July, 2013; Hotel Inessa, St. Petersburg…
The one thing HYDRA valued above all else was absolute loyalty. Every member worked to achieve a common goal, the betterment of mankind. Anyone who betrayed such a noble endeavour betrayed HYDRA itself. An offence like that warranted death.
Such was the case with Greshnev Vitalievich, an oil tycoon and long-time business partner of the organization. At least, he had been. Three days prior, Ellen discovered he'd been selling their secrets on the black market, using HYDRA intel to fatten his pockets at the expense of half a dozen ongoing operations. Hacking into his office computer, she discovered he was preparing to flee the country for some safe harbour. To deal with a problem like this required speed and ruthless efficiency.
She called in the Winter Soldier.
Now, she crouched by the glass ceiling overlooking the grand stairwell of his hotel. The artisanal light fixtures bathed the stairway in soft, golden light, highlighting the breathtaking murals painted on the walls. Hotel seemed such an inadequate word. More like palace. Ellen didn't expect to wait long for her prey to show himself. Sure enough, Greshnev and his security escort came into view barely thirty minutes after she arrived. He moved with the speed of a man who knew what kind of danger to expect. Unfortunately for him, he was already too late.
Tapping her earpiece, she asked, "Soldat?" ["Soldier?"]
"Na pozitsii," ["In position"] came the reply.
Greshnev and the half dozen men surrounding him began walking down the stairs. Apart from them were the eight men standing watch by the walls. She would hit the bottom of the stairs, and the Soldier would hit the top, creating a pincer. "Ataka." ["Attack"]
The Soldier's metal arm burst through one of the murals beside a guard's head, dragging him back and creating a hole. One of the other guards rushed over, pistol drawn. The Soldier lashed out like a Crocodile, striking the man's chest with a swing kick as he entered the stairwell. Ellen drew one of the pistols holstered at her thigh and shot the nearest pane of glass. She then hopped down through the hole. One of the guards at the bottom of the stairs stood directly below her. Just as he looked up, she shot him in the head and used him to cushion her landing.
The remainder of the guards went into full alert, shouting curses and clipped orders. Half of them moved to shoot at Ellen and the Soldier, while the other half tried to rush Greshnev to safety.
Drawing a pair of throwing knives from her belt, she threw them into the chests of two nearby guards. The venom coating the blades would finish them off quickly. Charging at another man, she leaped onto him and twisted in a corkscrew until her thighs clamped around his neck. Drawing a knife, she plunged it into his side, stabbing him in the heart by avoiding the ribcage. She leaned forward, ensuring he'd fall in that direction. Rolling smoothly forward, she swept the feet out from a guard, tripping him. A bullet to the back of the head finished him.
By now, the Soldier had flipped over the railing and shot two more guards. Ellen stood, but before she could take a step, the Soldier lunged and held out his metal arm in front of her face. At the same instant, bullets harmlessly bounced off the reinforced titanium instead of putting holes in her face. Pursing her lips, Ellen stared at the man who tried to kill her and shot him in the heart. The Soldier hurled a throwing knife into the chest of the last guard, finishing the last bit of resistance. He then grabbed a terrified Greshnev by the throat and shoved him through a set of double doors into a hallway.
Ellen, holstering her pistol, calmly strode over to them. Clicking her tongue in a tsk, tsk, she said in her simulated Slavic voice, "I'm disappointed, old friend. You should have known better."
"P-Please, I can–" he started to say.
She put a finger to his lips, shushing him like a mother putting her child to sleep. "There's nothing you can say."
Then, cupping his wrinkled cheeks, she leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the lips. He creased his brow in confusion, then grunted. The convulsions came even quicker than she'd intended, and the Soldier released his grip as he took a step back. The toxin Ellen had laced into her lipstick was a concoction she'd been tinkering with for some time now. Looking at the results, she realized it was even deadlier than her initial calculations. Greshnev began foaming at the mouth, spasming and contorting as his body shut down. Within a minute, he lay dead on the floor.
"Hail HYDRA," she said, staring down at the corpse.
Something rattled to the left.
Ellen and the Soldier turned and saw a dark-haired man staring at them. The blood drained from his face, and he awkwardly pretended not to notice them as he tried to unlock his door. Unfortunately his hands trembled so much his key could only scratch the lock. Before Ellen could form a coherent thought, she felt herself looking at the Soldier and saying, "Svideteley net." ["No witnesses"]
Without so much as a nod, he drew a pistol and stalked over to the quivering man, who pressed himself against the door. "Please, I didn't see anything," he said, his voice squeaky with panic. "I didn't see anything, I didn't see anything…"
The Soldier shot him between the eyes.
Back on the Quinjet, Ellen felt a massive headache coming on. She pinched the bridge of her nose as sharp aches lanced through her skull like kabob skewers. She must have been pushing herself too hard. The memory of the mission became a blank space in her mind, but she knew it had been completed.
This was the mission.
August, 2013; the Coral Sea…
"What are we looking at?" Cap asked.
