morning dawn over the waves. As she sat, her thoughts turned back to Steve and the less-than-graceful way she'd handled the conversation. She winced as the memory washed over her.
"What do you mean 'he's gone?'" she'd bitten out, hands trembling violently at her sides. She could swear she'd heard a glass shatter somewhere. "Gone as in 'poof! he disappeared' or gone as in 'he's dead and never coming back?'"
Steve's tired face fell even further, eyes darkening as he avoided her gaze. "He saw the fight through and made it out, but… Well, when we landed and went to rendezvous, he left."
She barked out a harsh laugh that didn't even sound like her. "He left. No explanation, no goodbye?"
"Lina, I know this is hard—" He winced when she smacked away the hand he'd reached toward her.
"Did you know he was going to do this?" she pressed. Her voice bordered on hysterical as she tried desperately to hold on. Her world was spinning again, spiraling out of control and it was all because of James. He'd left again, and she was left behind to pick up the pieces. Again.
Steve was quiet for too long, his lips pressing together like he was biting something back. A boulder dropped in her stomach when she saw his expression, the realization washing over her like an icy bath.
"You knew," she breathed, eyes wide as she stared at him. "What the fuck, Steve?"
"Look, he didn't make the decision lightly—"
"He's gone for a few days, preoccupied with fighting against the end of the world, and somehow finds the time to decide to run away again. Tell me how he came to that decision. Where, in all your flying around the world, did he make that choice?"
She didn't look away from Steve as he worked his jaw. She couldn't. He knew something—had an answer that she needed—and Lina would be damned if she didn't get closure this time. James had disappeared again, who knows for how long. He'd taken her heart and left it to shatter a few short moments ago, this time at the hands of his best friend. The only thing keeping Lina from feeling the full weight of the hurt was her disbelief and anger. Unwilling to give in and feel that pain just yet, she pulled her rage out and cloaked herself with it.
"Tell me, Steve. How the hell did he decide to do this? How cou—" She swallowed down the question clawing its way up her throat.
"He made the decision at Clint's farm, after facing Ultron in South Africa," Steve bit out, running a hand over his haggard face. "It wasn't easy, you have to know that. Bucky felt it was the right thing to do—the only thing, really. He realized that no one was safe with him around—that you weren't safe."
"That's such a line, Steve. I asked for an explanation, not an excuse."
He straightened then, his brow furrowed regretfully. "Lina, I'm sorry, but he swore me to secrecy."
She choked out a tearful laugh. "Wonderful! Just perfect."
A particularly sharp gull cry broke her out of the trance and Lina stood, brushing sand off as she started moving again. It had been almost two years of silence, wondering where he was, how he was doing, and chastising herself for it every time. It was a cycle she couldn't seem to break no matter how desperately she tried. The 'why' ultimately didn't matter, she reminded herself. He was gone and she'd been left behind to pick herself up once more. All the reasoning in the world couldn't change that fact. Lina had no choice but to accept reality and move on with her life.
On paper, it looked like that's exactly what she did. She'd moved out of the tower shortly after the blow up at Steve before moving herself and Ziggy to L.A. They had meeting after meeting with foreign deals teams, and Lina's desk was never clear of files to be translated or schedules to coordinate. She'd even taken over arranging some charity functions with international organizations, her ability to speak fluently with the vendors making it easier for her to handle than others in Pepper's office. The busy office kept her occupied while the runs she'd adopted from Pepper left her so tired that she often collapsed into dreamless sleep each night. It was a welcome change from the nightmares she'd gotten so used to. Her days were full, and the nights were a wash. It was the perfect balance.
Except when it wasn't.
None of the work, exercising, socializing, or sleeping could change the fact that she still felt numb. She'd told someone that she loved him, put all her trust in him, allowed herself to feel and open herself up again—and it had been worthless. None of that even warranted a 'goodbye.' James had his demons, but she'd thought they were working through them. She'd thought there was progress. Lina had allowed herself to hope for a future.
