Note:
TW: mentions of non-explicit (past) sexual assault, non explicit (past) death.
There's some pretty heavy themes in this chapter, so take care of yourselves.
Humor and catharsis at the end of the chapter I promise.
"How are you really doing Shay?" Sam asked, his brows knitted with concern. He'd requested a check-in a few days after her return and Shay had arranged to meet him in her room.
"I'm- I'm good." Shay shook her head as he raised a doubtful brow in her direction. "Okay, I'm ok. the whole awards thing is… it's just hitting me now, how messed up it all is."
The kettle whistled and Sam waved at her to continue talking as he poured the water into the little jade teapot. The aroma of green tea filled the air and Shay settled deeper into the couch as Sam sat down on the cushy stool across from her.
"Ross, the accords, almost dying in the Raft, us being fugitives. Now the same government that gave him that authority, that hunted us, wants to give me a medal for killing a crazy purple alien."
"I hear you." Sam nodded slowly, handing her the first cup, "it might help if you stop masking though."
Shay huffed, sipped at her tea and setting the cup down, focused on the glow.
Glow came naturally, and couldn't be controlled, 'influence' on the other hand, was something Shay had carefully crafted walls around to prevent others from experiencing her pain second-hand.
When her gift had first presented, anyone she touched could feel every ache her body carried and the emotional pain she carried had permeated the space around her. She'd isolated herself for nearly a year, trying to find a way not to hurt everyone around her.
Rubbing her left thumb against the pads of the middle and pointer fingers, weaving a strand of pure light. Shay focused on it and gently prodded the edges of the barrier, still holding back the pain that thrummed in her, she imagined just letting the emotions out.
Sam shivered slightly as the glow that warmed him was cooled by a quiet despondency, regret and shame. They'd talked through the events of the conflict that broke the Avengers apart several times before, and most of the sting was gone, but the mention of Ross still brought back the memory of Shay's struggling breaths in a cold cell next to his. The fear that any moment that single proof of life might end. But they were not here to discuss his trauma this time.
"Being rewarded for causing a death can be difficult to reconcile with the value you have for life." Sam said gently, leaning forward with both hands wrapped around his cup. "It's a kind of moral injury, many soldiers struggle with it in the aftermath of battle. But I have to re-iterate; what you did was necessary."
"I- I get that," Shay answered, "Thanos was going to destroy half the living universe, I stopped him." A flicker of pride, coloured with shame. "I knew, you know."
"Knew?"
"I knew it'd kill me too." Shay's tone was falsely light but the raw feeling shared between them said it mattered more than she'd like to let on. "The stones were eating through him, and I could feel…" she paused, choking on the thought as a memory of pain leaked through her barrier. She tapped at her sternum, "Thor's Axe. I felt it. and if I let go, he'd snap his fingers and it'd all be over."
"Take your time, Shay. Take a breath," Sam said gently, fighting the urge to check his own trembling pulse. "Right now, you're safe, at home, with your favorite Avenger." He smiled as the pain evaporated and Shay choked back a chuckle.
"Don't tell Bucky."
Gesturing with his hands as though he was weighing the pros and cons, Sam joked back, "as much as I'd like to rub it in his face, I like being alive better,". He watched her as she straightened up, took a sip from her cup and crossed her legs with a sigh. When he was sure she was ready to continue, he redirected the conversation. "You knew stopping Thanos would kill you."
"Yeah." It came out as a sigh.
"And you knew if you didn't, he would destroy billions of people."
Shay nodded over her cup.
Sam regarded her carefully, feeling the numb emptiness she exuded now. "You willingly gave your life to save them, Shay, these awards are a way for them to begin to say thank you."
"And I get that." Shay sighed again. "If it was you, or Steve or somebody, I'd say they owed you more than a dinner and a few ribbons."
"But you still feel uncomfortable accepting them for yourself." Sam finished, following her feelings on the matter.
"It's different, you're soldiers Sam, fighters, its what you do. I'm a healer, I'm supposed to help people."
"Sometimes helping people means stopping the bad guys."
"I know Sam, I know- I just- I swore." Shay fell silent, rubbing her fingers together mindlessly, comforting herself and making Sam yawn. Finally, she sighed, pressing her eyes tight shut and opening them again to meet Sam's gaze. "I swore I wouldn't kill," she said fiercely, then more softly: "not if I had any other choice. not again."
Sam blinked; the soporific effect of the self-comforting glow washed away in the renewed tumult of Shay's conflicting emotions.
"David." Sam stated evenly.
Shay bit her lip, nodding. Her fingers spun little pools of green flame that danced in her palms.
