"You will meet him there. Once he accomplishes his mission, you will both be extracted. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
"Make sure the wildcard doesn't screw it up."
"Yes, sir."
—
Except that he does screw it up. Claiming his gun jammed and that he couldn't take the shot. Even though the vids reveal that he was more concerned about the child collateral.
Which strikes her as odd.
But it's not until she hears the dying whisper of his target say "give 'em hell, Six." That her senses go on alert.
"Is he dead?"
"Yes." The man, tall, blonde and bloody terrifying looking says. "Says he was Shield. One of ours."
"The file said nothing about that."
He looks at her, annoyance on his face as if she'd just stated the glaringly obvious. Which…. Fair.
She takes a picture of the man's dead body and sends it to HQ for confirmation. "Extraction will be here in t minus 45 minutes."
"'Kay." He says, jumping down for the large platform all the fireworks had been blasting off from minutes before.
She rolls her eyes. Dramatic American men and their exits.
Except he doesn't show up at the helicopter and when she informs Sitwell, the command leader of the op, about that he seems inordinately angry.
—-
Her jet awaits her only to receive a phone call minutes before she steps onto it.
"Yes?"
"Turn around. See that jet?"
"Yes."
"Get on it."
"Why."
"You're going to Berlin."
"But I—"
"Get in the jet, Carter."
She grits her teeth, "yes sir."
—
She's outside the doorway. Which they seem to have forgotten as they yell at each other.
"Brock Rumlow is certifiably insane! He's a sociopath! We can't call him in!" Carol snaps, her fist hitting the table with a thump.
"We can and we will." Sitwell spits back, "get him on the phone."
—
"So."
She looks up at Sitwell, her arms across her chest, "so?"
"Tell me what I want to know."
She narrows her eyes, "and what is it that I am supposed to know?"
"Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"Shield Six. I want to know where he is."
"And why would I know that?"
"You set up his last op."
"On your orders. I'd never met him before that."
"And yet here you are protecting him."
"I'm not protecting him." She practically snarls, "I'm telling you, I don't. Know."
"Well." Sitwell says with a smug grin. "We'll see how good your memory is on desk duty." He presses a button and speaks into a phone speaker, "yes, Agent Carter is remanded from her field duties for the foreseeable future."
She keeps her face calm, "I can't give you information I don't have."
He just shrugs and then leaves. And she feels there's a lot more at stake then the death of a rogue agent.
—
She hears the explosion and races towards it. Silenced gunshots follow and she creeps up on the two men who are currently trading barbs. But the man she needs is currently in danger of being killed by the former mentioned sociopath. So she tranqs him quickly and walks towards the top of the steps.
The blonde man stares up at her in surprise and then down at the man who is now unconscious, "you think he's a size 11?"
Peggy looks down to see the man is missing a shoe.
"Come with me." She orders.
And even though he looks bruised and bleeding and beat to hell, he still turns to her and mini- salutes, "no thanks." Before turning to limp away from her.
She puts a bullet between his feet and he pauses, turning back to face her.
"Come with me." She demands, holding the muzzle to his chest.
He sighs and shrugs, "sounded like a question. Geez." He stoops down, takes off the man's shoes and weapons and hobbles after her. They get to the car and she points to the trunk. He grimaces, "please, I just want to sit in a chair, I swear I'll behave."
But she tranqs him. He fights it, eyes staying stubbornly open and his body still tensed. So she tranqs him again, and he finally goes down.
—
A groan alerts her to his cognitive abilities before he unceremoniously kicks down the middle divider of the back seat and glares at her. "Was that really necessary?"
"What do they want with you?" She asks sharply, cutting to the chase.
"What do you mean?" He asks innocently. She slams on the brakes, the force causing his body to fly forward and crush him against the back seats in a heap. He's groaning again and he lets out a huffed breath before glaring at her. "Geez lady."
"They took me off field duty. Because they think I'm working with you." She snaps. "You may not care since you're just the wild animal the CIA lets out when they need something done. But I do! This is my life, my career!" She raises her eyebrow at him in the rear view mirror and he sighs as he looks out the back of the hatchback window.
"That guy, the one I killed in Bangkok? He was Shield Four. Or Timothy Dugan after some digging." He says, still staring at the sky. "And he gave me something before he died."