Maybe it was too much pressure. That was the thought she kept coming back to in those moments where her mind wandered. Maybe she'd wanted too much, expected too much. Maybe the weight of those hopes had chafed at him, left him floundering and unable to say the words aloud.
Maybe she was why he'd left.
'Maybe, maybe, maybe.' She picked up a broken shell and hurled it into the sparkling waves, the thunderhead growing on her face as she continued along the shore. "Fuck maybe."
"Talking to yourself is never a good sign."
Lina froze at the voice, every muscle quivering with fear. She turned slowly to find Eric Williams standing behind her. A scream threatened to force its way out of her, but Lina swallowed it ruthlessly down. It wouldn't do any good—despite being in public, she knew he would be able to dispatch her with a few quick moves before vanishing for good.
He smirked at her clenched jaw and stalked closer. "Tan looks good on you, but the dark hair is even better."
His warm breath ghosted over the shell of her ear, making Lina flinch away. "What do you want from me?"
"Is that any way to greet an old friend? I know Eileen raised you better than that," he sing-songed, closing the distance between them again. She matched each step he took with another step backwards and he chuckled. "Know where Barnes is?"
"No, asshole. Is that clear enough for you?" she bit out, heart pounding like a sledgehammer against her ribs.
"I liked the blue panties you wore last night." The cold glint in his eyes was enough to send her stomach spiraling in a fit of nausea. "How's that for clear?"
"Why are you so freaking obsessed with me? I go to work and then go home alone. If he were going to show, it would have happened ages ago and you'd be long dead," Lina argued.
Some distant part of her brain screamed for her to shut up, but it was like someone else was in the driver's seat. Someone who was tired of running, of being afraid all the time. She was angry and hurt and alone. Now this guy came along thinking she had anything left to be scared of? It was almost laughable. She scrubbed her sweaty palms on her leggings, regretting the decision to leave her taser at home today.
"Either you're the stupidest recon guy alive, or the laziest," she continued, unable to stop herself. "I don't really care which, but you need to find a new lead."
He laughed then, cold and cruel. "I've found new employment, sweetheart. Give your mommy and daddy a call—I'm done with you."
"Then why are you here?" she asked, strangling the flutter of hope that rose within her.
"For old times' sake." Dark eyes locked on the little white scar on her throat and he grinned. "I also wanted to give you a parting gift, something to remember me by."
"Get bent, Williams." Lina turned to run, more than ready to put as much distance between them as she physically could.
A cold, hard hand on her arm halted her escape. Prosthetic fingers gripped so tightly she knew there would be a bruise. "That's rude, sweetheart. You didn't even get your present yet."
"Like I want anything from you," she bristled, tugging and testing his hold. It didn't budge.
With his free hand, he reached into the duffel bag at his side. Lina's stomach churned as he rifled around. He could be searching for anything, a weapon, zip ties, duct tape, and she was still caught like an animal with its leg in a trap. All she could do was watch. When he withdrew, it was with a manila file clutched in his hand.
Lina blinked, relief warring with alertness still coursing through her body. "What is it?"
"Information."
"Fine, let me go and hand it over."
He tutted disdainfully, squeezing his fingers tighter on her arm. "You need to say 'please'—the way you would when you begged Barnes to screw your brains out."
She reared back and kneed him in the family jewels before she even registered the thought. His hold slackened enough that she broke away and ran for her life, but not before snatching the file from him. The soft sand sucked at her feet, slowing her down. Desperate to escape, to leave the psycho in the dust, Lina pushed herself harder than ever. She ran through a crowd of beachgoers, ignoring their indignant cries, and pounded up the stairs that put her on the seawall.
Cars rumbled by and a thumping bass rattled her bones. It couldn't drown out her hammering heart. She looked back for Williams, for any sign that she was being pursued, but saw nothing. Regardless, she ran down the busiest block, hoping that at least one security camera would pick her up in case he caught up to her again.