The Quinjet shook as it course-corrected, battling the windy skies. They'd arrive at their destination soon, and like every mission, Ellen felt a tight knot of anticipation forming in her stomach. Romanoff had joined them, continuing a months-long trend. She still sometimes got sent out on solo ops, but more often than not Fury paired her with Cap and S.T.R.I.K.E. In addition, Teams 3 and 4 were being transported in a second Quinjet.
Cap was now wearing his new uniform, tailored to his specifications. Navy blue and utilitarian, it fit him like a glove, complete with a flexible Kevlar bi-weave for protection. The star on his chest was painted a muted gunmetal grey, as were the stripes that stretched across his chest and arms. Along with fingerless gloves, he wore a leather utility belt and a back holster for his shield with straps over the shoulders.
Rumlow tapped the monitor as they gathered in front of it. A face appeared with a grey beard and piercing blue eyes, the expression almost grandfatherly. "The target is Borislav Cherganski. His old man started a revolution against the Communist government in Symkaria in the '50s, funded by the CIA. He was caught and executed in '62, forcing Borislav and his mother to flee the country. After that, he started his own gunrunning operation in '74. That's when he first landed on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar."
Cap furrowed his brow. "How come it's taken so long for us to go after him?"
Rumlow glanced at Romanoff, then replied, "Cherganski made a name for himself supplying arms to various revolutionary groups around the world. Contras, KLA, Syrian militants, even the Mujahideen. At the time, the CIA saw him as an asset against Communism and decided to fund his operation. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s policy was inter-departmental cooperation in those days, so they let him be. Lesser evil, I guess."
Cap didn't bother hiding his look of disgust. "So they had no problem supporting a criminal?"
"Policies change," Romanoff said nonchalantly. "He was an asset back in the day, now he's a target. Simple as that."
"The problem is you can't see the problem with that," Cap retorted. Romanoff only shrugged.
Rumlow continued. "For what it's worth, after Fury took over from Director Keller in '95, he had Cherganski classified as a priority target. But by then he'd gone to ground. Became a ghost story to spook other criminals. Fury sent in a team when he resurfaced last year, but they couldn't get him in time. Now he's hiding in a secure compound on an island." He tapped the monitor again, and a schematic of the compound appeared. Ellen thought it looked more like a large concrete bunker.
"Okay," Cap said, taking a step forward. "Our best bet's a two-pronged infiltration. Rumlow, you and Romanoff enter through the rear entrance. Once you're inside, unlock security for the front. Pierce, you and I will go in that way. We go in, we clear every floor until we find Cherganski. Team 3 will stay outside to secure the entrance, Team 4 will stay in their Quinjet to provide overwatch. I want to keep an eye in the sky in case Cherganski's got a secret exit."
"Copy that," Rumlow said. "S.T.R.I.K.E., gear up."
Ellen relayed the orders to the other teams, then grabbed her gear.
Deploying went as well as expected. After exiting the Quinjet, they left the beach behind and navigated the thick jungle covering the island. Some of Cherganski's men were patrolling the area. Between the two best-trained S.T.R.I.K.E. teams, the world's greatest soldier, and an admittedly top-tier super spy, none of them proved to be a problem. At one point, Cap threw his shield and bounced it off two men situated in different trees like a pinball.
Approaching the compound, Romanoff split off with Rumlow and Team 1. Ellen followed behind Cap with her team. They situated themselves inside the treeline opposite the main entrance, a solid metal barrier that reminded her of NORAD whenever it was featured in disaster movies. They only had to wait a few minutes before the door slid open. The two men guarding it turned to look in surprise, dropping dead when Ellen and Agent Michelsen shot them in the head.
With Cap leading the way, they emerged from the treeline and filed inside. They didn't have much intel on the history of the facility, but judging by the austere décor and solid concrete walls, it must have been an old Cold War bunker.
"Natasha, what's your status?" Cap asked over comms.
"We're just outside the security substation. What's the play?"
"Divide and conquer. We sweep through this place level by level until we find Cherganski. You focus on Levels 1 through 10, we'll take the other half. Maintain radio communication, report anything unusual. We'll rendezvous by the main entrance once we have the target."
"Copy that. Have fun in the basement."
Cap looked at Ellen, who gave him a nod. She then said, "You heard the man; we're starting at Level 11. Let's hustle, people."
Cutting through a few scattered patrols, they found an elevator and took it down to the lower half of the facility. The darkened, almost claustrophobic-inducing hallways and tightly spaced rooms wound through like a maze. She supposed that must have been intentional on the builders' part, giving the defenders adequate time to mount a defense. Good for them that they had a super soldier who could render such tactics moot. Watching him hold his shield up whilst barreling through a group of mercenaries made Ellen want to cook some popcorn.
They found storage areas loaded with weapons crates and machine shops. Everything an arms dealer needed to run his business. Ellen noticed something odd, however. Most of the crates had a layer of dust on them, even though there was enough ordnance present to arm an entire nation's military. Billions of dollars of merchandise, just…sitting there. The amount of parts in the shops were low, while the storage looked overfilled. As if Cherganski were stockpiling munitions. Was he waiting for World War 3? In any case, they'd find and hogtie him before anything like that could happen.