"Like what?"
"It's an encrypted file."
"What was on it?"
He rolls his eyes and glares at her again, "it was encrypted."
"So you don't know."
"No. Except I'm pretty sure it has dirt on Sitwell. And a bunch of other CIA big leagues."
"Where is it?"
"Somewhere safe."
Now it's her turn to roll her eyes. "So, what's your plan?"
At this he sighs, "right now, it's to stay alive long enough to—" he trails off and she waits. "That psycho? The one you tranq'd… you know him?"
"I've heard of him. His reputation precedes him."
The man frowns and tries to wipe at his nose but the cuffs prevent him. "He took Phillips' niece."
Her eyes widen in the mirror, "what? Phillips has a niece?"
The man shrugs, "it's not by blood. He took her in on a mission when they found all these girls left abandoned. He actually had a couple raising her until they died in a car accident. Now he's all she's got. Rumlow kidnapped her. And is using her to manipulate Phillips to give up information on me." Then he pauses, "I assume."
"So… your plan is to save them?"
Again his blue eyes are pointed at the sky. "Ma'am, I have been dropped through a trap door, practically drowned, half blown to bits by a grenade and now tranq'd and stuffed into a car. I'd settle for a hot meal and a shower."
She can tell he's lying. It's like she can almost see the gears in his mind strategizing and working out the details of his plan.
"I want in."
This makes him look at her, "what? Why?"
"Because Sitwell may not be a maniac like Rumlow, but his power grabbing tendencies are out of control. He's the one who forced Phillips out. Right?"
"So it's said."
"So he's forcing me out too and he has no claims. Which means he doesn't a give a shit about anyone if they stand in his imaginary warpath. So I want in. We take him down and that problem goes away."
An appreciative stare is all that she receives as he looks at her. Then he just settles back, the sun on his face, "wake me when we get to Prague."
—-
Prague.
They drive through the beautiful city and park somewhere a few blocks from where they are actual headed.
Peggy rings the doorbell and a woman's voice answers.
Hello?
She responds with the code Six had given her. "Lovely weather we're having today, isn't it."
Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.
"Do you have any for sale? Mine happens to have turned inside out."
The door buzzes open and she smiles.
—-
"He always said you were the one who was going to prove us right."
Peggy glances at the blonde man who sits heavily in the wooden chair that is way too small for him.
And he doesn't respond to the woman's statement, just gestures to the envelope that he'd sent her, "you get in?"
She smiles a knowing smile and nods, "I always get in."
—
Pegg wants to rip Sitwell to shreds after seeing all the information. The double dirty dealings and the corrupt collusion is through the roof.
"We have to take this to the presses!" She states, "people have to know!"
The two, who seem much closer than Peggy would expect of a Shield agent and the former head of the CIA, look at each other and sigh.
"After we get the girl." Six says, "and Phillips if he's there."
"Take my bug out car." Hill says, handing her the keys to a car. "It's in a parking garage a block south from here. Bullet prof and fully loaded trunk."
The man smiles at her, "thanks Maria. Can't promise it will make it back to you."
"If it helps save that little girl then it's enough."
Six is about to respond when his entire body goes rigid. His eyes flit to the windows and suddenly he's shoving her hard and yanking Maria Hill down and out of the way with him. The room explodes and she ducks, putting the thickest wall between her and the gunfire.
She looks up to see six covering Hill with his body, but their eyes both land on the keys which rest right where she dropped them. He shakes his head 'No' but she growls in annoyance and bolts forward. Snatching them off the ground and then diving back to her cover as more gunfire starts.
"Go." He shouts. But she hesitates, unsure if leaving them is the best option. Then a thunk as a grenade lands between them. "Go." He bellows, yanking Hill further away from the explosion.
She bolts. Running out the door and slamming it behind her.
The boom practically topples her down the stairs, but she manages to hold onto the railing and jump the last few. Then she's on the street and racing south, passing police cars as they fly past her towards the scene.
—
Halfway there she sees a car of agents heading towards the square. She slams into it, knocking the high top van sideways, and she aims, taking carful shots to ensure their quick deaths. Then she leaps out of her car, yanks one agent out of the vehicle, takes his earpiece and weapons and then slams back into her own car, accelerating towards the square.
