Chapter Three: Not So Good News
Rebecca woke up lying on her stomach crossways on her full-size bed, still in the jeans and t-shirt, she'd worn the night before. She'd hadn't made it under the covers. There was a dull ache behind her eyes, a reminder of all the alcohol she'd consumed the night before and the crusty feeling on her lids was evidence she hadn't washed the makeup off her face either.
She pushed up off her bed and stumbled her way into the adjoining bathroom, turning her shower on to her preferred temperature setting before turning to brush her teeth while the water warmed up. She went through the rest of her morning routine as if it were any other day, only swallowing two aspirin to thwart the headache.
Freshly scrubbed and in clean jeans and a red tank top, she headed out towards the living area. She paused once she left her room, chuckling softly in amusement when she saw Sam passed out snoring loudly on her couch, his frame a bit too long for the furniture so his legs draped off the end of it. She entertained the idea of snapping a photo on her phone for future teasing evidence then changed her mind and continued toward the kitchen. Sam had way more than she had last night and no doubt would have a stronger hangover, a big greasy breakfast was in order.
The smell of coffee reached her first and she was startled to find Steve in her small kitchen, pulling three ceramic mugs out of one of her cabinets. On the counter beside her coffee maker was a grease-stained paper bag with the Deli down the block's logo stamped across the front.
"Someone got an early start," She commented, giving him a rueful smile when he looked over at her. "Thanks for babysitting last night."
"You didn't need a babysitter," Steve passed her a mug. "In fact, you were the one who insisted we all crash here since Sam was the one who overindulged."
She had a vague recollection of Sam flopping face first on her couch last night and promptly snoring. She laughed and said, "Please tell me you took the spare room and not the floor?"
"I would have been fine with the floor," He told her. "But you ordered me to the spare room before you went to your own and I figured it was best not to argue with you."
"Smart man." Rebecca chuckled and began fixing her coffee how she liked it. Steve did the same beside her and for a moment there was a comfortable silence between them.
"I picked up sandwiches at the deli, figured neither of you would feel up for doing much. Though you seem to be doing okay." Steve commented after taking a long sip of coffee.
"I cut myself off after a certain point. I don't mind a buzz but," She shrugged, knowing if anyone was going to understand her reasoning it would be the man before her. "I don't like the feeling of being out of control, especially not of my own actions. I need to be coherent. Maybe that's the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in me but,"
"I get it." He assured her. "Can't protect yourself if you're too drunk to even stand up properly."
"Exactly." She opened the deli bag and grinned. "Bacon, egg, and cheese huh? You're pretty close to perfect, Rogers."
Clint Barton's skill set had never really extended to the technology department. He had the basics down, a requirement of any Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. but he'd leave the Advanced stuff to guys like Tony and even to an extent, Natasha. Clint was a Marksman, he preferred being in the thick of things and this lull in the hunt for Loki's missing scepter was aggravating for him. Stark and Banner were taking point at the moment, trying to find their next move. And unlike Steve, who could jet to D.C. and check in on more personal matters, Clint was left in Stark Tower twiddling his thumbs.
He'd been relieved when the encrypted message from Hill had come in, then grateful when Tony's technology had made the decryption process twice if not three times as fast as it would have taken him on his own.
Barton,
Disturbing news from Ireland. Must get a message to Rebecca Callahan. Declan O'Riley has escaped custody and is in the wind. Every reason to believe Callahan is a target. Warn her.
Maria Hill
"Well shit." Barton cursed out loud as he read the message. He'd been there nearly a decade ago when S.H.I.E.L.D. had stormed the O'Riley compound, apprehending highly ranked members of the IRA. He'd been pretty fresh out of the Academy himself, and had joined Fury on that mission, happy to assist in putting those men in cuffs; men who had the blood of so many on their hands.
He remembered seeing Rebecca for the first time, pale and slight, but green eyes defiant as she confirmed to her father that she was the reason he was going down. She had betrayed him and made sure he couldn't ever hurt anyone ever again and Clint had felt nothing but admiration for the brave teen who had lost everything that day.
She'd gone on to be one of the better Agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd come across many of her mission reports and been impressed by her work. She'd been a great profiler, adequate tracker and more than capable in combat situations. He remembered emailing her when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and suggesting she become a P.I. when he knew other government agencies would shun her due to her family connections.
And now the old man was free, and Clint had no doubt there would be revenge on his mind. With a grunt, Clint rose from the computer chair, grabbed his go bag and headed for the garage.
"Jarvis?" He called to the A.I. who ran point over Stark Tower.
"Yes, Agent Barton?" The computerized British accent always threw him a little when it spoke to him.
"Inform the others I'm taking a day trip to D.C. There's something I gotta do for Fury." Clint entered the elevator and hit the button for the lower levels containing the garage.
"Of course, Agent Barton."