Of course the executive offices were on the very bottom level. Romanoff and Rumlow kept them updated on their progress up above. From the sound of it, they only found barracks and more storage.
Ellen and her team moved up, supported by Cap and his Vibranium shield. At one point, a number of mercenaries fired on them from a security desk, forcing them to take cover. Cap held his shield up and advanced towards them, and Ellen positioned herself directly behind him. They became a moving platform. She'd lean to the right or left, shoot a mercenary with a three-round burst, then return to cover. By the time they reached the desk, half of the mercenaries were dead. Cap leaped to the other side and bashed two men in the face with his shield. Ellen rolled over the desk and, drawing her tactical knife, took down the other two.
"Clear!" she called. Her team moved to join them, and she said, "Main office is just through those doors. Cap and I will go in, so watch our six." While the others took position, she looked up at Cap and asked, "You ready?"
He nodded. "You?"
With a crooked grin, she replied, "I've got nothing better to do."
He kicked in the door, and they entered the main office. There wasn't much in the way of decoration. But Ellen did notice a cot in the corner, next to a large stack of MREs and jugs of water. And some jugs of urine. Standing behind the desk was Borislav Cherganski, dressed in a brown jacket and cargo pants. He'd looked almost grandfatherly and kind in his picture, but here he looked worse. He hadn't shaved in quite a long time, and his thinning hair ran down to his neck. Dark circles under his eyes and the long fingernails suggested he hadn't slept or groomed in weeks. And the presence of the cot and supplies suggested he'd been living in his office for longer than that.
"Ah, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan," Cherganski greeted with a smile, his accented voice deep and soothing. "My father told me stories about you when I was a boy. Your dedication to freedom and liberty was a great comfort to him and his comrades when Stalin enslaved our country."
"There's nowhere to run," Cap warned, looking ready to move at a second's notice.
Cherganski nodded solemnly. "Yes. I suppose none of us can escape our fate. Tell me, Captain, how far can you run? Because something tells me you can't do it fast enough."
Ellen and Cap shared a glance, then the former asked, "What are you talking about?"
"Everyone always assumes the enemy will be easy to recognize. A genocidal madman, a Communist dictator. But the greatest enemies are the ones standing right beside us. You fight for S.H.I.E.L.D., but it has more blood on its hands than anyone. Nobody realizes it has harboured the true enemy for decades, waiting for the chance to strike."
Ellen's heartbeat sped up as her fingers tightened around her M4. He couldn't have known. There was no possible way. HYDRA had kept itself alive all these years because it never allowed its secret to fall into the wrong hands. How could a thug like this have found them out?
"Paranoid conspiracies won't keep you out of custody," Cap said, taking a half step forward. "It's in your best interest to surrender."
"I think not," the old man countered, holding up a detonator.
They both froze, eyes locked on the small black device.
"You see, it is already too late, Captain. The enemy has been preparing for their ultimate victory since before my birth, since you went into the ice. Extending their influence like tentacles. That is why I retreated into this fortress, because I discovered the truth. Everywhere I traveled, every client I sold weapons to, I felt them. Watching me, studying me. Like worms crawling behind my eyes. There is no escaping a force like that."
Ellen tapped her earpiece while Cherganski monologued. "All teams, advise. Cherganski has his hand on a detonator. The facility is likely set to blow when he gives the signal. Everyone evac now."
"Copy," Rumlow replied. We'll meet you topside."
"Ma'am?" Agent Michelsen called from outside.
"You heard what I said: evac now."
"But–"
"That's an order!"
Cap kept his gaze leveled on the old man. "No one else has to die here. We can take you into custody. If you have knowledge to share about a threat, we can protect you."
Cherganski gave him a condescending smirk. "Oh, my dear Captain. So noble, yet so naïve. Hear me when I say there is no hope for any of us." Just as Cap opened his mouth to retort, gunfire erupted further down the hall.
"Go," she told him. "I'll keep an eye on this one."
"You sure?"
Ellen looked him in the eye. "I'm good. Go help them."
Cap glanced at Cherganski, then ran out into the hall.
The old man gave her a smirk. "And what about you? Are you one of them?"
"I guess you'll never know," Ellen said, shooting Cherganski between the eyes.
Cap came back inside a few moments later. "The others are clear…What did you do?"
"He was going to hit the detonator! I…I had to do something." The last part was true, at least. She couldn't risk the old man being brought into custody. Her father could most likely have arranged for his 'disappearance', but this felt safer. She couldn't afford to let Cap learn the truth before she had a chance to explain it to him one day. They rushed around the desk and peered at the corpse, blood pooling underneath its head.
Their eyes drifted to the detonator, and saw the old man's thumb pressed over the button. At that moment, a half dozen muffled booms shook the walls and floor. More came in rapid succession, shaking the facility so violently Ellen stumbled while trying to remain standing.
"Come on, let's go!" Cap barked, ushering her out the door. Together they ran down the hall towards the elevators. A piece of the ceiling broke off and crashed onto the floor ahead of them. They moved around it, and Ellen saw more and more of the place crumbling around them. They barely entered an open elevator before the floor cracked and the ceiling collapsed. The short ride felt agonizingly slow as explosions kept thundering all around them. The entire facility would self-destruct, burying them under a mountain of rubble if they didn't make it out in time.