—
"How about someone shoot the man that is handcuffed to the bench!" She hears Rumlow bellow into the earpiece. She winces at the volume but presses the gas further, knowing Six is in trouble.
Bravo team go.
Charlie team is go
Alpha team respond
She hears calls and responds over and over as she gets closer, dread filling her as she waits for his confirmed kill. Except it doesn't happen.
Alpha team is down
Rumlow snarls on the earpiece, "how hard is it to shoot somebody!" Then he's ordering more teams to join the fight.
Sir the police are fighting us
There's too many
Bravo team is down
"Kill anyone who is in your way!" Rumlow orders as she careens into the square, eyes widening at the mass chaos. Police cars and other vehicles flipped and on fire. Shootouts on every side and then she sees it, a man's hand being held to a bench by some intense looking handcuffs. She watches as he throws something at someone approaching and then suddenly shooting at the mechanism, getting himself free.
Her heart catches in her throat as a vehicle goes plowing into right where the bench was a second ago.
"Status!" Rumlow orders, "I want eyes!"
She waits, until she sees blonde hair sprinting towards the tram that is entering the square. Her hand finds the gearshift and she's gone.
—-
She finally catches up to him. She spots him running. On top of the tram. She rolls her eyes and then shouts, "jump!" He looks, catches her eye and then nods, but gets distracted by gunfire coming from the car below him. So he runs further, leaps around the side and comes crashing through one of the lower windows. She doesn't even have time to be impressed as he takes on a few agents hand to hand, disposing of them quickly and stealing whatever weapons he can off their bodies.
A shout of pain has her eyes darting from the road and back to him. He looks annoyed as he yanks a knife out of his side and then flicks that knife back at its owner, hard enough to impale it into the guys chest. He goes down.
He motions for her to slow down and she obeys, releasing the gas as he clears shards from the broken window. Then he leaps, slamming onto the top of the car and holding on as she turns onto a side street and gets out of sight. She slows down when they're out of sight and he unceremoniously rolls off the car. Down the front and onto the stone street. She sits, waiting for him to get up. He does, slowly and then he walks a few feet away from the car before turning towards her and very stiffly walking towards her. The door opens and he slides in quietly.
"Where to now?" She asks with an eyebrow raise.
"The hospital."
Concern and annoyance rise up. "Were you hurt that badly?"
He holds up his hand and a collection of letters and numbers are there. "Gotta locate something."
"And that would be?"
"Pacemaker."
Her mind whirs, "Phillips has a pacemaker?"
He shakes his head and the look on his face is grim, "no, the girl does."
She puts the car in drive and they take off.
—
After easily sneaking past the hospital staff, they sit in an unused room that looks more like a forgotten patients room than a storage facility. But it provides supplies and a computer on which to search so she's fine with it.
Six sits on a bed, wiping something bloody off his neck and holding pressure somewhere else. She could ask if he needs help, but she doesn't. And he doesn't even glance her way.
"There—" she says pointing at the gscreen and the program she's pulled up, "should be able to locate her through this."
He stands and walks over, typing slowly and clicking enter.
"Croatia?" She asks, "why take her there?"
He frowns, "why does Rumlow do anything the way he does? Because he's insane."
Peggy shrugs. That's true enough.
But they don't get a chance to discuss that as a burst of glass surprises them and a man is suddenly there, kicking and punching at Six. She joins the fight and they work well together, but this man is excellent, hitting Six where he's been injured and then using the room's equipment to his advantage.
Suddenly she feels the tension shift when he picks up a pair of surgical scissors and slams them into Six's side, all while reaching around his neck and snatching the pendent carrying the drive.
Peggy's mind goes into overdrive. She pounces, using all her skills to get it back and she manages, grasping the thin chain in her hand as she steps back from the man who wipes the blood away from his face.
"Give it to me." He says calmly.
"No." She snaps back, starting to tuck it into her pocket. But he tosses a clipboard at her and then he's yanking her forward, they trade more blows but he manages to slam her back against the ground and she crumples, the pendant hitting the ground. He snatches it up and shoots out the window behind him. Six is back on his feet, blood covering his side and chasing him out the window. She hurries over as fast as she's able to see the man shooting at the police and causing mayhem.
Six is at an empty police vehicle looking for something when she shouts, "toss me a gun!"
