One Week Earlier
Samantha woke on an unfamiliar bed. It was lumpy, a single and definitely not the one in her flat. She sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the edge and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, wondering how the hell she'd gotten herself into this position. Had she been drunk? Had she had a one-night stand? No, she couldn't remember touching a glass of alcohol or going into a bar after work. What had happened to her? Had she been kidnapped again? She certainly hoped not. The last time had really screwed her over. "I was wondering when you'd wake up Miss Potter or is it Miss Stark? You know, you've got enough aliases to sink a ship," she heard, recognising the voice, and looked around to see Everett Ross standing in the corner of – what she now realised was – a very grey room. She was currently the subject of an extraordinary rendition, a governmental kidnapping if you like. She glared at him, wondering how long he'd been standing there, whether watching her sleep got him off somehow. "Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" he said sarcastically.
"If this is about Brussels, I've told you I don't know anything," she spat. She couldn't be bothered to protest his use of her real name. She should have known that he had her figured out. Were she not so angry, she would have even deigned to be impressed.
"They told me you were intelligent Miss Stark. Your fiancé is a very difficult man to deal with when he wants to be," he said and she rolled her eyes, smiling, proud of Steve. Of course he was difficult, he was as stubborn as a mule and as strong as an ox "We want – no need – you to go in there and ask him why on earth he thought helping Bucky Barnes was a good idea."
She kept her mouth shut, looking him right in the eye and shaking her head. She wouldn't make herself out to be some kind of villain just so Everett Ross could be a hero. It wasn't in her nature. "Surely you want to see him," he taunted but she stared blankly, she wasn't going to give up just yet. "Your father's here and Natasha Romanoff. Sam Wilson too."
She turned her head away from him, looking down at the pillow her head had just been on. She didn't want to look at him. "I'll tell the whole world your identity."
A part of her didn't care about the loss of her new life, not if it meant being used against Steve. Another part of her realised that she couldn't quite handle that loss, not when everything was still so new. Weighing it all up, she nodded "Fine but I want your word that it won't be recorded in any way, shape or form."
He extended his hand out to her and, reluctantly, she shook it.
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They'd shoved her in a white floral dress and white gladiator sandals. Apparently, it was the only thing they had in her size. She was a size 6, did the JCTC only hire women who were a size 0 or something? She'd convinced herself that Steve would know that something was up. She'd never wear anything like this were it not forced upon her. He was a smart man; he knew when he was being played.
Was she really playing him though? She couldn't tell. All she was doing was trying to guide him in a certain direction even if she disagreed with that particular direction, right?
She stood in the doorway, breathing in for a second before heading inside. She shut the door behind her and saw her fiancé and Sam Wilson look up. Steve stood up and, almost immediately, she was being scooped up in his big, strong arms as she hugged him. "Are you okay?" she asked, having taken note of a few bruises and scratches on his face, nearly breathless with relief.
"Yeah, a couple of bruises – nothing to write home about – you?" he asked and she nodded wordlessly, unable to properly verbalise anything.
"What am I? Scotch mist?" she heard and looked around to see that the words had come from the mouth of Sam Wilson.
"Hi Sam," she said with a slight giggle. She was abruptly put back on the ground. "Look they – they sent me in to tell you Bucky's the bad guy in all this," she began and saw Steve glare at her. "I said that's what they told me to say. Realistically, I should. There I've warned you of what Everett Ross believes. Now, my theory is a little different. I don't think Bucky did it."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked and she smiled, realising that she knew something they didn't, wanting to hatch some kind of not-so-sinister plot with them. This was the kind of thing she missed about S.H.I.E.L.D. if nothing else.
"Seconds after the U.N. bombing, I saw someone who looked like Bucky so I followed him. I wanted to figure out whether he was really involved or not. But it couldn't have been him. I've seen Bucky walk, watched him run away from me. The man I was chasing after, it wasn't Bucky Barnes. His gait was all off. His arm – the Soviet one – it was too light, it didn't throw him off kilter that tiny, insignificant bit the way it normally does," she explained.
"So, you're saying you think Bucky's innocent?" Steve asked. He was hopeful. She still loved that about him, that after all that he had seen he could still be hopeful. It amazed her. She felt like there wasn't much to hope about anymore.
She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to put everything she had to say into words. "Officially, no. I'm – I'm in a tricky position. If I put a foot out of line, I'm screwed," she tried to explain and, upon seeing the look of disappointment in Steve's eyes, added "But, off the record, the answer's yes."
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She stormed into Everett Ross's office, he was staring at his laptop. She heard a Sokovian accent and a more familiar Russo-American one. "I'm not doing that ever again for you or for anyone." He shushed her, putting his finger to his lips. "Unbelievable. It won't work you know. I've tried, it didn't work and I had leverage. He doesn't remember anything. The Russians really did a number on him."
He paused the live feed of the interrogation and looked her in the eye. "Miss Stark, need I remind you that I am very willing to reveal your little secret to the world?"
"And need I remind you that you've forced me here against my will? Your bosses at the U.N. won't be very happy about that, will they?" she retorted angrily "You need me, that's why you dragged me all the way out here. So, the way I see it, I have the cards in my hands and you ought to agree to my terms. If you use me against my fiancé again, I tell the U.N. Security Council about your highly illegal use of extraordinary rendition." She leaned over Ross's desk, slamming the laptop shut. "And I have the ear of the British Prime Minister, so don't think that I won't." She didn't have time to get an agreement because that was when the alarm began to sound.
