Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!

Content Warning: Torture, Swearing, and a single racial slur

Recommended Listening: Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd; Fall Into Me by Alev Lenz; O Death by Jen Titus; and Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap


Chapter 11: Up In Smoke

Maggie wanted to throw up or rather throw up again. She hadn't watched him go. It was better for plausible deniability that she didn't. Guy? What guy? No. I have no idea where he went. He was gone when I came back from the wake I was hosting for my friend.

In truth, she'd wanted to throw up in peace. The tension and anxiety, and if she was honest with herself, the outright fear and anger that had been welling in her chest had turned and twisted in her stomach. So as if trying to flush out a poison, her body had decided that the best course of action would be to throw up.

She'd thrown up and cried, and then had walked out into the late afternoon.

By the time she'd made it back to the barn Matt...James...The Winter Soldier...whoever was gone. Stall ten was empty, and there was no trace that it had even occupied for nearly two weeks. You should have known. You should've known who he was. Her mind raced and spun as she thought back over her interactions with the man. She should've seen the signs, should've known there was something different, something wrong with her interactions with him. But she came up blank. There was nothing in their interactions, nothing about what he'd said or done that could've clued her in to his actual identity. He behaved like a lot of her clients and volunteers, a former soldier with PTSD and chronic pain issues, tossed in with substance abuse. She knew a lot of people like that. How was I to know that he was the Winter Soldier, a goddamn cyborg who worked for Hydra? That thought gave her pause. The prosthesis. That prosthesis hadn't been made for wearer comfort or mobility. That had been made for power and strength, with little thought of the user in mind. She'd seen the scars, more like claw marks on his shoulder. Had he tried to dig it out? Had he fought against them? What did any of it mean?

You should call your friend. That's what he said. Hydra was coming for him, and it likely meant they would go through her to do it.

Maggie needed to call Sam. She needed to tell him what she knew what had transpired. She needed to tell him that yes, the Winter Soldier had been camping out in her barn for damn near two weeks, and she'd just found out. That was going to be a fun conversation.

She sighed, heading toward the tack and feed room. She knew all of this, knew that time was of the essence, and that whatever Hydra was going to bring, it was not going to be pretty. She knew of this, so why was she stalling?

Maggie pulled her phone out and dialed in Sam's number. Holding it to her ear, she held her breath as she listened to it ring.

"Come on...come on...answer..." She muttered.

You've reached the voice mailbox of Sam Wilson. Can't come to the phone right now, leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!

"Typical." She muttered before the beep. "Hey! It's me. Uhhh. I think I'm in a bit of a situation. I think you need to come up to the ranch for a visit. Soon. Real Soon. I'm fine, everything's fine. I just...yeah...call me back so I can explain. Talk to you soon, love you. Bye!" She hung up, swearing under her breath.

"Call any time Mags, I'm always happy to talk to you Mags, You know I'll drop everything for you Mags." She muttered in a mocking tone under her breath. "Yeah. Yeah, bullshit." She rolled her eyes.

This isn't just any situation, Mags. Those people are going to hurt you if they get a hold of you. You have to call Sam again. You have to get ahold of him and warn him what's going on. "Okay Okay. I'll call him again after I've finished with evening feed." She set her phone down, picking up the feed bucket.

"Alrighty, ladies and gents who's hungry?"

Maggie turned on the radio and worked quickly, humming to herself. She couldn't get the look of terror in his eyes out of her head. The raw and absolute fear etched on his expression when she'd opened the door. The way he flinched or nearly jerked away when she touched him. He wasn't working for them, he was their prisoner. It was the only explanation for his behavior and for the prosthesis.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a car drove up the driveway to the front of the house. No one pulls in that way. She set the feed bucket on the picnic bench and started up the hill.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, approaching the man and woman dressed in tidy black suits who were emerging from the nondescript black sedan.

"Are you Mrs. Underdhal?" The man asked, his dark hair was slicked back, his eyes obscured by dark sunglasses.