Pete Wisdom left the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in a foul mood spurred on by his craving for a cigarette. He'd forgotten how uptight Americans were about smoking. Oh, they'd stuff themselves with greasy fried foods, pesticides, and other chemical preservatives. But smoking cigarettes? Big taboo.
"Wankers." He muttered under his breath, pulling out his crumpled, preferred pack of Embassy's and lit up. When the nicotine hit his system he felt his mood improving as he took in his surroundings.
D.C. was an active city during the day. Like New York, everyone had a destination and was determined to get to it. The tourists were more easy to spot because they didn't fall into the rapid-fire pace. They lingered at restaurants and monuments, while the locals barely took a pause in getting from point A to point B.
He'd have to find a crappy motel somewhere, so he'd have a place to crash for a couple of days. He'd surveil his mark, learn her routine and habits, then make his plan. He'd have to do it quietly and quickly, be back on a flight to London before his presence in the city was discovered. In studying her file he knew she had formidable allies and he did not want to pop up on their radar.
No one who worked for any government agency truly believed S.H.I.E.L.D. was dead.
When Sam finally awoke from his drunken sleep and got through the worst of the hangover with aspirin, coffee, and greasy food, he and Steve left Rebecca to her own devices while they headed back to his place. Since Rebecca hadn't suffered from her alcohol intake as much as Sam had, she headed out for work instead. There were a couple suspected cheating husbands close by she could follow and hopefully she could catch them red-handed, close those cases and get paid.
When she caught one on camera headed into a hotel with his tongue down his secretary's throat, she was both disgusted at the man's behavior but pleased she could call it a day on that particular case. The other two she'd checked out into the afternoon hours had finished their business days and gone home, she was happy to note.
She swung by her office to back up the photos on the computer she kept there, left herself a note to call her client in the morning and headed home. She was debating texting Sam to see if he and Steve wanted dinner when she noticed her apartment door was unlocked.
Instantly on alert, she tucked her phone back into her pocket, making sure her ringer was off and silently set her briefcase down by the door. She removed her favored Beretta from the holster at her hip, it's weight comfortable in her hands and nudged the door open, easing into the apartment.
"You're out of milk."
Rebecca lowered the gun and sighed when she recognized Clint Barton sitting on her couch. "Way to give a girl a heart attack."
"I was making sure you hadn't gone soft since becoming a P.I. and all." Clint shrugged, not a trace of regret on his face. She was still too much of a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent to even be annoyed at his deliberate test.
"Becoming a P.I. was your suggestion." She reminded him, holstering her weapon and reaching back out into the hall to grab her bag. "If you're looking for Cap, he's with Sam."
"I'm not here for him." Hawkeye rose to his feet, setting down the glass he'd been using. "I'm here to see you."
"Me?" She blinked in surprise. "For what? Assessing the contents of my fridge?"
He smirked a little at her joke, then shook his head, his expression turning grim. "I got an encrypted message from Agent Hill this morning, Kid, you might want to sit down for this."
Rebecca felt the shift in his mood like someone would feel a change in the weather. It was like the air became thicker, compressing the room into something smaller. This must be something big, and something bad if he'd come all the way here to see her and it was coming directly from Hill, which meant it was an order from Nick Fury.
Wordlessly, she dropped into the second-hand lazy boy chair that was adjacent to her couch and looked up at Hawkeye, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.
"I had Nat do some research during my ride here cause I knew you'd want answers," Clint also sat back down, looking her directly in the eye. "A few weeks ago, the CIA decided Declan O'Riley was no longer a valuable source of information and ordered his removal from Bright Light."
Rebecca sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of her father's name. Already, her stomach began to fill with dread.
"He was supposed to be remanded to Portlaoise Prison." Clint named the only maximum-security prison in Ireland, which subsequently housed a large number of convicted IRA members. "Somehow word got out he was being moved and the IRA knew of it. They seized his transport two days ago and killed the guards accompanying him. He's in the wind, Beck."
Rebecca felt simultaneously hot and cold; like her temperature had gone up with a fever but also like someone had run ice cubes over her skin. The sensation lasted for a long moment, and internally she screamed in rage before the numbness set in. It never boded well to get emotional about her father, he was best dealt with cold detachment.
"My father is free? And back with the IRA?" Though she knew Clint was telling the truth, she asked for clarification anyway. Hoping against hope that maybe she had misheard him.
Those hopes were dashed when he nodded grimly. "I'm sorry, Kid. I know this isn't what you want to hear but I needed to tell you because-"
"He's going to come after me." She finished his sentence for him. "Wouldn't be the first time. Though it'll be easier for him now than it had been when he was imprisoned. He has all his IRA resources at his fingertips again."
"We're going to find him. He's on borrowed time. You know Fury won't just let him go." Clint tilted his head thoughtfully. "Not that I don't think you can take care of yourself, but if you wanted, I'm sure we could make room for you at Stark Tower until he's captured."
Rebecca immediately dismissed his offer, despite the thoughtfulness of it. "I've never run from him before. I'm not going to start now." She shook her head. "He needs to be caught, and fast. I'm not the only one in danger if he's free."