The elevator stopped with a sudden jerk, and the lights flickered before shutting off. Ellen growled in anger as Cap reached for the doors. Tensing, he pried them open to reveal half of a set of doors. Opening those ones as well, he grabbed Ellen by her waist and lifted her up through the opening. Once on her feet, she took his hand and helped him up.
Even as the floor cracked and broke piece by piece, the two of them bolted down the hall. The facility blueprints had shown a staircase on the east wing that led to the top level. Much slower than the elevators, but none of those were working.
They came within sight of the staircase door, and Ellen pushed herself harder as she sprinted towards it. Just as she reached for the doorknob, the floor fell out from under them. With a horrible lurch in her gut, she fell beside Cap into a dark abyss.
Ellen awoke some time later. There was so much dust in the air it made her cough and wheeze. Blinking back tears from the irritation, she tried to take in her surroundings. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized the gravity of the situation.
It all came back to her at once: executing Cherganski, the explosion, and the sensation of falling. Now she lay buried under several hundred tonnes of concrete. Broken slabs and steel girders were piled overtop her. In that moment, Ellen felt like a dog's bone, buried deep in the earth for no one to find. Who knew just how deep she'd fallen? Then she remembered not being alone when the bombs detonated.
"Ca–" she started to say. Her throat felt hoarse, and she coughed from the excess dust. "Cap. Are you there?"
Just to her left, a slab of concrete shifted. Cap shoved it off himself, groaning as he rose onto a knee. The slab must have fallen on his back when the bunker collapsed. Any other man would have been paralyzed or crushed to death. Fortunately for him, he had a super soldier's endurance and a Vibranium shield. "Pierce?"
Ellen sighed. "Thank you so much for not being dead! Being trapped down here alone wasn't something I was looking forward to."
He snorted, looking around the tiny pocket they'd found themselves in. "This isn't so bad," he said. "The whole German army couldn't take me down. One little building collapse isn't going to, either."
"See? That kind of optimism is just what I needed. Now, if we could just find a way to–" Ellen started to stand, but something stopped her from moving. Her shoulder pulsed with pain that lanced through her chest. Suppressing a whimper, she said, "Cap, I can't move. I-I can't get up. I think something's wrong."
In the near-absolute darkness, she saw him shuffle over to her side. "That's not good," he said after a deliberate pause.
Her heartrate increased. "What? What is it?" With her left hand, she slowly prodded the empty space around her shoulder. When her fingers made contact with a cold, wet piece of metal, a pit opened in her stomach. Feeling along the metal –a piece of rebar, she guessed– she touched her tactical vest. With a strangled gasp, Ellen knew what had happened.
She'd somehow fallen on a piece of exposed rebar that had skewered her through the shoulder under her collarbone.
Her training and discipline vanished like smoke. Trapped all the way down here with a piece of metal protruding through her torso, all she wanted was to escape. To wake up from this horrible nightmare. Heart pounding, she tried to pull herself up. Cap's hands were on hers in a second, which only made her more frantic.
"I have to get out of here!" she said, teeth clenched. "I need to move, I can't–"
"Hey, hey," Cap said, putting one hand on her other shoulder to keep her still. "Stay calm. If we pull that out, or you pull yourself off it, we don't have anything to stop the bleeding. You will die. Understand?"
Her baser instincts, the will to survive that had defined humanity since the beginning, urged her to move. But the rational part of her mind re-assumed control. She realized he spoke the truth. She didn't have advanced healing like him, and if they pulled the rebar out she'd only manage to exsanguinate herself. Taking deep, steady breaths, Ellen calmed herself. More importantly, she lowered her heartrate back to normal. Though the rebar closed off the injury, controlling the blood flow became paramount.
"Can you at least," she said after a moment, "help me move?"
Cap peered behind her. "Yeah. I think I can cut off the section behind you. That way you won't be pinned to the floor." Reaching around to his back, he drew his shield. The pocket wasn't big enough for him to stand, so he half-crouched, half-knelt. Looking at her, he asked, "Ready?"
Ellen nodded, pursing her lips.
She breathed through her nose, the breaths coming quicker and quicker as Cap chopped his shield down, severing the rebar from the section of reinforced concrete it sprouted from. The impact seemed to reverberate through Ellen's chest, and the sharp agony made her eyes water. She whimpered, then as Cap held her back so she wouldn't slump, grimaced. "Fuck!" she hissed. Then, she started laughing. It was an involuntary response that outweighed her sense of fear and doom.
"What's so funny?" Cap asked, sounding bewildered.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ellen replied, "I just swore in front of Captain America. I'm pretty sure that means I'm going to hell."
Despite not being able to make out his features in the dark, she sensed he gave her a wry grin. "Don't worry about it." He helped her up until she knelt on the floor, his strong hands keeping her upright. "Romanoff and the others managed to make it out. Shouldn't take them long to dig us out."
Ellen looked up. "I don't suppose you could be extra Captain America-y and force an opening?"