She caught a cab to her neighborhood, certain to pay with a credit card she'd tucked in her phone case, and called Natasha on the way.
"Nat," she said as soon as the redhead answered. "It's Eric Williams."
"Tell me everything."
Lina spilled the details of the encounter, head constantly scanning and checking the cab's mirrors as they drove. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, hunted. It may have been her own paranoia, but it wasn't baseless. The man had apparently been watching her closely enough to know the color of her underwear, just waiting for her ex to resurface. The traffic slowed everything down to a crawl. Anxious fingers checked that both doors were locked, not that she expected it to do much good against a Hydra goon.
"Let me look into his claims." Lina heard furious texting when the redhead paused, and all she could do was wait. "I've got Hill and Carter working on that. Do you have your taser on you?"
"No, I was just on a jog," she admitted, just knowing she was in for a lecture. The silence dragged on for a beat too long and Lina could practically hear Natasha's lips pursing in disapproval.
"You know you fucked up, so that's all I'll say about it. Do you know where your gun is?"
Lina nodded. "Yeah."
"Get to it immediately when you get home. Keep it on you all the time, just don't make it obvious. I'm talking loose clothes, newspapers—you know, the old school spy crap the movies have ruined," Nat instructed, her voice clipped and matter of fact as she coached the younger woman through it. "Have a couple of those possible spots around you at all times. Keep your phone charged and tasers close too. Did Tony set you up with Friday?"
"Yeah, Pepper and Happy insisted on it." She was suddenly eternally grateful for the overprotective lot she'd somehow landed among.
"Set her on alert—be ready to go with a call to Happy and the police in that order if anyone so much as breathes toward your door." More fast, decisive typing sounded over the line. "Lina, his story checks out. Williams is no longer receiving transfers from any known Hydra accounts. They're pretty officially dead. Carter even found a plane ticket under one of his aliases leaving for Indonesia tonight. I'd still wait a few days before contacting anyone. Let us keep tabs on him and make sure you're in the clear."
"Okay. Thank you, Nat, for everything." Lina tugged on her ponytail, still scanning about warily. "I seriously owe you."
"Just make me some cookies next time I'm in L.A.," she said with an amused huff. "And Lina? If Williams shows up, don't think twice about pulling the trigger."
With that, the line went dead and Lina was left alone all over again. The loneliness settled over her shoulders, heavy and gray. She was going home to a ten-pound cat and an AI to watch her back. No sea of friends to fall back on or distract her from the melancholy. She'd made the choice to leave that all behind. Now she had to grow up and deal with it.
The file stared at her from its place beside her on the worn and beaten backseat. It was innocuous enough, but a nagging alarm at the back of her head warned her away from it. She wasn't sure she could handle any more surprises today. At least, not before a long shower and a stiff drink.
Thankfully, the ride back to her little townhouse was uneventful and nothing seemed out of place when she arrived. After bolting the door and covering the windows, Lina made sure to set Friday on alert and secure her gun before getting into the shower. She even had the AI alert Pepper that she'd be working from home tomorrow.
Hot water pounded down on her, relaxing the aching muscles and coaxing the knots from her back. It had been a trying morning. Despite the tendrils of steam inviting her to drop her guard, Lina couldn't bring herself to do so. She didn't want to lapse back into a shaking, teary, pathetic mess. She was tired of crying.
She remembered that first day and the soul-shredding pain of knowing that nothing she'd said or done had mattered—it was so easy for James to abandon her again despite all his talk and promises. Despite her loving him. She'd curled up in her room, the same one they'd shared at the end, and prayed for blessed numbness to fall over her. Everything hurt, deep and visceral and cutting, like she was an exposed nerve.
Wanda had found her that way, a swollen, tear-stained, snotty mess. The young woman had rapped quietly at the door before poking her head in. Dark, red rimmed eyes winced at the sight of the blonde, though she held a cup of steaming tea up in explanation.