"Self defense is a rational response." Sam said, and when she wouldn't meet his eye, he continued. "If you hadn't fought back, what do you think would have happened?"
A long slow exhale followed his question and an ominous feeling raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Dread.
"He'd have drugged me again, and eventually I would have broken, done what he wanted."
"And what was that?" Sam pressed, feeling the sharp edge- the breaking point rising in his own chest as she heaved for her next breath. "What was he making you do?"
A stifled sob, a twisted mouth hidden behind shaking hands. And a muffled whisper, "steal them."
Sam shifted from the seat, setting himself on the edge of the couch, within reach but not touching her. "Take your time."
Shay leaned against his shoulder, and the oppressive horror thinned as her breathing steadied. She took several slow breaths, matching Sam's. In through the nose, hold for a beat, and slowly out through the mouth. Shay stopped covering her face, and she stared out the window at the lake as though she was seeing something beyond the setting sun.
"He, he was trying… He wanted. Girls." Shay said, voice clearer but still stumbling over the words. "Wanted me to find the vulnerable ones, bring them back to the house, make them compliant."
Sam offered her the forgotten cup of tea to wash away the bitterness, and she swallowed it gratefully, her shoulder still pressed to his, as though that was all the contact she could bear, badly as she needed the anchor.
"When I refused, he'd threaten me with the gun, force me to drink. Whatever he put in the shot took time away. I'd wake up a day or two later and he'd come in, petting me, telling me it was going to be ok, that he needed me, needed my help, cause money was tight and he couldn't afford to keep helping me out if I didn't pitch in. It was just gonna be for a bit, and those girls were working the corner anyways, why shouldn't we help them, make it safer for them. As if he was safer." Shay spat the last words out like they burned.
Sam reeled under the double effect of her emotions and his own. She'd hinted at the situation, given him the barest description. How as she'd been offered a home that had become a prison, what had happened during her escape, but the implications of what she was saying now ran deeper than he'd expected.
"Did he ever, make you…" Sam wasn't sure if he could say the words, but she shook her head no before he had to. "Thank God." And he meant it.
"But Sam?" Her voice quavered and hot shame and cold dread sent shivers down Sam's spine. "I think, he might have… there were times, when I woke- My clothes didn't feel right. Nothing felt right. And I don't want to know if that was real, or if I imagined it- but, it still feels real in my head."
Sam was good at counselling, good at shifting his own emotions aside so others would feel safe to tell him things. He'd heard a thousand soldiers tell him a thousand terrible stories, but he'd never felt what they said in his own bones, and they hadn't been Shay, hadn't been family.
He didn't mask the horror or the outrage, it wouldn't have stopped Shay from knowing how he felt, anyways. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her, let her know in a language unsullied by words, that she was loved.
"I killed a man, Sam."
"I know."
"I didn't mean to, I just wanted him to stop." Disjointed fear, the burning will to survive and guilt mingled in the air, like the smell of burnt toast. "He grabbed me." Shay mimed a hand on her neck. "And I couldn't. I just wanted him to stop. To let me go, but he wouldn't." Shay stopped; eyes glazed.
"It's ok, Shay, you don't have to-"
"I killed him, Sam. I pushed all the pain in me, into him, and he just..." Shay shook her head. "He died."
"You didn't intend to kill him." Sam asked. Shay shook her head again, the burnt smell receded and Sam shared the relief she felt over having said it all out loud. "You protected yourself from an evil scumbag, Shay, and I'm glad you survived."
"I covered it up."
"So you've said."
"Not exactly proper legal procedure."
Sam shook his head, "not exactly, but justice on this side of the grave isn't perfect either. He can't hurt nobody where he's at."
Shay's fingers twisted again, creating alternate streams of gold and green that danced in the evening light, swirling together and separating again. "Is it awful that I'm ok with him being dead, but I still hate that I did it?"
"No, I'd say that's perfectly normal," Sam answered mildly, "it's how I feel." Shay looked at him, questioning. The mood lightened further. "I hate what he did to you, and I hate that you had to protect yourself from him, but I'm glad you did, and I'm glad he's not out there now walking the streets, preying on people. I'm glad you don't have to sit through parole hearings and wait for the news.
Sam huffed a dry chuckle, "I'm glad you don't have to single-handedly break the Avengers out of prison for living up to their name. Clint'd already be hiding in the vents and Tony might have made the coffee machines sentient by the time you got to us, no telling how long it'd take to stop the next robot uprising." Sam moved his arms robotically, and in his best AI voice said "Caffeinate, caffeinate!"