He does and she takes off, she hears a "wait—" but she doesn't stop, running on the edge of the rooftop and jumping down in front of the man on the motorcycle, pulling the trigger.
Except the gun just clicks and the man races past her.
She looks up in shock as Six appears in front of her. "You gave me an empty gun!"
He throws his hands up, "no one throws a loaded gun! It's safety 101! The shells were coming!"
She growls at him and shoves the rifle against his chest before stomping off to where they parked the car.
It takes a bit of time to ensure the police, who have the hospital well covered, don't see them slip out of the parking structure. They keep their heads down as everyone is on high alert after the destruction that afternoon.
It's a bit later when she hears the pained breathing and she looks over. Six is sitting very calmly, holding a hand to his side.
Oh right. He got stabbed.
She does a quick search on her phone and changes directions.
—-
"What is this?" He asks in amusement, "I didn't know they made puppy mouth wash."
"Just—" she sighs, waving for him to get it over with.
Six sits down, pulling up his shirt and revealing the gruesome looking wound. He grits his teeth as he pours the blue liquid over the wound and then bandages it. "Missed my lung and my kidney." He says with a frown, "amateurs."
She has to disagree, since they're down the encrypted file, but she stays quiet. Until her curiosity can't be saturated until she knows.
"If Phillips gave you up…" she looks at him, and his solemn blue eyes are on her, "why rescue him?"
—
2 Years Earlier
Steve sits there dumbfounded, "you want me to what?"
Maria Hill looks at him in amusement, "babysit, Six. The word is babysit. But I'm your case it's more like preteen sit."
He looks over at Phillips whose gruff face portrays little. "You have a niece?"
The old man sighs and shakes his head, "no. Not by blood. Do you remember that shit show in Russia? Where all those little girls were found handcuffed to their beds?"
Steve's stomach churns, "yes."
"Well, apparently one of them was more 'valuable' or whatever the hell that meant to those psychos. So the people who had originally left her behind, kept trying to steal her back from wherever we placed her. So eventually I took her and gave her to the Starks."
Steve blinks at him. "The Starks. As in…"
"Howard and Maria Stark. The tech guy."
"Didn't they—"
"Get ran off the road conveniently killing the entire family except the little girl?"
Steve grimaces, "I see. So that was a hit as well. How did you know them?"
"We worked in military contracts before he decided to do private weapons contracting and I joined the CIA. But because of the accident the girl had to have a pacemaker put in. And—" something that Steve wants to label sentimentality crosses Phillips' face. "She didn't want to go anywhere else. She wanted to stay with people she knew. So I agreed to be her guardian and I go to see her when I can. But I have to run this two week op and I can't leave her alone and unguarded for that long. Which is why you're here."
"You don't have to care, you just have to make sure she stays safe."
Phillips looks at him and a genuine expression of trust crosses his face, "you're the only one I trust."
Steve swallows and nods, "okay."
—
Outside of Hong Kong
"So who are you?"
Steve looks down at the girl, her fiery red hair slinging in the sun as she eyes him with a much more perceptive eye then he would expect of a 11 year old. "My name is Six. I'll be watching you while Phillips can't."
"That's a number." He looks at her, raising an eyebrow, and she huffs, "that's not a name. That's a number."
"Yes, well-" he says slowly, "that's the number they gave me when they pulled me out of prison." He waits expecting some reaction but she just glares at him. Impressive. "It's for both our safety."
"Do you know my name?"
"I do."
"Dinner!" He hears the woman who is in charge of the house care call, "come eat!"
The girl glares at him as she walks out of the room and Steve thinks it's going to be a long two weeks.
—
That next morning he notices that his knife is missing. The one he keeps under his pillow as he sleeps. His instincts are instantly on alert and he starts to search, checking the perimeter he's set and making sure there's no holes in his security. It isn't until he hears the familiar shing that he realizes what's happened.
He walks to the backyard, stepping around the edge of the pool and catches her sitting in the egg shaped patio chair. Flipping his knife like an expert.
He tries to ignore the fact that he's impressed she was able to steal it from him while he was sleeping. Allowing his annoyance to play first. "You shouldn't steal." He says calmly.