"If I move any of these pieces, it could cause the whole thing to collapse and crush us," he countered.
"I was afraid of that."
"We'll just have to sit tight until rescue comes."
Ellen turned to look at the outline of his head. "How do you do that? How do you stay so positive, so hopeful, even when the situation goes pear-shaped?"
She felt him shrug. "When things get bad, that's when having hope matters the most. You can't let yourself focus on the negative. Back in the war, there were so many times I didn't think I could keep going. Our supplies would run out, we'd be trapped behind enemy lines…" He paused, sighing with the weight of old memories. "We'd see friends die."
"How do you keep going?" she asked.
"Because someone's gotta finish the fight, make sure all that pain wasn't for nothing. Because some things are worth the sacrifice."
Even down here in the abyss, he managed to be inspiring. "I guess I'm just a cynic," she said. "All these years working as a spy, I've seen a lot of bad sh…stuff." They shared a chuckle at her self-censoring. "I might not want to admit it, but I've gotten used to all the horrible stuff in the world. Dead bodies, human trafficking rings, chemical weapons. Just another day at the office. Does that make me a bad person, thinking like that?"
"I'd be more worried if you weren't asking that question."
She gave a weary smile, then let her gaze drift to the darkness surrounding them like a cloak. In the absence of light, she started seeing old memories drift to the surface. They played like film on a projector, as if they belonged to someone else's life and not hers. Time felt irrelevant in a place like this.
Amid the silence and solitude, Ellen said, "I was thirteen the first time I saw someone die. His head was blown off right in front of me. One second he was fine, and then BANG! His blood is all over the floor." The moment replayed before her over and over, as if she were still that scared teenager. Gregory had tried to protect her, only to get shot for his trouble. "My dad worked at the American Embassy in Bogotá. Revolutionaries stormed the building, took me and several others hostage. They took us into the basement. On our way there, I saw all the bodies of the people they'd killed. Guards, secretaries. The ones who weren't as valuable."
She felt a single tear run down her cheek.
"The thing I remember most is the expressions on their faces. They all looked so scared, so helpless. Every time I close my eyes, I can still see theirs wide open, staring up at me. They're asking why they had to die, why they can't see their loved ones anymore. And…I don't have an answer." The tears flowed freely by now, and she could only watch as the horrors of her past played like a movie.
Ellen felt Cap take her hand in his, and she squeezed it. She felt as if she were adrift in the ocean, in danger of being swept away by the tides at any moment. He was her rock, keeping her anchored and afloat. Being near him felt safe, comfortable.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "No one should ever have to go through that."
She took a deep, shuddering breath, then exhaled. "It feels like my whole life has been swallowed in death and darkness. And you know the worst part? That became my normal. I got so used to it I couldn't even tell what was right or wrong anymore." Ellen turned her head to look at Cap's face, imagining his blue eyes staring back at her. "And then you came into my life. You showed me that I could still see the good in people. That I could hope again. In case we end up trapped here, I just want to say thank you."
"I wanted to thank you, too."
She cocked her head. "Why?"
"Waking up from the ice, living in a whole new century…it's been harder than I want to admit. Almost everyone I knew is dead and buried. Links to my past are gone. You've done so much to help me acclimate, help me feel like this could actually be home. So, thank you. For everything."
"You're welcome."
"And for the record, we are going to get out of here."
Ellen chuckled, his boundless optimism somehow reassuring her. She rested her head on his shoulder as he held her hand, hoping the universe would prove him right. They stayed like that for hours, Cap keeping her awake and Ellen entertaining him with stories about trends from her childhood. Arcades, Cabbage Patch Kids, Super-Sized Meals, the Disney Renaissance. So much of it made him react with confusion that it made her laugh.
"So, I know Michael Jordan is a famous basketball player," Cap said. "And he's playing basketball against…aliens?"
"Mhm," Ellen replied.
"And he's recruited by a bunch of cartoon characters?"
"Yes."
"Including Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck?"
"Correct."
He shook his head. "You said this was a successful movie?"
"It's one of the greatest movies ever made. If you really want to acquaint yourself with modern times, you have to see it."
"I don't know about that."
She laughed. "Okay, we can save that for another day. What else?" Mentally reviewing her home collection, she said, "Ooh, how about this? WarGames?"
"War isn't a game, in my experience."
"Yeah, I get that. But it's a clever title. The movie is about this kid named David who hacks into the government's new supercomputer. He thinks he's playing a game, but he accidentally triggers a doomsday scenario that could start World War 3. He and his girlfriend have to stop the computer before it launches all the nuclear missiles."
After a moment, Cap said, "Sounds interesting."
"Well, if we do ever get out of here, maybe you could watch it." She blinked, suddenly aware she didn't properly finish her sentence. "With me, I mean. Sorry, I don't know why I didn't say that. Maybe you could watch it with me."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Cool." Ellen grimaced, rubbing both knees with her free hand. They'd been kneeling for so long her legs had fallen asleep. The pocket wasn't large enough for her to stand, and the piece of rebar made it impossible to lay down. "Did you ever see–"
She stopped herself, cocking her head to the side as a new noise filtered down to her ears. It sounded like a low rumble, accompanied by scraping. She looked at Cap, who said, "I hear it, too."