"I could hear you through the door and… well, my mother always made tea when we were hurting," she explained in that soft accent of hers. "Tea and American sitcoms."
"Thank you," Lina croaked, wiping roughly at her cheeks. She accepted the steaming mug with a tremulous smile. "Sorry for this—it's not exactly the best first impression."
"You are hurting," Wanda said softly. Her fingers twitched around her own mug before she continued. "I-I can feel your pain. It's like mine."
"Like someone ripped your heart out?"
The younger woman nodded, lips downturned and eyes dark with the weight of her emotions. "Captain Rogers did not give you answers, but I think you need them."
Lina frowned as she blew on her tea, the scent of hot lavender and honey tickling her nose. "What do you—"
"I felt my brother die. We're twins," Wanda murmured, gaze wandering to the large windows lining the wall. "When he—it feels like a part of me died."
"I'm so sorry," Lina replied softly. She watched the utter misery weigh down the younger woman.
A heavy quiet stretched between them, both lost in thought of the ones they'd lost. Lina stared unseeing at the closet door, her heart aching with the disappearance of the man she loved. She knew there was a reason. She'd gathered that much when Steve stayed tightlipped about it, only telling her it wasn't his place before she glowered and stormed away. Of course it wasn't his place—James should have talked to her about this, but it was too late now. The choice had been made.
"It—I met Sergeant Barnes in South Africa," Wanda started. She was still staring out the window and her voice was as distant as her gaze. "Pietro and I thought we were doing the right thing by helping Ultron. It was a mistake."
Lina fought to keep her face smooth and free of a reaction, but it was hard to pretend a poise she didn't feel. Not when the rogue AI had turned everything around her into a warzone.
"I was supposed to use my abilities to find each Avenger's weakness—you were his. One of them, at any rate." Wanda turned to slowly meet Lina's eyes then, her every line wrought with regret. "It would be easier to show you. May I?"
A soft red light appeared at her fingertips, glowing and curling about her hands like smoke in a breeze. Lina's heart skipped a few beats before skittering to a gallop. She was so close to answers, to understanding that it had her hands itching. With a quick scrub of her palms down the worn sweatpants, she nodded her assent to whatever the young Sokovian was going to do.
"It may be uncomfortable…" Wanda hedged, raising her still-glowing hands to hover over the blonde's temples.
It started like an itch in the back of her mind, twisting and niggling like a dream on the verge of evaporating before all Lina could see was red. It took her breath away and, before she could blink, the scene cleared. Only she wasn't in her room anymore.
Smoke and laughter surrounded her, smiling GIs raising glasses and playing jaunty music on the upright piano in a crowded pub. Women with perfectly coiffed hair and meticulously painted scarlet lips flirted back with the soldiers, skirts swishing about their stocking-clad legs. She marveled at the scene, a direct line to a world seventy years in the past. The roaring whirl of the crowd parted then, revealing the dancefloor where couples moved together. It was that moment that she heard a familiar laugh, bright and untarnished by the weight of his past.
James was right beside her.
It was a punch to the gut. Lina's breath rushed from her lungs, leaving her aching and desperate to touch him. Except this wasn't her James. No, his hair was short and neatly combed under his dress greens, and he was smiling at someone she couldn't see. His baby blue gaze was locked on the dancefloor, the music changing to something mournful and slow.
A man's voice echoed over the scene, then, lilting Russian faintly registering in the back of her head. "Longing."
Wrenching her eyes away from James, Lina followed the path of his stare to be met with another surprise. She saw herself on the dancefloor, honey curls shining and tamed into one of those iconic coifs and a red dress making her stand out in the sea of olive and war drab colors. James surged forward, his gaze never leaving the vision of her, carving a path through the crowd.
The dancers ebbed and flowed as she drifted closer, following on James's heels. The music sounded distant, like she was hearing it from underwater, and the lights grew dim. The revelers didn't seem bothered by it. No, they continued dancing and drinking and singing merrily as she watched her lover stand in the spot where he'd last seen her.