"We'll get him, Kid." Barton's voice was steady and reassuring. "Just be vigilant until he's caught. You've got a lot of people who are fond of you."
"Thanks, Clint," She smiled ruefully. "Let's just get the bastard."
Though she'd offered Clint her spare room, he'd left about an hour after he'd dropped his bomb on her. He'd done a security check on her apartment and when he was satisfied all doors and windows were locked and had her promise to be armed at all times, he'd chosen to return to New York.
Rebecca chose to deal with the news of her father's escape by not thinking about it. If she allowed herself to obsess over Declan O'Riley she'd have to address all the Daddy issues that she'd worked so hard to put behind her. If he came after her, which she knew he would, Declan O'Riley was not a forgiving man, even when it came to his own daughter, she'd deal with it then.
Instead, she spent the new two hours buried in the Winter Soldier case. She picked up where her last lead had gone cold, doubled back, cross-referenced with the new HYDRA base locations Hill had sent her a while back and narrowed her search. She ignored her ringing cell phone, skipped dinner and sent encrypted emails to several sources in Europe asking for any news or new leads.
She was going to let Bucky Barnes distract her to the point where her father didn't even make her radar.
It was Nora who got back to her first, through an email with a grainy photograph attached. She could take the woman out of S.H.I.E.L.D. but the hacker in her would never completely retire.
Beck,
Please be careful. I know you're not going after this guy directly but I worry about you anyway. He scares the crap out of me. This photo was taken a week ago, looks like he's in Brooklyn. Again, please be careful.
Love Always,
Nora
Rebecca enlarged the photograph and studied the man walking by a popular coffee shop. The photo was taken from the shop's security footage and pixelated the further she enlarged it. He wore dark clothing, with the collar of his jacket turned up and his face turned down. Chin length, dark hair was scraped back and shoved under a ball cap. It could have been any man at first glance, but in the gap of his left coat sleeve and glove, metallic silver glinted in the sunlight.
Rebecca sat back away from the screen of her laptop and sighed. There were no guarantees Bucky would still be in New York, but she knew as soon as she forwarded this information to Steve, he'd be on the first plane, train or automobile back to the Big Apple.
She had hoped he'd stick around a little longer, but it couldn't be helped. Bucky was Steve's number one priority with his Avenger's duties on pause. She straightened up and forwarded the attachment to both Steve and Sam's emails. Then with her duties done for the evening and nothing else to distract herself with, she shut down her laptop and prepared for a long night of brooding.
"I've dispatched my best assassin to D.C." Michelle Scicluna's saccharinely sweet voice came over the line of the cell phone Declan O'Riley pressed to his ear. "It'll be done within the week."
"I appreciate your efficiency as always, Michelle," Declan took a drag from a cigarette and exhaled menthol tinged smoke. "Blood traitors must pay in blood after all."
"Wisdom has never returned failing any wetwork I've assigned him. I see this as no different, especially since your daughter no longer has the protection of S.H.I.E.L.D." Scicluna sounded confident. "I will inform you once it's done."
Declan murmured a cursory goodbye and hung up the phone, meeting the gaze of Seamus as he did so. "You disagree with my methods?"
"No," Seamus shook his head. "Rebecca betrayed us all, that cannot go unpunished. I just wish you'd let me see to it for you."
"You've always carried animosity toward my daughter, Seamus," Declan mused thoughtfully. "Why is that?"
"She was a spoiled lark, Sir. Always trying to shirk her guards, turning her nose up at the lot of us in the house. Then she tried to snog that Gallagher boy and gave me a snit fit when I stopped her. Like a right banshee, she was that day." Seamus rolled his eyes. "She had no business dating a git whose parents supported the Republic."
Still sour she never snogged you, Declan realized was more accurate and the thought amused him. His daughter had always been a more fanciful sort. She'd have never gone for a brutish bully like Seamus. Seamus, who wore his pride like a badge of honor, must have been vexed when he learned his fancy wasn't reciprocated.
While normally Declan would try to accommodate such a loyal soldier, killing Rebecca would have to be done quickly and discreetly. Seamus was too close, it was too personal. He could wind up being sloppy. Declan would be the number one suspect in her murder, of course, so soon after his escape, but with the Black Air carrying out the hit, they would be hard-pressed to actually prove it was him. Like S.H.I.E.L.D. the agency Rebecca had pledged her allegiance to, the Black Air knew how to cover their tracks.
"You just keep your focus on our search, Seamus," Declan told him. "We're going to find her."
A/N: Apologies for the delay. Life tends to cut back on my writing time and unfortunately, I've been going through a rough time recently. My depression has been trying to drag me down and I let myself fall into a slump the past two months. I'm determined to get out of it though. Focusing on Rebecca and Steve's story helps. I can't promise weekly updates but I'll try to be more frequent with them. Thanks for sticking with me!