Positioning herself between the duo and the house, Maggie glanced them over. There was nothing that outright screamed danger about them, but something was decidedly off, and for her, that was enough. Where they Hydra? She'd expected more guns and explosions out of the Nazi organization. Okay, so what are you going to do? She cleared her throat, smiling. "I am. What can I do for you, folks?"

"Mrs. Underdhal, We're with the department of homeland security." The woman explained as they both removed and flashed badges, stowing them back away before she could get a good look. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"Can I ask what this is in relation to?"

"There have been sightings of a dangerous fugitive in the area. We've been told you may be able to assist us in our investigation." The woman explained, her blond hair bobbing slightly as she spoke.

"Of course." Maggie nodded in a way she hoped appeared cooperative and helpful. "I'm more than happy to assist you in any way that I can. Unfortunately, I'm headed out for the funeral rosary service this evening for a friend of mine. Can you leave me with your contact information? I'd happily make an appointment to talk with you at your office sometime later tonight or tomorrow."

"Mrs. Underdhal, I don't think you understand the urgency of the situation." The man said shortly.

"I am sorry, under any other circumstance I'd be more than happy to help you right now, but I'm leading the rosary, and I've been friend with Tim's wife Alice for ten years, I introduce them you know, and she's just in such shock right now. I really can't miss it. I'm so sorry." She rushed. "If you give me your phone number, I'll call you as soon as I'm done and we can talk after." It was a dangerous gambit, and she held her breath as the duo glanced at one another. The woman nodded, and the man reached into his pocket, producing a business card.

"When exactly will you be done?" The man asked.

"Service begins at seven, so should be done right around eight. I really do have to go." She said quickly, taking the card. "I'll call you then. Thank you so much for understanding."

"Of course. We look forward to speaking with you very soon."

Maggie nodded, retreating to the porch and going to the front door. She glanced over her shoulder at them, where they were both watching her, motionless. They didn't buy that for a goddamn moment. Closing the door and locking it, she reached for her phone.

It's down in the barn, you moron. Fuck! Her eyes darted to the gun case where the shotgun was stored, fully loaded, and ready to be fired.

She started toward it, her mind bent around the thought. She made it two steps before the door behind her was knocked from its hinges, and she was knocked to the floor, slamming her head against the hardwood floors. No time for quips or brave last stands, she lost consciousness, only vaguely aware of the rough hands that grabbed her.

Maggie awoke moments later to the unfortunate sound of ransacking. She moaned. Blinking, she found she was zip-tied to the kitchen table by her ankles, elbows, and wrists.

"She's awake, Jones." The woman said as Maggie stirred.

There was the further sound of crashing before the man, now identified as Jones, entered the kitchen. "Glad you could join us, Mrs. Underdhal." He commented. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"No. By all means, make yourself at home." She drawled, wincing at the pain throbbing at her hairline.

"Thank you for so generously taking time out of your busy schedule to talk with us, Mrs. Underdhal." Jones sat down across from her, while the unidentified woman walked behind her rifling through the kitchen drawers. "Or may I call you Magdalene?"

"I'd prefer if Ms. Ramirez if it's all the same to you two, lovely people." She answered.

"Of course. Ms. Ramirez." Jones nodded, producing a folder from his briefcase. "We're sorry that we're forced to talk in such circumstances, but I'm afraid you've been mixed up in something much bigger than you realize, and as I mentioned before, time is of the essence." Jones glanced behind her. "Williams, have you made your selections."

"I have." She answered. Coming up behind her, Williams set several kitchen implements on the table: a marble rolling pin, a meat tenderizer, a rubber mallet, and several knives ranging from a paring knife to a clever.

"Oh, this is a pick your own torture device adventure, that's cost-effective. I'd imagine Hydra's had some budget cutbacks recently," Maggie drawled.

"Very clever, Ms. Ramirez," Jones smirked.