"Rusted. Seventeen," that same voice echoed through the pub. No one reacted to it except James, a frown blossoming over his face as he cast about for his missing sweetheart.
When he spied her again on the far side of the room, he was off like a shot. The crowd refused to move, this time, forcing him to duck and weave his way through in his quest to find the blonde in the red dress. Lina passed through them all, heart racing with anxiety for her lover—ex-lover now, she distantly supposed. He was agitatedly dodging the revelers to reach her. The mounting frustration furrowing his brow had her itching to reach out and smooth it away. She even tried lifting her arm to do so, but it was pointless—she was powerless to do anything but follow and watch.
"Daybreak. Furnace."
The words made no sense. It was complete gibberish echoing about her and setting the scene to shaking with each rolling word. But it meant something to James. He was in a veritable panic now as the words came faster.
"Nine. Benign."
He cursed, whole body tightening when he reached the spot where she'd stood only to be too late. His words made no sound, though she didn't think it was important to know what he said. A shift in the dancers, the sudden press of their bodies as they moved back before vanishing altogether, drew both of their attention. The room was thrown into shadow then, except for a lone spot in the middle of the dancefloor. Piano music, moody and slow and distorted, still played somewhere in the distance.
"Homecoming."
James froze at the scene, his jaw tensing and fists clenching at the sight of his quarry dancing in the arms of someone else. Her partner was cast in shadow, but she clung to him, head tucked against his chest and arms wrapped about his neck. The pair moved like lovers, in sync and intimate through each swaying step. He barreled forward to claim his girl, stepping into the sole pool of light only to stop short.
"One."
They turned as the music stopped, and she saw what had stopped him. Vision-Lina fell to the floor before James, limp and lifeless. Hazel eyes stared unseeing as he crumpled beside her, drawing her pallid body into his arms.
Heavy footsteps echoed, one-two, on the hardwood floor of the pub, drawing James's attention away from the lifeless corpse of his lover. Long, lank hair framed his face and the metal arm glinted dully in the spotlight, the red star menacing in the empty pub. A blade hung from those vibranium fingers, scarlet blood dripping to the floor below.
James stared down the Winter Soldier over her body, rage-filled blue meeting the icy expanse of nothing.
"Freight car."
With that, the vision dissolved into a sea of red. The next thing Lina knew, she was back in her own body with cooling tea clasped between frozen fingers. Wanda removed her hands with a sigh, retreating to sit beside the other woman and unable to meet her gaze.
A ringing silence stretched between them as Lina processed what she'd just seen. This vision was what he'd buried within himself, his deepest fear realized and made to play out before his eyes. This vision was the reason he'd abandoned her again. But what did it mean? She figured the part about her dying at the hands of the Winter Soldier was self-explanatory, but he'd made so much progress in overcoming that. It was really the Russian words that had her puzzled. The words echoing over the scene meant nothing to her, just a string of nonsense words with no discernable message behind them. But they meant something to James. He'd grown increasingly agitated throughout the scene as the words were uttered. Those words were enough to undo the months of work he'd put in, to completely derail the months of progress and investment in their blossoming relationship. And she couldn't find a good explanation for them to save her life.
Even now, replaying the scene for the umpteenth time, Lina was no closer to deciphering the hidden meaning. It was something that only James—and, if she were honest with herself, Steve—understood.
She shook her head before rising to check that all doors and windows were locked. So shaken was she that Lina even asked Friday to assure her that the little townhouse was secure. The crisp, Irish voice did exactly that. A glance at Ziggy, curled up in an absurd way that only a cat would enjoy, had a ghost of a smile flitting over her lips. Still, despite her faithful companion, Lina had never felt more alone.
It was that exact moment, poised on the edge of falling into despair and self-pity, that Lina's phone screen lit up with a text.
'Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you in the office today,' it read, followed by a crying emoji.
