Quick note: This is an offshoot of my main story Nightmare. You can probably read this without that but there may be some context missing. Anyway, please enjoy!
00:30 17th Dec 1991
"So, what do you think?"
Looking around the scene the signs, no matter how subtle, were there. The burnt-out vehicle worked to hide a whole catalogue of evidence but the scuffed snow outside the car was enough to signify a struggle. A few metres down the road she had discovered a bullet casing, held now between her fingertips, and as Lizzy looked down to it she considered her response.
"You're right," she told Fury, handing the casing to him. "This was a hit."
Nodding, solemnity pursing his lips as he inspected the casing, he sighed. "What did you tell the kid?"
Crossing her arms, attempting to hold warmth fast to her, she shrugged. "I told him there was an accident," letting her eyes close against the memory of grief overwhelming Tony's youthful features, she continued listlessly. "Right now, that's all he needs to know."
Sparing her a sidelong glance, he motioned for the nearest forensic to take the casing. Watching the darkened metal be slipped into the plastic bag, he murmured to her; "Give it a few years, you might regret that."
The future did not concern her; the problem lied in what she had to deal with right now. "What's the point in telling him if we don't know who did this?" She pointed out sharply, "or even why?"
Grimly, Fury watched her silently. "You too close to this, agent?"
"No," this was her job – nothing more. Taking a centring breath, reorienting herself in this belief, Lizzy continued in a more careless tone. "What do we know?"
"Not much," he told her sweepingly, "trail's cold enough they're not looking to send anybody after 'em." Her eyes snapped to his then, mouth opening to immediately question this decision despite its origin likely being far from him. "But," he started quickly, cutting off the dissent he could sense coming, "you've got a free pass to look into this."
This needed to be looked into. It was unfair to Tony, to Maria, to Howard, to leave this in its state of mystery. They deserved answers, an explanation - an attempt at the least. Lizzy knew this, but she also knew that few ever got what they truly deserved. A no quickly formed upon her lips, agitation scratching at her skin – begging her to move on.
Lizzy was a transient being; she moved from place to place, doing what work she could with her new skill-set, returning only when Shield called for her. There was something terrifying that welled inside when she lingered in a place too long. Already, Tony had asked her to stay – remain with him when everyone else had been taken away. She couldn't say no to him, but she could to this.
"I-" she began, resolved in her decision, only to be cut off by an errant thought invading her mind; she had never gotten answers. She still remained in the dark – haunted, however far she pushed them down, by endless unanswered questions. Could she really leave Tony with those same constant uncertainties? "I'll look into it." She told him, surprising even herself.
"Alright," Fury told her off-handedly. The weight of her decision clearly not resonating so heavily on him as it did her. "You take the lead, contact me if you need anything."
Eyes turning back to the still smoking vehicle before her, she sucked in a breath and nodded.
The next few hours had been a mess of investigation. There was very little to go on; Fury had been right, the trail was almost frozen but she had experience enough to chip away at even this mystery.
Any footage of the incident had been wiped, the cameras themselves destroyed by what she gathered was a bullet. This had left her with further questions; to the untrained eye the mess of the hit looked enough like an accident to discount it as such. To anyone with experience, however, it was obvious enough what had happened. Why, then, would they bother destroying the footage?
She had since learned what cargo the Stark's were transporting, the knowledge that they had thought to make more serum agitating her beyond all reason. This knowledge did, however, present a new suspicion to her. The serum had been a constant fascination of Hydra's; it was not much of a leap to assume that they had stolen what Howard had managed to synthesise.
This suspicion, despite setting her skin crawling, did provide her with leads. There were safe-houses, more akin to abandoned warehouses, that she knew Hydra used on a less than regular basis. Secure locations that she had never bothered to burn down; the thought of re-entering their territory abhorrent.
Even now, perched on a shadowed ledge overlooking the safe-house nearest the scene of the hit, she felt entirely afraid. The tips of her fingers were tingling, gripping her pistol close to her figure, as she flinched at each passing noise. There were several moments where she almost gave in, turned and fled and allowed Tony to believe her mistruths forever. Unfortunately, she had dipped far enough into this unravelling mystery that she felt entirely entitled to some kind of answer.
Two large, sleek cars pulled into the deserted lot then. Their mere newness and size so unsubtle she wondered how Hydra had remained so low-profile for so very long. Their headlights were quickly cut as the cars rolled to a stop, a moment of silence allowed to stretch before the doors clicked open. Men piled forth, most carrying weapons – all carrying a sombre, almost dreadful air.