Maggie's skin crawled. She wanted to punch the smarmy little smile off his face out, her hands were clenched into fists, her fingernails creating small crescent-shaped indentations in her palms. Where the fuck is Sam? God. Did he get her voice mail? Had he been trying to call her back? Her mind raced, even as she tried to stay focused and in the moment.

"Now. We have it on good authority that you were harboring this man." Jones said, opening the file folder pushed a glossy photograph across the table for her to look at.

It was a photo of James. He was wearing a military uniform, an American military uniform. Maggie surveyed it carefully. The photograph, that photograph, she'd seen it before. "I'm sorry. But no. I haven't seen that man before in my life," She said, glancing up at Jones, who was watching her like a hawk.

"Oh, Ms. Ramirez, you're going to have to do better than that." He pushed another photo across the table toward her. It was a grainy photo of her and Bill, with the back of James's head just in view.

When had this been taken? How long had Hydra had tabs on the place? Her head spun. She blinked a few times. All she could see was James, in the outbuilding, the fear radiating off him as she'd been working on him, and the pain he'd been in. The absolute horror that had been driving him to run. James was afraid of these people, of Hydra, and she should be too. What was she going to do? What could she do? If she didn't help these people, she was dead. If she helped these people, she was still going to be dead. This was a lose-lose scenario for everyone involved. Stall. Stall as long as you can. Sam's coming for you. It was a long shot, but what was her alternative?

"Sorry." Maggie began slowly, trying to bend her voice into the sweetest southern accent she'd never had as a native Texan. "That hit to the head must've done a number on me. But you're talking about Matt?" She asked, glancing between Jones and the photograph. "That's Matt. Two tour combat veteran in Afghanistan. He's been volunteering for me for close to six months." She met the man's gaze squarely. She wasn't sure if he was buying the dumb farm girl routine or not, but she was going to milk that angle for all it was worth.

"Try again, Ms. Ramirez." He put down another photograph, this time with James's face in the frame.

"I just told you that's Matt." She repeated adamantly.

"Of course, of course, it is," Jones answered sweetly. "And with you, that's Bill, correct? And this is Mike, and Mitchell, and Jonny and Bridge and James, and of course, I couldn't forget Suzanne." He pushed several other photographs of various volunteers and clients, each with the James just barely in the frame. "A number of them with prior's or pending legal matters. A few with children and families." A look of horror must have crossed her face because he smiled. "Yes, I thought that might rattle your memory a little bit. Of course, I've saved the best for last." He placed a photo, a recent photo of Sam on top. "You thought we wouldn't know that your husband was involved with a known associate of Captain America?" He paused for dramatic effect. "It would be a shame if we had to get anyone else involved because you were unwilling to cooperate."

She focused down on the photographs, her jaw gritted. I'm going to die. It wasn't so much a thought as a feeling deep in her gut. I'm going to die, but others don't have to. He'd just said as much. They might not spare her, but if she cooperated and gave them the information they were looking for, they wouldn't hurt anyone else. And you're going to trust the Nazi motherfucker who has you tied to a chair? No. She didn't believe him, but she had to do something, didn't she? She had to at least try to do something. If she was going to die, shouldn't she go out being brave? Shouldn't she go out trying to protect those she cared about? What did she owe The Winter Soldier? Fair was fair, she'd patched him up, and he'd run off Roberts. She didn't owe that man anything. Goddamnit, why hadn't Sam picked up his phone?

"What do you owe this man? Your life? The life of your clients and friends? Do not throw everything you've built here away for him. Is he really worth it?" He continued.

Maggie focused down on the photo of Sam. He hadn't aged at all since the last time she'd seen him. He still had that kind expression that he always used when he was talking to people he cared about, the expression he'd used when talking to Riley, to her too. God. Why hadn't she called him as soon as James had left? Why had she given him a head start? Would they kill Sam? The Winter Soldier hadn't been able to kill him or Captain America. They had a good chance of surviving whatever Hydra threw at them, right? Was that a chance she could take? Even then. If Sam had a good chance of survival, what about the rest of them? Bill, Mike, Suzanne, and the rest? James had Molly and Steph to worry about.