She looks up at him, her fingers deftly moving the knife in a complicated formation before she flings it at him quickly. His fast reflexes let him step to the side and grab it out of the air. When he looks back she has an eyebrow raised. "You shouldn't kill." She shoots back.
At this he feels a half smile tug on his lips. "Guess we're both guilty." And there's a tiny hint of a smile on her face too. And for some reason he feels proud a having drawn one out. "How'd you manage?" He holds out the knife and she steps out of the chair, walking much more gracefully than an 11 year old should, and she snatched it from his hand so quickly that if he had wanted to stop her he's not sure he could have.
"I'm fast. And I'm quiet."
She says it as a challenge, as if expecting him to deny her these truths.
But he just nods and looks at her seriously, "impressive." And his word makes her eyes widen slightly, as if no one else but perhaps Phillips has ever allowed her to think something good about herself. He leans forward a bit, leveling their heights, "but can you fight?"
She smirks at him, "I was the best."
And he believes her.
—
The next few days pass in a routine. He makes sure the perimeter is still set, checks the cameras, ensures none of the trips have been set off, and the. He watches her go through her daily routine. Eat, homework, eat again, swim, ballet, and then free time. Which is always when she comes to him demanding that they spar.
Steve allows it, but he does go easy. Her face pales when she experts too much energy, and he can tell she doesn't like the new limits her pacemaker sets for her. So he's careful to make it feel like a fair fight, but not push her too far.
She is an excellent fighter. Her skill and grace from training and ballet make her a deadly opponent to those unsuspecting. But her small size and now weak heart make her an easy target as well. So he trains her how to use her size and abilities instead of relying on brute force or enduring speed.
Her little fists punch into his back and forth as she pants, her face flushed. And he can see all too easily why Phillips's crusty exterior cracked for this little girl. A fighter through and through.
He finds that she also loves music. Classical music is her genre of choice and it fills the house.
He grows accustomed to hearing Dance of the Knights from Sergei Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet or Masquerade from Khachaturian as she practices ballet or while they fight.
Steve and her have light arguments about the skill levels of Russian classical composers versus the rest of the world's.
The first week ends and the second one begins. And he finds that he does not mind this at all. It's a simple and rewarding routine.
One night, while the rest of the house is asleep, he pulls out a piece of paper from the printer in the office and starts to sketch. Something he hadn't done since his father burnt all his supplies as a lesson into what was a manly activity or not.
Slowly he uses the two utensils available to him. A black pen and a red colored pencil to sketch her. Her body postured in releve position, arms extended high above her head and feet pointed just so.
"Is that me?"
And it's only the second time Steve can remember in his whole life ever feeling like he's jumped out of his skin. And even though it's mostly internal, he takes one quick second to regain his composure before slowly swiveling his head to see her leaning over his shoulder, staring at his sketch. "Yes." He says slowly, "what are you doing awake?"
And she grins at him, "it's creepy for you to be drawing little girls."
He chuckles softly, "so you admit it finally. You are indeed a little girl." She frowns and glares at him which makes him laugh again. "Why are you awake?"
She plops down into the kitchen chair next to him, pulling her knees to her chest, "couldn't sleep. Too hot in my room."
He glances at the thermostat. It's set to 67 degrees. And concern rises, "you feel okay?"
She glares at him, "I'm fine." Then she reaches over and snatches the picture from his hands, studying it. "You're good."
And he's not sure if it's because it's from her, a girl who compliments nothing except perfection, or because no one besides his mother and maybe Bucky had ever said anything nice about him wanting to draw, that he feels deeply moved by the two words. "Thank you." He says slowly, "my inspiration is good too." He gestures at her and she looks up, the dim lights reflecting in her green eyes. And she smiles.
—
Two nights later is when it goes downhill quickly.
The house is once again asleep but his cameras go offline.
And he slowly stands, pulls out his knife, flips the safety off his gun, and waits.
Movement makes his head tilt sideways as he tries to gauge where it's coming from. He steps sideways behind a wooden beam and is rewarded when soft footsteps approach.
Quickly he grabs, slamming the man's head against the beam before releasing him and landing a punch on his jaw. The man groans and starts to fight back, swinging and kicking at him. But he dodges, grabs his knife, cuts a straight line across his collarbones making the bullet proof vest drop and then when the man looks down in surprise, and then back up at him Steve already has his silenced pistol in hand. Two shots. One to the head and heart and the man falls down, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
"Six?"