"Soldier?" One man called in harsh Russian, voice pluming before him against the harshness of the night.
Curiosity began to win out over cautiousness. She shifted closer, feet soft against the snow laden ledge. What were they doing? The scope she were looking through was limited in its field of vision, but it allowed her see the trepidation forming on each face as a figure exited the warehouse.
"Mission report?" One of them was confident at least, the order spoken with a severity that indicated power. So, he's in charge, she gathered. Focusing on this man, hoping to glean more from him than the others, she felt her eyebrows pull together. "Mission report?" This man was getting impatient, not used to repeating orders.
The new figure looked down to their feet, incoherent words falling from them.
"Soldier, mission report?" A new anxiety infected the leader's surety, a gun now ready in his hand.
Finally, the figure gave in to the repeated questioning "He, he called me…" She leant forward, the entire mystery pulling her in despite the danger so close before her. "He called me Barnes... Sergeant Barnes ."
Immediately, she turned the scope to this new figure.
A gasp escaped her at the sight; too loud.
Her hands seemed to freeze up, the scope slipping from her fingers and pinging against rocks as it escaped her. Much too loud. She jumped from her open spot on the ledge, trying to find cover and quickly.
Ducking under the closest cover she could find, a half-wall closer to the group than she even was before, she pressed her back against the wall. What the fuck is going on? The thought kept careening through her mind. Panic set in quickly, breath escaping at erratic intervals sending her vision blurred.
"Spread out, find them." The barked orders confirmed that her cover was blown.
Burying all the strangeness now running relentlessly through her mind as deeply as she could, intent on surviving long enough for at least some answers, she listened as a pair of footsteps approached to her left. As long as it wasn't him, she would be fine.
As they turned the corner to her hiding spot they managed a yelp before a gargle of blood burst past their lips. The agent's stunned expression jolted into fear as she pulled the knife from his neck and let him fall.
Leaving the body, she ducked back behind the wall and hurried around the corner. She was severely outnumbered; picking them off one by one was the safest option. The first few went down easily but as time stretched by they became more organised. The last pair of agents approached from either side of her cover, cornering her quickly. Cursing under her breath she sprang forward and threw herself into the fight.
Kicking the ankles of the man approaching on her right, she barely managed to dodge the shot from the man on her left. The muzzle flash disoriented her, her eyes blinking against sudden stars, and her attackers took the opportunity to crack a punch across her face.
Lizzy recovered quickly. Spitting the sudden blood from her mouth, she moved back into an offensive position immediately. A new gunshot rang through the air and whilst Lizzy struggled to discern the source she quickly realised that she had been the target. The pain in her shoulder was indication enough that the shot had been successful but she was unable to bask in the pain.
The agents that had cornered her heaved her up, the booming voice of their leader harshly warning that they needed her alive as she watched him force Bucky's gun down. Somehow the wound hurt more knowing that it was his bullet now in her shoulder. Despite the pain, fatigue, and fog of confusion, she still struggled against the men now holding her.
Her struggle was for nothing.
They brought her before their leader, releasing her with a shove to the dusty ground before him. Full of self-importance, this leader moved slowly towards her; each languid step filled with victory. It was impossible to track his movements, however. Lizzy's eyes could not stop moving to the man behind him. The resemblance was unmistakable, surface level changes doing nothing to obscure features that she would never forget.
He watched her apathetically, familiar eyes watching the scene unfold with an unrecognisable steeled expression. The uncertainty she had previously heard in his voice had retreated entirely from his features.
It couldn't be him, could it?
A grip upon her injured shoulder pulled her attention back to their leader. Following her previous gaze he looked back to the man behind him. Pressing his thumb into Lizzy's wound, the leader smiled darkly as she yelled in pain. "How do you American's say?" He asked, thick accent bleeding into the words. "The cat is out of the bag."
Wrenching herself away from him, she sent a wave of power behind her. The use of her power threatened to drain her entirely, her avoidance of using it proving more than a mistake in this unexpected moment. Gritting her teeth she held on to consciousness despite the pounding in her skull. She had hoped even this small distraction to the men flanking her would give her time to deal with their leader, but he seemed to have anticipated her movement.
Sparks lit up the night as electricity coursed through her, a buzzing baton pressed into her stomach. The pain ended quickly, the leader moving from her and taking clear joy in the way she collapsed forwards.