She couldn't help the grin that such a simple sentiment tugged out of her. Patrick, a friend at work, never failed to brighten her day. He was a hopeless flirt, something she'd called him on within their first hour of working together. That he'd easily laughed and lobbed a joke her way had won her over. It was easy and simple, something that served to make her feel better about herself in a time when she'd been filled with doubts. Lina was grateful to him for reminding her that she was still a young woman with a life to lead and options she hadn't even dreamed of, even if she wasn't interested in more than his friendship.
Shaking herself out of thought, her thumbs flew over her phone screen as she responded. 'Was it me you missed, or the magic coffee?'
His response was almost immediate. 'Okay, but hOW IS IT SO GOOD?! I've tried everything to make it make sense, but nothing adds up.'
That had her laughing out loud, texts flying quickly as he lifted her mood with all the ease of a strongman. When the pair had first met, Lina couldn't shake the uneasiness—was he another Hydra plant meant to get close to her and use her to hurt James or Steve or any multitude of people she loved? Was he using her to get in with the Avengers? But a thorough background check, all verified by Friday, reassured her that he simply was that charming and genuinely warm.
'You officially owe me,'he wrote with a winking face tacked on for good measure.
'Yeah, yeah, I'll make it up to you before I leave.' She sent a string of coffee emojis and a drooling face with an amused huff.
'Right! Paris soon—when do you leave? Any chance you'll bring me extra magic coffee before then?'
'Three days,' she replied, 'and nope! You're just going to have to suffer through with the office Keurigs like the rest of the masses.'
'Liiiiiiiinaaaa,' he wheedled. She could practically hear his pleading tone and laughing brown eyes sparkling her way. 'You're a cruel woman. Would you really leave me for a week without the magic?'
'I will, and I can.' Lina settled into the plush sofa with a secret smile at her phone as she let the promise hang. There was just something fun about flirting like this—meaningless, platonic, mutually amusing and unattached—that she'd missed. It wasn't loaded with entendre or laden with yearning and the promise of heartbreak. 'If I told you the secret ingredients, you wouldn't need me anymore and I'm too selfish for that.'
She threw on a laughing-crying emoji for good measure and sent it off without a second thought. They passed another few minutes going back and forth like that, the simple normalcy of the conversation easing the rest of her frayed nerves. It was such an ordinary interaction. There were no superheroes or super-threats, no life-or-death stakes, no world-threatening villains—it was so blessedly normal that she felt her heart twisting. Was normal really something she wanted? After a taste of extraordinary, was normal ever going to be enough?
Lina didn't know, but it was what she needed right then.
They continued texting for the rest of the evening, quickly getting lost in ridiculous critiques of the competitors on the newest season of some English baking competition and idle office gossip. She let herself go in the inane chatter. It was a balm to her frayed nerves and jagged edges of her heart. After the abrupt end to their romance almost two years prior, Lina had cried over James and clung to the hope of Sam finding him. It never came to fruition, and she was forced to let go. There was little option left aside from lingering in limbo. Never one to sit idle, Lina had quickly decided against that and began the arduous process of moving on with her life.
Patrick was a part of that. There was no romance between them—he had a taste for aspiring actresses, and she was still too skittish of relationships to want more than friendship—and that suited them both. Instead, they worked well together at Stark Industries and alternated bringing in coffee and breakfast for one another. He enjoyed unloading the drama involved with dating actresses on her and Lina happily listened without ever sharing her own relationship woes.
It was uncomplicated, and she liked it that way.
She lost herself in the uncomplicated conversation and uncomplicated competition on television, giving Ziggy a few scratches and pets to the calico's delight. Her concealed handgun and innocuous manila file were all but forgotten for the night.