He turns to see Natasha standing there, eyes wide and her large pajama shirt hanging over her shoulders.
"Hey." He says, stepping a bit to the left to try to cover the body that is partially around the corner.
"Everything okay?" Her eyes train down and he winces, knowing she's seen. But he shrugs and keeps his hands behind his back, the knife and gun held in each one.
"Just another Thursday." He says with a smile. Trying to seem at ease.
And for the first time since he arrived she does stare at him with a bit of fear and he wonders how much she saw. She backs away and steps behind her door, closing it quietly.
He sags against the beam and then puts that out of his mind. Instead he drags the body to the backyard and hides it in the storage shed where he'll have someone come pick it up later.
After cleaning up the mess in the house, he resets the perimeter and cameras and sighs, eyeing the sketch of his that Natasha had put on the fridge. Wondering if she'll want to spar tomorrow.
Probably not.
—
She does seem a bit more trepidatious around him, but the routine goes as normal. Even her sparring with him a bit although she seems more tired than normal.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Steve asks, feeling her punch and knowing it's not as strong as usual.
"I'm fine." She grits out, glaring at him.
"We should stop." He says, pulling his hand back. "Just in case."
"I'm fine!" she shouts, lunging and striking a fist to his chest, trying to get him to defend himself. But he doesn't, and he just lets her pummel his chest with her little fists until she finally lets out a pained sob and slumps forward, her head resting right under his neck. "Why won't they just let me be?" She whispers, "why can't they just stop."
And it all clicks in his mind. Last night was a reminder that she's not just a kid, she's wanted by some psychos who want her for her skills.
"I don't know." He admits, lightly resting his chin on top of her hair, "but they're not going to get you. Not ever. Not while I'm around."
She looks up at him and studies his face, trying to gauge whether he's telling the truth.
Finally she nods, believing him. "Come on, Six." She grumbles, wiping roughly at her face, "I'm hungry."
—
"She's asleep," the housekeeper states, "I'll be back tomorrow morning, same time."
Steve nods, waving her off and settling in for his night watch.
Around 2am he hears a sound that has him sitting up.
"S-six?"
He turns to see Natasha, stumbling down the hall. "Somethi—" she gasps, "something's wrong." She clutches at her heart and then falls, hitting the ground with no attempt to slow her fall.
Panic shoots through him and he jolts forward, scooping up her tiny frame and holding her tightly to his chest, trying to stay calm as he races outside to the car.
—-
"A programming glitch—" the nurse says with a sympathetic face, "it's a good thing you got her here when you did, it's been all fixed up and she should be okay. Just keep an eye on her."
He looks through the glass window where Natasha lays, her eyes barely open in exhaustion and she waves, giving him a little salute that he smiles back at in relief.
—
After that, he hovers a bit and she glares at him for it. But he thinks she doesn't mind so much either. Two scares in 48 hours is a lot for anyone.
When Phillips comes back, Natasha runs to him and hugs him, and Steve steps out the door, walking to the vehicle he's to use to be extracted with.
"Six!"
She turns to see Natasha running towards him.
"Hey, hey!" He calls, "you shouldn't be running, stop that!"
She slows and then glares at him. "So what, you weren't going to say goodbye?"
He tilts his head with a smile, "did you want me too?"
She glares at him again but there's a smile on her lips. "Bye, number."
He laughs, "bye, little girl."
She runs forward, hugging him tightly and he returns it easily, hugging her tightly and resting his chin on her hair, "you stay out of trouble, you hear? No more stealing stuff."
She smirks at him, "only if you promise no more killing."
He taps her nose, "no promises, kid."
Then her face grows serious, "stay alive, Six."
And he nods, "I will. I got a promise to keep."
Her solemn eyes follow him as he drives away.
—
Present Day
Peggy waits as Six seems lost in a memory for long minutes.
"Phillips' didn't give me up for nothing. He's doing it to protect his niece and I get that. I encourage it actually."
She blinks at him, "you encourage his betrayal?"
Six huffs, "it's not betrayal, it's priorities. And he's got his straight. Now can we go?" He places the last piece of tape and then stands.