Seconds passed, and the noise grew louder and louder. Ellen could hear distant voices, and her heart skipped a beat. Rescue! Clearing her throat, she cried out, "Hello! We're down here!" Cap joined in, and they kept calling out until tiny slivers of light punctured the darkness. The movement above caused dust to shake loose, enough to make Ellen cough. The rumbling and voices seemed to be right on top of them.
Then the largest piece of concrete was lifted away.
A hole appeared above them, like the gates of paradise opening before a person on their deathbed. Ellen blinked as she looked up at the bright light shining down on them, which she realized was a Quinjet's spotlight. The piece of concrete rose on a cable dangling from its belly. A number of faces appeared around the edges of the hole, including Rumlow and Romanoff.
"You two done playing in the basement, yet?" the latter teased.
"Like you wouldn't believe," Ellen replied.
Cap took her in his arms and carried her as he stood up. "Pierce is injured!"
"Copy that," Rumlow said. Tapping his earpiece, he said, "This is Rumlow to med team: standby to receive an injured agent."
Cap looked into Ellen's eyes and asked, "You ready?"
She nodded, gritting her teeth in anticipation. He tensed, then leaped out of the pocket and into the open. The landing made her torso flare with fresh bolts of pain, and she whimpered into his shoulder. With the help of a harness lowered by the Quinjet, they carried her out of the ruined compound. In addition to the STRIKE teams, dozens of agents and almost half a dozen Quinjets had been brought in. She didn't have to ask to know her father gave the order for so many to aid in the rescue.
They took her to a temporary medical suite established in a jungle clearing. Once inside, the medics worked to remove her vest and everything except her tank top. Cap offered to remove the rebar. Gripping her left shoulder, he took hold of the bloodied metal, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. Ellen grabbed his arm, squeezing tight and nodding. He yanked the rebar out in a single motion. Stars flashed in her eyes, the pain so intense it would've made her collapse if he hadn't been holding her steady. She squealed, then started crying from the agony. The medics took over, hauling her onto a table and prepping her for surgery. One of them placed a mask over her mouth and asked her to count down from 100.
She did so, and slowly her vision turned black as the anesthetic kicked in. Just before she went to sleep, she saw Cap in the corner of her eye, standing by the door.
September, 2013…
After the surgery, Rumlow debriefed her about what happened when they confronted Cherganski. She gave her explanation, and he nodded in approval once she privately admitted the real reason for shooting the target. He later told her that he'd personally swept through any of the computers they recovered and made sure nothing could lead back to HYDRA. After that, everyone packed up and left the island. On the way back to the Triskelion, Ellen received a relieved phone call from her father. She assured him everything was fine.
Naturally, Fury put her on medical leave until she recovered. She protested, but realistically there was nothing she could do. So, the next two weeks were spent at home. She took the opportunity to catch up on Parks and Recreation, Breaking Bad, and all the other shows she'd fallen behind on. Traveling around the world as a spy left her little time to binge.
One night, with her feet propped up on the table next to an empty bowl of Kraft Dinner, Ellen sat with her eyes glued to the television. Gasping, she held a hand over her mouth. "Walt, how could you?" she asked, horrified yet mesmerized by what she saw unfold.
Her phone started ringing. Ellen paused her show and answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's Steve Rogers."
She blinked in surprise. "Oh. Hey, Ca–I mean, Steve. H-How's it going?"
"Good, good," he replied. "I wanted to check in, see how your recovery is going."
She glanced at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, then at her bedsheets half pooled on the floor. "About as well as expected. It'll be nice to be back in action."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes a long rest can be a bit…torturous."
"Exactly." Ellen uncrossed her legs and sat forward. "Actually, I'm glad you called. There's a minor issue that's been bugging me. Hopefully you can help me out?"
"Anything I can do," Cap said.
"Perfect. I'm attending a charity dinner next week, and I kind of…need a date?" She chewed on her lower lip, literally perched on the edge of her seat as she awaited his response.
"Oh," he said, sounding mildly surprised.
"It's nothing, really. I usually end up bringing my dad to these things, but he's incredibly busy with work. And now that I'm speaking this out loud, I realize how ridiculous it is. You can just forget I said anything; I'll understand if you don't–"
"Sure, I can do that."
She blinked, her brain struggling to process what she'd just heard. "You-You will?"
"Yeah. It's for a worthy cause, and it gives me an excuse to get out of my apartment."
"Great!" Ellen said. 'Try not to sound too excited, dumbass!' she scolded herself. "It's happening next Wednesday at 7:00."
"Sounds good. I'll pick you up at your place."
"Actually, my whole building's getting fumigated starting on Monday, so I'll be staying at my dad's house. I'll send you the address. And the dinner's black tie."
"Okay. I'll see you Wednesday."
"See you then. Bye." Ellen hung up, staring at the floor in disbelief. She grinned, tapping her phone against her chest as she thought ahead to next week. Maybe there were some positives to having time off.