Maggie took a deep breath, looking up at Jones. "I help you, you leave them alone." Her voice shook. "Right?"

"That depends on how helpful you are."

Right. That was the answer she needed. "I don't know anything worth your time." She said flatly.

"Oh. Come come, that's not true. You've just spent time with one of the world's most deadly operatives. I'm sure you have plenty to share," Jones smirked. "Where was he headed when he left your property this afternoon?

"I don't know," Maggie answered.

Jones said nothing but nodded to Williams, who rounded the table and stood behind her chair.

"Let's try again." He continued after a moment. "Where is he going?"

"I told you assholes, I don't know." She snapped.

Jones nodded again to Williams, who picked up the rolling pin and weighed is speculatively in her hands. It had been a wedding gift from Riley's Great-Aunt Millie. The racist bitch had called Maggie a beaner at the wedding when Good Ol' Aunt Mille had thought Maggie couldn't hear. Still, the rolling pin was expensive and heavy-duty, and unfortunately was now going to be used for something more than tortillas and pie crusts.

"I'm afraid that's not the answer we're looking for." He said. "And time really is of the essence. So if you're not going to cooperate, we're going to have to hurt you until you start giving us the answers we want."

"Then start asking me questions I know the answers to." She shot back.

"Give us something we can work with then."

Maggie rolled her eyes. This was going nowhere slowly, yet they were the ones that kept saying that this was all time-sensitive. She looked back down and focused on the photo of Sam and then back up at Jones, who watched hawkishly across the table. They'd been watching her. They knew her routine, her patterns, who was coming in and out of the Ranch. Had they been watching her since Sam had shown up on the news helping Captain America? Had Hydra herded James to her ranch and then proceeded to watch him while he recovered from whatever the hell he was tripping on? It was all too convenient that the day Roberts and his guys come out to burn the place to the ground, Hydra goons roll up and decide that she needed to be tied down and interrogated. She was being used but wasn't entirely sure how, and that led to so many other questions that she didn't have the time to think about.

"You are aware, studies have shown that torture is ineffective, right? Like that's a thing, you should be aware of." She said shortly. "So when I tell you that I have nothing of value to offer you, you really should just take me at my word. This is about as truthful as you're going to get for the rest of the evening."

It was the bravest thing she could think of to say. Was she being smart? No, probably not. Was she making the right decision? Again, no, probably not. But then again, the opportunity to make different choices to avoid this entire situation had already passed. Now she had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

She could still see James's expression, his bright pricing blue eyes riddled with pain and fear and anger and terror. He'd killed people, he'd murdered people for Hydra. He'd very nearly killed Captain America, it had been all over the news. But when he'd been in her barn, he'd merely been a sick, frightened man. He hadn't lifted a finger to hurt her and had done more than his fair share to help her. He wasn't the one who had her tied to a chair, prepared to torture and, in all likelihood, kill her. There was no guarantee that if she cooperated that they would stop with her. She just had to rely upon Sam to make sure her people were safe. Now her only job was to stall long enough to raise the alarm.

"Oh, I'm well aware." He motioned to Williams, who brought the rolling pin down on her left hand with a resounding 'smack.'

Maggie gasped, the impact sucking her breath away. "I don't know where he's gone." She said through gritted teeth.

Jones nodded, and Williams brought the rolling pin down again, a little harder. Maggie screamed.

"I. Don't. Know." She bit out, her eyes watering.

"Get creative, Ms. Ramirez. Context clues if you will."

"You mother fuckers think this is an English class? Like context clues are really going to-" She screamed as Williams brought the rolling pin down again. This was restraint. Maggie knew that this was restraint, and she also knew intuitively that their restraint wasn't going to last much longer. "He took a jacket." She managed after a moment.

Jones and Williams exchanged glances at one another. "See?" Jones said, voice dripping with condescension. "You are useful."

"I mean he also took some swim trunks and flip flops. Though how that arm fares in water, I couldn't say." Maggie bit out sarcastically.