But she's not sure yet. "You're part of the shield program." She states. And he looks at her, waiting for whatever else she's going to say. "Why were you in prison?"
He turns, giving her a view of his arm and expansive back. A huge scar, like a splintering lightning bolt runs down his left arm, and other scars and marks span his body. He reaches for his shirt, slipping the bloody grimy cloth back on.
"Why do you want to know? Will it change whether you help me or not?"
"Maybe." She says, keeping her eyes and expression serious.
"I, uh—" he settles back onto the medical bed and looks at her, not much emotion on his face. "When I was growing up, I—" he wriggles his nose as if it itches and then leans back more, staring at the tiled ceiling, "my dad had all these rules. What makes you a man and what makes you a good wife." She watches as his throat bobs and he continues, "well me and my ma must have been really bad at it because he sure liked 'correcting' our mistakes."
Her stomach tightens, knowing what he's implying. "I didn't mind so much when it was me. Better me than her. That's what I always said. That's what always ran through my head as he… taught me the lessons he thought I needed to learn. But then…" his eyes sort of glaze, "one night I just knew. It was going to be my ma's night. He didn't know his limits and she was going to get his worst. And I just couldn't do nothing anymore." He shrugs as if he's not telling a horrifying story, "I do what I thought needed to be done." He looks up at her and there's just resignation on his face, "I thought… 'how noble of me' and everyone else thought I should be in jail." He lets out a humorless scoff as he shifts, trying to sit more comfortably, "the judge even ruled that I be tried as an adult. You know why?"
He's not really asking. So she stays silent.
"They said I killed him so well. That it must have been premeditated. That I'd planned to kill him and I did it so efficiently that it wasn't a childish crime of passion or whatever the hell the term is." Then he shrugs again and looks at her. "And I guess I did. i did plan to kill him."
He stands, and looks at her, as if awaiting her thoughts. When she stays quiet he shrugs, "so I went to high security prison until Phillips shows up one day and pulls me out. My ma had died my first few years in." He shrugs again, but this time she can see the pain in it, the way his throat flexes, "and my friend who used to visit me in prison got told I died in a fight." He waves his hands out, palms up and looks at her. "Now I'm here."
Peggy nods and stands, "well, let's get to Croatia then."
Relief crosses his face briefly before he nods, "yeah, let's go."
—-
She uses whatever she can find to execute the plan. With the stolen guard uniforms and weapons, she creates distraction after distraction in the form of explosives and shootouts.
She uses every skill and sense she can to survive as she goes running and leaping and crashing through things. She hopes Steve has found Phillips and the girl, but she probably won't know till this whole thing is over.
She finally makes it to the command center, and has just gotten the pendant when a kick to her back sends her sprawling. She turns to find the man from the hospital glaring at her.
She fights and struggles to survive against the man, the cord pressing deeper into her neck as oxygen leaves her. But she grabs the knife in her belt and severs it, falling forward and gasping as does the man on the other side of the table.
He turns to her, pendant in his hand and he stops. "Are you here to kill the girl?"
She coughs, shaking her head, "no. I'm here to rescue her. Are you?"
He shakes his head, "no. I was here only for this." With a quick motion he tosses her the pendant. "But these are not honorable people. So do with that what you must."
He's gone in an instant and she scrambles to get to her feet.
—
She hears a large splash and then "Six!" Which has her running along the outside stone balcony faster. She turns to see Rumlow dragging a young girl into a hedge maze and Six standing facing them, a gun pointed to Rumlow's head.
She briefly wonders where Phillips is, but puts that out of her mind while she runs back to the command room where she saw long range rifles.
—
"Move him right and I'll have the shot." She whispers into his earpiece.
"Forget the shot." He orders, "come down here and get Natasha."
Natasha. That must be her name. She's about to agree when she hears pleading through the earpiece .
"What? No! I'm not leaving you here with him! He's crazy! Six, no, come on, come with me, you promised!"
She waits, wondering what his response will be.
"It's okay, kiddo." He says calmly, "I just got to take care of something real quick. You run to the edge and you wait for my friend to pick you up. Carter, you copy?"
Her voice is dry as she responds, "I copy."
—
The girl is crying and furious when she finds her. "You're going to help him," the girl demands, "right?"