After parking in her father's driveway, Ellen grabbed the garment bag from her backseat and headed inside. Her father wouldn't be here, as he'd been working longer and longer hours for Project Insight and staying at a hotel near the Triskelion. "Hello?" she called, kicking her shoes off. "Renata?"
The housekeeper appeared from down the hall, drying her hands with a dishcloth. "Ms. Pierce!" She tossed the cloth over one shoulder and wrapped both arms around Ellen in a warm, tender embrace. "So good to see you, darling!"
"It's good to see you, too," Ellen replied, patting the older woman's back. Renata had been a constant in her life since she was eleven. She thought of her as part of the family, a welcome, maternal presence in the wake of her mother's death.
They separated, and Renata looked her up and down. "Look at you: you've grown into such a beautiful woman."
Ellen smiled. "Thank you."
"So, are you excited for your party tonight?"
"Well it's not really 'my' party," Ellen corrected. "But, yeah, I am excited. And I'm actually going with someone. He's meeting me here."
Renata's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ms. Pierce, do you have a date?"
She gave a bashful smile. "Kind of. Not really. It's just dinner, with maybe a bit of dancing."
"Forgive me for saying, dear, but that sounds like a date."
Ellen chuckled, then held up the garment bag. "I was hoping you could help me get ready?"
"Of course, of course!" Renata said, ushering her upstairs.
They spent the next few hours getting her ready. The process reminded Ellen of equipping herself for a mission. Only, instead of putting on goggles and a helmet, she applied eye shadow and styled her hair. And instead of zipping up a tactical vest, Renata zipped the back of her dress. She'd chosen a red cocktail dress with one sleeve that covered her right arm and shoulder, while leaving her left shoulder and arm bare. It matched the colour of her Henna tattoos, and also conveniently covered the scar from the rebar that had impaled her back on that island.
After slipping into a pair of high-heeled sandals, Ellen inspected herself in the mirror. Her hair lay draped over one shoulder, and her lips were painted a dark burgundy. It always felt strange to be dolled up like this. Every time, she compared herself to a Christmas tree propped in the corner for decoration. Combat boots and leather jackets were more comfortable for her.
Walking downstairs into the living room, she heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door, she saw Cap standing there. He wore a black tuxedo, and he held a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Ellen stared, gobsmacked at the sight. While she knew he could look good in almost everything, she didn't know he could look this good.
"Hi," she finally said.
"Hi. I brought you these." He handed her the flowers.
Ellen held them up close and inhaled the fresh scent. "Well, this is the most adorable thing I've ever seen."
"Too much?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. Renata, could you find a vase for these?"
"Of course, dear," the older woman replied, kissing her on the cheek. "Have fun tonight."
Looking back at Cap –or Steve, rather, since they weren't at work– she stepped outside and followed him out to the driveway. Beside her grandfather's mustang was a sleek black Corvette Stingray. "Romanoff let me borrow her car," Steve explained. "I thought it'd be better than driving my motorcycle."
"I think you made the right call," Ellen said, chuckling. He then held open the passenger door for her. She couldn't remember the last time a date had acted like such a gentleman. It must have been his old-fashioned sensibilities at work. They had a pleasant drive, and Ellen grudgingly admitted that Romanoff had good taste in cars. They arrived at the banquet hall and pulled up to the front doors.
Ellen noticed Steve's apprehension as he looked at the building beside them. "We don't have to go inside," she told him. "If this is too much, we can leave."
After a moment, he shook his head. "No, that's okay. Thank you, though."
"Tonight is supposed to be about having a good time, and I couldn't forgive myself if I forced my plus one to be uncomfortable."
He smiled, then asked, "Shall we?"
With a nod, she stepped out of the car. Steve handed the keys to the valet, and they stepped inside. The banquet hall had been set up with tables and chairs around a central dance floor. To their right was a buffet line, and to their left a band played on stage. For the moment, everyone stood around conversing, dressed in their finest suits and dresses. As they casually joined the crowd, people started staring at Steve, whispering among themselves. Even without his shield and uniform, he was one of the most recognizable men in the world.
Ellen glanced at him, noting how he tensed and shifted under the attention. Acting on instinct, she wrapped one arm around his. He looked down at her, and she arched an eyebrow, silently asking if the physical contact was okay. He nodded, and she felt him relax just a bit.
Many of the people started raising their glasses to Steve or nodding to him as they passed. The man was a genuine hero, after all, even without fighting off the Chitauri invasion last year. Up ahead, a handsome man in his forties took notice of Steve, then walked over to him. He held out a hand and said, "Captain. It is a true honour to meet you, sir."
Steve took the proffered hand and shook it. "Thank you. I appreciate it." He paused, staring intently at the man's face. "Have we met before?"
The man smirked. "No, not before tonight. But I believe you knew my great-grandfather quite well. Chester Phillips?"
Steve's eyes lit up. "I knew the colonel had family, but I never expected…"
"William Phillips," the man introduced. "Everyone calls me Bill. Grandad told a lot of stories about you. Said you were the best man he ever served with. He must have repeated your first meeting 100 times, how some scrawny kid from Brooklyn came onto his base to be the Allies' great hope in the war."
Bill and Steve chuckled. "It took some convincing for him to warm up to me," the latter said.