"Take her," he ordered carelessly to the two recovering behind her.
She needed a better plan.
Letting them grab her once more, she put up a small fight; nothing threatening but enough of a distraction to allow her grab a knife from the man on her left. But she needed more.
Gritting her teeth, she looked up. "Sergeant Barnes?" The beat of silence that followed reassured her that she had unsettled the agents surrounding her well enough. "That's what he called you?"
Bucky watched her silently, the slight crease in his brow giving her some hope. However much she wanted to, this reaction was not what she needed to focus on. The leader needed distracting further, his electric baton making him her greatest threat.
"I wonder why he would call you that?" She pushed. His eyes shifted from her to the leader beside him before looking down to his feet.
She was not afforded time to consider this reaction before a punch cracked across her jaw. They were playing directly into her hands without even realising. Forcing herself to speak through the fresh throbbing in her jaw, she raised her eyebrows and looked back up. "Now they're trying to shut me up," this imitation Bucky looked back to her, "what do you think it is they don't want me to tell you?"
He shifted on his feet, uneasiness sweeping through his frame, but even that small movement was enough. The leader's attention shifted entirely to Bucky, weapon raising in silent threat.
Lizzy didn't have time to observe the entire interaction, however, forcing her focus to her own predicament. Taking advantage of the sudden lack of attention upon her, she struck the man on the left. The knife made short work of his neck and he was already collapsing as she turned to the agent on her right. Slamming the knife into his stomach and twisting it sharply, she pulled a gun from his figure. Threat neutralised she turned to the leader of the pack.
The gun fired before he had managed to fully turn to face her.
Having now emptied the area of enemies, Lizzy was forced to turn her weapon on Bucky.
Looking down the barrel of his gun, she tried to steady her hand. "Put the gun down," she tried to order, regretting the words entirely as his grip tightened upon his weapon.
This next move was going to be risky.
She dropped her weapon, not bothering to look as it clattered to the ground beside her. Clearly taken aback, he readjusted his grip; a final look to the leader fallen beside him before settling on her.
Keeping her hands aloft, she used her fingers to gesture to the fallen men. "They wanted me alive," she breathed out, watching his eyes narrow. "You can't kill me if you want to keep working for them."
Bucky said nothing. He didn't pull the trigger. He didn't lower the weapon.
"And if you don't want to keep killing people you don't even know for Hydra, then you're gonna need help." It was hard to read his steeled expression, but she could sense that he was wavering. Pressing her hands to her chest, unsure how useful her sincerity would be in this moment, she continued. "I can help you… I-I worked for them too."
He faltered visibly then. She needed to capitalise on this indecision.
She wouldn't leave unless he was with her. She would wait here all night. She would reason with him for hours. She would let Hydra take her back. She would find a way; whatever it took.
Lizzy chanced a step forward, halting immediately as he tightened his grip upon the weapon.
"They'll send more people here." Maintaining eye contact, hands aloft, she continued. "So, unless you wanna work for them forever, we need to go now."
His voice, just like everything else, was unmistakeable. "I don't know you." I don't trust you, is what he clearly meant, but the words still lanced through her painfully.
Composing herself, a shaking breath pulled through parted lips, she nodded. "No, you don't." Thinking through next steps in this predicament of a conversation, she took a heavy pause before reiterating. "Howard, he called you Sergeant Barnes." Another visible falter, gun dropping half an inch before he hefted it back up, "I-I…" she stuttered, struggling. "I know who that is."
Bright headlights swung into view, approaching rapidly. "Here they are," she pointed out – supressing a ripple of fear and standing firm despite her mind telling her to run.
His eyes darted to the approaching vehicle before turning more resolutely back to her. The gun finally lowered.
He rushed forward and snatched her arm harshly. Her wounded shoulder tugged painfully and she yelped in obvious discomfort. He didn't let up. "I don't trust you." He told her quietly, as though the occupants of the approaching vehicle would somehow hear his betrayal.
Holding eye contact, despite the pain in her shoulder begging her squeeze them shut, she shook her head. "You don't have to."
He nodded once, pulling her harshly out of sight.
Hey!
Hope you enjoyed this branching reality from Lizzy's normal universe!
This little story was a celebration of 200 followers on my story nightmare, so thanks to everyone over there! This is planned to be a one-shot but if people would like to see more of this reality I may come back to it!
Please let me know what you think :)
LotsofLava