Shay's shoulders rocked with noiseless laughter and the glow swelled around them with a sense of belonging and familiarity. She sobered quickly. "I promised Bucky I'd tell him everything."
"He won't think any less of you Shay, you've got to know that."
"I- Yeah. I know." She bit her lip again. "But he's going to be mad. Not at me," she quickly added, "at the ghost of a monster that he can't destroy."
"We'll deal with him later, right now I'm more concerned about you."
Shay straightened up, closing down the barriers and setting her jaw in a determined line. "I'll be ok."
"I know you will." Sam said confidently. Standing up and offering her his hand he added, "there's a couple dummies in the gym Tony was talking about replacing… I'm thinking we 'retire' them on his behalf and order in some Thai for after."
"Deal," Shay answered, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. "Nat got me some new throwing knives I've been dying to test out."
xxx
When Steve arrived for his workout the next morning, he found the training dummies in the ring. Slash and puncture marks cover the rubberized torso. A knife that looked like one of Nat's, still lodged in its heart.
"You forgot this in the training room." Steve said, offering Nat the small black hilt.
"I did?"
"Stuck in a dummy."
"Must be Shay's." Nat replied, studying the blade and handing it back to him. "Ask her about it."
"You, okay?" Steve asked Shay, leaning on her open doorway, his arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"Yeah, why?" Shay returned, warily.
Steve showed her the blade. "You got something against the rubber men?"
Shay looked at him for a long moment, still riding the high. The relief of talking and the satisfaction of taking every ounce of anger out on an inanimate object, releasing tension she'd been carrying for half her life.
"There's something you should know."
"I'm all ears."
"Friday, can you send Bucky over when he's got a minute?"
"Of course." The AI responded, but not before the door of the room next to hers opened and Bucky emerged, looking sheepish.
"You two, sit." Shay pointed to the couch. "Please don't interrupt, I don't want to have to repeat this a thousand times." Shay gave them the cliff notes version of what she'd told Sam from her place in the corner, where she didn't have to see their faces.
The dummies were found a few days later at the shooting range, stuffing erupting from bullet shaped holes in tight clusters over the heart, and the metal mounts that should have held their heads, twisted in a way that suggested mechanical strength.
Wanda was the first one to pick up on the strange tension of the two super soldiers, how they moved around Shay as though an invisible bubble had recently popped into existence. And she saw the hurt in Shay's face every time they avoided direct contact. When Steve refused to explain, Wanda sought the answer from Shay herself.
Wanda didn't pitch in to the destruction of the dummies, choosing instead to shadow Shay. Reaffirming the familial bond with physical contact. An easy touch on the arm as they passed in the kitchen, holding her hand, sitting close to her on the couch. And making a point to hug Shay frequently when Steve and Bucky were around. When they still didn't get the hint, she told them off for being idiots.
"She's the same person she was last week, and she misses the hugs as much as you do. I know you think you're respecting her space, but all you're really doing is making her feel untouchable. So go make it right."
Steve ordered a delivery of flowers, and Bucky challenged her to a 'friendly' competition.
Nat seemed unsurprised when Shay finally tells her, and if her hug was just a bit tighter and her eyes a bit sharper than normal, Shay didn't mention it. She simply agreed that this is one thing Bruce, who was back in New Asgard at the moment, shouldn't know, but gave Nat permission to talk to Clint about it.
Two hours later, Friday alerted the residence to a fire alarm in the training room. The dummies, charred and dripping fire retardant, now sport a dozen arrows each, the majority of which center on the splash of vodka below the belt-line.
A team meeting was called and Tony ranted for a half hour about valuable equipment being destroyed, at the end of which he demanded an explanation that could make such behavior seem reasonable from a team of professionals. Everyone turned to look at Shay. Shay shook her head tiredly and said as she left, "you tell him."
Tony swore, loudly and at length. Then he stomped from the room muttering about combustibles and rocket fuel.
The canon was complete by Friday.
'Firing the dummies into the lake' became an event, complete with fireworks and Pizza.
Notes:
I know that was rough, but we got the Dummy cannon, so that makes up for it? a little? Ok, scream at me in the comments, but I did warn you.
p.s. It's mostly warm and sunny from here, with just a few angst sprinkles to make it exciting ok?
p.s.s. I've finally finished the whole thing, just editing now and will be posting the last few chapters within the week.
p.s.s.s. Kittenofthewilds, I hope you got some sleep! Thanks for the comment, I have been getting less and less of them and I was worried that the story was too boring to comment on, you give me hope!