Three days later, Lina handed over the spare keys to her cat-sitter and rushed out the door with her luggage. She was lucky to be flying to Paris on a private jet with a few other Stark Industries representatives—all fluent in French and all but Lina deeply involved in either party planning or nonprofit work. She was going as Pepper's stand-in, the CEO unable to attend due to her busy schedule but unwilling to cancel the event meant to raise money for the rebuilding of Sokovia after Ultron had destroyed it. It had been nearly two years, and Pepper wanted to make a good faith showing of the company's investment in its future. Lina wasn't entirely sure why she'd been sent in the redhead's place, but it was a paid trip to Paris. Patrick had been the first person to remind her that she'd be an idiot to complain.
They'd been in the air for an hour, and she'd been left blessedly alone. The others on the trip huddled together at the front of the plane, heads close as they murmured about the party plans and whatever last-minute changes went into something of this scale.
Lina was content to sit towards the back, headphones in and bobbing her head along to her 90s alt rock playlist while going over her own work. She rifled through her briefcase, hand freezing when she came across the file Eric Williams had gifted her.
She stole a glance up towards her coworkers, none of whom paid her any mind, before pulling it free. Her hands trembled as she took in the black Hydra logo stamped in the middle of the folder. Someone had neatly labeled it "The Tinker," which meant nothing to her. Lina searched her memory for any mention of someone with that alias, vaguely recalling his own connection to Eric Williams—the creator of his prosthetic limb and the scythe attachment—but little else.
Why did he want her to have this? The man couldn't be so deluded as to think she cared enough about him to want to know more about the Hydra agent that gave him the weaponized attachment. With a deep breath, Lina steeled herself to dive into the file and find whatever answers—or, more likely, questions—awaited her within.
She flipped it open and was immediately arrested by an older photo of a very familiar face. With trembling fingers, she slid it free of the paperclip holding it in place at the top of several typewritten documents. If she hadn't seen that face every day for years, she wouldn't believe it. The man in the photograph was younger than she recalled ever seeing him, but the pictures that she'd spent hours poring over held that same face with a dimpled chin and distinguished brows—a face she loved.
Bile roiled in her stomach as she held the photograph in numb fingers. Her gaze moved mechanically to read the top sheet summarizing this agent's activities for the accursed organization. Soviet-era politics, ground-breaking prosthetic technology, human experimentation—it was all there. It was with a sickening clarity that she realized exactly why Eric Williams had given this to her, complete with photographic evidence.
It was this that sent her over the ledge and running for the bathroom on shaky legs. What little she'd eaten came up in great heaving gasps and sputters, the bile burning her throat a distant pain to the maelstrom roaring through her mind.
The man whose work gave Eric Williams the scythe that had very nearly killed her was the same man who attached the metal arm to the Winter Soldier. It was the same technology, the same advanced prosthetics that allowed the arm and fingers to move so organically. That man had created two of the most prolific assassins of the century.
With an untold death toll to his name, that man had defected to the United States and created a peaceful life with a wife, children, and grandchildren that were convinced he could do no wrong. He'd built a life for himself free of death and weaponized limbs, found a job at NASA creating machines that moved with the same dexterity of human hands. He volunteered his talents to organizations that provided children and underprivileged amputees with impossibly lifelike prosthetics that allowed them to live normal lives. He lived like he hadn't directly contributed to unsolved murders around the world.
He was her father.
A/N: Hi, so I'm back! Between major mental health issues this year (thanks, global pandemic, living in an epicenter, and soul-sucking old job), major changes (new apartment, new job), and generally dealing with the same issues everyone else is facing, I finally cranked this out. It's not a long update, but it's definitely action-packed. I've started writing the next chapter in my work notepad and even bought a few new, special notebooks that will be used just for writing! I'm hoping to get that knocked out soon and will post it as soon as I'm able.
Also, I'm officially on tumblr now as Galasriniel817 so feel free to follow, ask questions, and share thoughts, opinions, etc. there! I post links to updates, story playlists, and random bits of inspiration.
Thanks, as always, to the lovely Karen, my Kahuna and best friend, for letting me talk about story ideas, brainstorm, plot, encouragement, and reading this over a couple of time with each change and update!