Willams dragged the chair back away from the table and stepped between her and Jones. "You think this is funny?" She asked, punching Maggie first in the face and then several times in the stomach.

Maggie dry heaved, gasping for air, coughing and choking on saliva and blood.

"All right, Williams. That's enough." Jones waved her off.

"Appreciate the chivalry." Maggie drawled.

"Well. You can't very well answer our questions if your head isn't in the right place."

"Actually, I think you should hit me a couple more time, It helps me think better." It was the only thing she could do to think through the pounding in her skull and the pain shooting from her stomach and chest and arm. She'd taken worse beatings in bar fights before, only then she'd been drunk. Now she was gravely and unfortunately sober, and these assholes wouldn't even give her a bottle to smack them with.

Williams responded in kind, with several more blows around the face and to the chest and stomach. "Enough!" Jones called after a moment. Then switching into Russian dictated quick instructions to Williams.

The woman nodded and departed from the kitchen. Only after she'd gone, Jones rose and walked around the table to where Maggie was tied. He picked up the rolling pin that Williams had left and again weighed it in his hands. There was still flour dust on it from the last time she'd made tortillas. The kitchen table that wasn't covered in photos from Jones's file was littered with party supplies and extra boxes of tinfoil and Saran Wrap.

"Now. While your friend and Captain America might have dismantled SHEILD, I still have to report to my superior officers."

"Then why the fuck are you wasting your time with me?" She asked.

"You have more strategic value than you realize." He answered, before bringing down the rolling pin on top of her left hand.

"Fuck you, Fuck Hydra." She snarled, tears streaming down her face, her breath hitching in her chest as she tried to suck down air.

"You really think that we needed information from you?" Jones asked.

"Sure does seem that-" He brought the rolling pin down again before she could finish what she was saying.

This time she just screamed. The pain was white-hot and blinding, and Maggie felt light-headed. She couldn't feel her fingers, and most of her hand and wrist through the pain, never a good sign. She blinked at Jones, her vision blurry, and she could tell by the look on his that he was enjoying this. Then is it struck her. She was never a strategic intelligence target. She was bait. Who she was supposed to lure, and who they were looking to trap, but she, Magdalene Ramirez was going to suffer, and probably die in a pointless attempt to either capture the Winter Soldier or kill Sam and Captain America.

In the end, she was just going to be collateral damage. This was going to be all for nothing. What else is new? She hadn't done anything that had mattered. She couldn't save the Ranch, she couldn't help the people she was supposed to be supporting and helping, she couldn't save her relationship with Sam, hell she couldn't even save herself.

"Ahh. See now you're starting to get it." Jones smiled.

"He's not going to let you take him, and Sam Wilson and Captain America are going to make sure you pay for this." Maggie managed weakly. It was the best she could come up with. "In the end, you're just going to lose."

"We'll see." He said, bringing the rolling pin down on her wrist, just below the joint.

Maggie screamed, the pain overwhelming. Then, there was the smell of smoke that started to fill the air and choked her lungs. Her vision blurred, tunneling as she tried to focus on the smug grin of the man who loomed over her.

This is it. This is how it's going to end. She realized. She wasn't sure how she should feel. Relief? Anger? Resignation? I did everything that I could. There isn't anything else I could've done. It was a pallid reassurance.

Mags. Mags you have to come down, you're going to fall.

She jerked her head up, glancing around the now empty kitchen, which was rapidly filling with smoke. "Riley?" She gasped out.

I'm here, Mags. I'm here, but you have to stay with me.

"I want to stay with you."

I'm not going anywhere. You're going to be okay. It's okay. None of this is your fault. It's okay.

Maggie smiled, a wave of euphoria or relief washed over her. As if a weight was being lifted off her shoulders. She was done, it was over, and there was nothing she could do about it. She exhaled slowly and welcomed the darkness as unconsciousness took her.


I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know it was a rough one! Next time we get a little bit of resolution (And some answers)! Let me know what you think! As always R&R!