"I will if I can." Peggy responds calmly, "but I need you safe first. That's his first priority, come on." She half has to drag the girl to the car, but eventually she complies and they drive away.
—
She watches the body cam from Danvers later.
Rumlow and Six fight tooth and nail, each one gaining the upper hand a few times, and Peggy can't help think that if Six hadn't been already so blown to pieces that he would have won easily. But Rumlow manages to stab him multiple times throughout the fight, each one making Peggy more nauseous. But as Rumlow attempts to suffocate Six in the water, she watches a switch happen. He tears up, renewed strength and clawing his way back, fighting until he has Rumlow in a head grip, choking the life out of him through sheer willpower and force.
A shot registers and then blood blossoms on Rumlows chest. Six drops him and stares in shock at whoever arrives. But then he's being handcuffed and the body can footage ends.
She clicks out of the screen. Knowing he's 6 floors below her in the medical ward being held there by security until he's healed enough to go to prison.
Sitwell and she sit in a meeting where they're admonished for the disaster this mission was, but she waits. Knowing that she has to get away from here before she can release what she knows to the press. But she can't leave Six here either. As they'll kill him when the information gets out.
"So, Carter," Agent Russo says, looking at her, "the girl is secured?"
She nods, "yes, the safe house she's in is well covered.
"Good." The man says, "and what about Six?"
Sitwell frowns, "he's being difficult."
"How so?"
Peggy keeps her face calm and flat, not wanting to show she's paying attention or cares. "He won't tell us who helped him, or how the girl got away but back into safe hands, or anything about the asset retrieval."
That's when Peggy turns to him, confusion playing cleverly across her face, "asset retrieval? I thought this was about the first op?"
Sitwell glares at her and snaps his mouth shut.
"Dismissed." Russo says, rolling his eyes.
—-
She rides the elevators down with Sitwell and Danvers.
"He's basically unresponsive. Won't talk or eat or do anything."
Concern rises in her chest but she masks it. "Well," Sitwel grumbles, "I'll get him to squeal."
Except when the doors open, and the hallway lights are flickering and bodies lay strewn across the floor she smiles and raises an eyebrow. "I guess not." She says coolly.
They find the nurses and doctors all locked in a room, safe and unharmed. And Peggy feels her smile grow wider.
—
"Sir?"
Peggy turns at the same time as Sitwell and finds Rollins there with a phone up against his ear.
"What?"
"There's been an alert."
Sitwell glares at him, waving his hands at the mess of a hallway, "yeah, Rollins, I can see that, I'm not blind."
The man winces, "no sir, not here. At the safe house."
It takes all of Peggy's willpower to not burst out laughing.
"Come again?" Sitwell growls out.
"We can't reach any of the agents at the girl's safe house."
Sitwell practically screams in frustration as he runs to the elevators.
—-
Peggy somehow manages to convince them to let her come along.
And the first thing she notices is the classical music that is blasting through the house. Dead agents lay strewn about, bullet holes in walls and broken decorations everywhere.
She walks, finding the girl's bedroom and the stereo that is blasting the music. She switches it off and ejects the disc.
Play it loud little girl
Is written in neat and bold handwriting. And she smiles, stuffing the CD in her pocket.
—
A month later she checks her mail.
An envelope with no return address catches her attention. She opens it to find two things. A postcard from Ecuador, that does have an address on it, and a folded up piece of paper. She reads the note on the postcard first.
He doesn't know I'm doing this. But I finally got him to tell me about you and how you helped him get me safe. Then I asked him to draw you so I could remember what you looked like since my memory of that night is kinda "shaky". (He's a sucker for believing that by the way, but I think he was okay with having an excuse to draw you anyways). I included that here. In case you needed another reason to come. I've always wanted a badass for a mom.
-from the Little Girl and her Number
She smiles at the note and carefully picks up the folded piece of paper. It takes her breath away. It's a sketch of her on the day she tranq'd him. The gun up and pointed as it at the person drawing her, and the sharp set of her eyes and the quirk of her mouth has her running her fingers over the lines.
She sees a small marking at the corner.
S.R.
And she realizes with a shock that these must be his actual initials. She reads the note again, looks at the clock, and then carefully tucks them both into her pocket as she walks to her room to begin packing.
She's always wanted to live somewhere warm and tropical anyways.