"If he were here now, he'd tell you he couldn't be prouder. Doctor Erskine made the perfect choice."
"That's kind of you to say."
Bill then looked at her and said, "Ellen, always a pleasure. You two have a great evening."
"Good seeing you," she told him as he walked away.
Steve gave her an odd look as they grabbed drinks from a waiter. "Something tells me you knew he'd be here."
"Maybe," she replied with a mischievous smirk. "He and I often see each other at these sort of events. He's actually a sitting senator; most of his wealth goes towards charities like this one."
"That's very noble. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get involved?"
"My grandfather made a lot of money in the stock market in the 60s," Ellen explained. "After he died, I inherited his firm and his fortune. Even though I was twenty at the time, I knew I couldn't possibly use all that money, so I decided to put it to good use. My mom was involved in a lot of charities over the years, so I took up the torch, as it were."
Steve looked impressed. "I'm sure they'd be proud of you. Not many people would be so generous."
Ellen shrugged. "I've always believed you need to invest in the future. The only way to make a better world is to fight for it."
He smiled, and for the first time since they arrived, she felt him starting to enjoy himself. They spent the next few hours conversing, drinking, and availing themselves of the buffet. Bill gave a speech celebrating the charitable contributions of everyone present. He also made a point to toast Steve, which led to a round of applause. Some in the crowd were old enough to have seen him in action back in the war, while the rest knew him by reputation. As they sat together, Ellen saw him awkwardly wave to the hundreds of people celebrating him.
Despite all his accomplishments, he still acted like a humble kid from Brooklyn. No pride, no overconfidence from his legendary achievements. Just a man who sought to do the right thing for its own sake. Having spent so much of her life with raging egotists who often lost sight of the greater good, she felt herself becoming that much more attracted to him.
As the evening wore on, people started congregating on the dance floor while a band played smooth jazz. Ellen and Steve sat next to each other in silence. He wasn't affected by the drinks he'd had all night, courtesy of his regenerative physiology. Meanwhile, she was feeling relaxed and just a bit braver than normal. Must have been the chardonnay.
Rising to her feet, she walked around Steve until she faced him. Holding out a hand, she asked, "May I have this dance, Captain?"
He looked at her, surprised, then at the group of dancing couples. "Are you sure? I haven't…danced in quite a while."
She shrugged. "Maybe you just haven't found the right partner."
Something flashed in his expression, just for a moment. Was it guilt? He quickly masked it and said, "Sure."
He took her hand, and she pulled him over to the dance floor. Holding her right hand in his left, he put his other hand on her waist. The intimacy sent a shiver through her spine, but she didn't feel nervous. Rather, she felt safe. As if the dangers of the world couldn't touch her so long as he stood by her.
For a while, they allowed themselves to sway to the music, taking comfort from each other's presence. Ellen smiled up at him. She'd worn so many masks over the years, becoming different people at different times. It made her question who she really was among all the deceit and subterfuge. Steve made her comfortable, and she could just be herself around him. No need for pretexts or having her guard up. For all her training and sacrifice and an indomitable will forged from years of pain and suffering, the greatest assassin in the world felt vulnerable.
It terrified her, but it also excited her to no end.
"For someone who hasn't danced in a long time, you do it quite well," she said.
"You're not so bad yourself," he replied. "Thanks for inviting me here. To be honest, I was nervous about coming out to a place like this. But now that I'm here, I've been having a great time."
"My pleasure."
He stared down at her, and Ellen couldn't look away from his blue eyes. "As a matter of fact, and I hope I'm not being too forward, I've rather enjoyed spending time with you."
She smiled. "I've enjoyed spending time with you, too."
Everything around them seemed to fade away. Their eyes locked on each other, like two planets locked in each other's orbit, unable to move. Ellen couldn't separate herself from him even if she wanted to. This close, she could feel his heartbeat almost in sync with hers. The scent of his cologne tickled her nostrils. Closing her eyes, she took the plunge and leaned in close, pressing her lips to his in a tender kiss. Soft, probing, testing these unfamiliar waters.
She felt him press his lips into hers, ever so gently.
When they separated, she felt breathless and nervous, searching his face for any hint of what he might be feeling. He smirked, then said, "Now this…I could do all day."
Ellen rolled her eyes back and groaned in embarrassment. "That might just be the worst joke I've ever heard."
They spent the rest of the evening dancing and taking advantage of the buffet. Afterwards, they got into the borrowed Corvette and drove back to her father's house. After opening her door and offering a hand to help her out, Steve walked her to the front door.
"First off, I want to say thank you for being such a gentleman tonight," she said. "Second, I had a really great time tonight."
Steve smiled. "So did I. Thanks for inviting me."
She looked up at him, memories of that kiss on the dance floor fresh in her mind. Not wanting to pressure him, she kissed him on the cheek. "We should go out again, sometime."
"I'd like that very much."
"Good night, Steve."
"Good night, Ellen," he replied before walking back to his car.
Fishing the house key from her purse, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Locking it, she leaned against the door and ran a finger across her lower lip, unable to stop herself from grinning like an idiot.