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!

Serious SERIOUS TW: suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, self-harm ideation, blood, nightmares, medical trauma, graphic medical trauma, torture, and implied medical torture

Recommended Listening: Born To Die by Lana Del Ray, Outside by Hollywood Undead, Enter Sandman by Metallica, Until It Sleeps by Metallica, Ghost by mystery skulls


Ch 26: Fail Safes

He was in the chair. They had him strapped down. There was the buzz of the electrodes, and just above the hum, he could hear the words being spoken. He didn't need to hear them to know what they were. They were dragging him back, dragging him down, stripping away his humanity, and leaving only the weapon, leaving only the Soldier.

'Your name is Bucky Barnes. You were born March 10, 1917. Your parents' names are George and Winifred Barnes. You had three sisters: Abigail, Rachel, and Becca Barnes.' He tried to focus, tried to fight it, tried to cling to what he knew to be facts, to be truths. 'You're best friends with Steve Rogers. You have to get back to Steve. You have to get back home, get back to your home, to your family, to your Steve.'

He could hear the screams, his screams, mixed with the screams of those the Soldier had killed, those that he had killed. He could see the shining eyes of the doctors, no not doctors, butchers, who operated on him.

He could feel himself being pushed down, locked away, just below the surface, screaming, begging, pleading, bargaining, fighting with every ounce of strength as they pulled him apart, and pushed him out of his own mind.

The pain grew and swelled, even as he fought. He knew if he surrendered the horrible things, they would make him do. But he would surrender, he would always surrender.

Then there was nothing.

'Soldier'

'Ready to comply.'

He awoke. Sitting bolt upright, a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. He wiped at it with a shaking hand. He winced as he moved to throw his legs over the side of the bed, his back and shoulder twinging, a sharp pain shooting up and down his spine.

Your mind and body are not your own.

Since he had found out about Becca, what dreams he'd had, what memories he'd recovered, they'd not been pleasant ones.

He remembered the chair, the electrodes, the pain. He remembered the fight. He remembered how he'd given in, how he'd given in every single time.

He exhaled, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, he tried to ease the pounding in his skull just behind his eyes.

Your mind and body are not your own.

It was only a matter of time before they crawled back inside his skull. It didn't even have to be Hydra. Anyone could control the Winter Soldier. All they needed were the right words. He wasn't safe. The world wasn't safe. He'd managed to break Hydra's conditioning once, would he be able to do it again if they sunk their claws back into him?

"Ahhh." He cried out, trying to find a way to release the pressure behind his eyes, find a way to make it stop, to make it all stop.

He was crying. He could feel the tears as they fell, the salt stinging the skin around his eyes. It was a release of a sort, but it wasn't a permanent fix. The pressure would return and with it a headache that would linger for days, threatening to crack his skull into two.

How long could he go on like this? How long could he possibly keep this up? Trying to stay one step ahead of Hydra, and keep Steve, Romanoff, and whoever else was looking for him two steps behind him. He couldn't run from Hydra much longer, and he couldn't hide from Steve forever. This wasn't sustainable, not in the long term.

I honestly thought I'd be dead or captured by now.

It was a grim thought, but honest. He was lucky that he'd managed to evade capture this long. He'd certainly had his close calls.

Was someone keeping people off his trail? He was a master assassin and expert covert ops agent, but he'd made several crucial mistakes, mistakes that should've gotten him captured or killed.

It could be either Romanoff or Steve; they both had that capacity but would do so for vastly different reasons. Romanoff had likely figured out by now that he didn't want to be found, and as a professional courtesy, was eliminating possible threats. Steve, on the other hand, well, Steve would keep people off his tail so he could find him first.

Steve.

He remembered Steve. Steve was the first thing he'd remembered. It was what had broken the Hydra programming. He could remember that moment, that second that he'd broken the hydra programming, as the helicarrier was collapsing around them. It had been like waking from a horrible nightmare, only to find that he was the monster with blood on his hands. He'd woken up many more times since then, drenched in sweat, remembering what he'd done, everything that he'd done, being reminded over and over of what he had done, of all the horrors he'd committed, all of the blood on his hands.

Then the fall. Steve had fallen, and he'd gone after him. He hadn't been sure why, he still wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to drag him from the river, but there was something, some part of him, some compulsion to protect Steve.

Was that why he'd kept on running? Why he didn't want Steve to find him now? Was he trying to protect Steve, protect someone that Bucky Barnes, that he, had loved from finding out the truth about what he'd become? Was he trying to protect himself from what Steve might do if he knew everything that he had done as the Winter Soldier? Or was it the simple reality that just like that, Hydra could take it all away again? He didn't know if Steve would accept the dangers or understand the realities of who or what he was. The man had been prepared to let the Winter Soldier bludgeon him to death. He wasn't going to accept what he had done, not going to accept that things were different now. They had to be different because as long as he had Hydra's programming in his head, there was always the potential that he could be compromised.

So what was the fail-safe option? Put a bullet in his skull the moment that there seemed to be a chance that might happen? It wouldn't guarantee anything. Hydra had brought people back from the dead before.

This is the fail-safe option.

He hated admitting that, even to himself. Despite everything, running and hiding was still the best way to protect himself and others from what the winter soldier was capable of.

There was no fail-safe option. There was no respite. He would run and hide, and then when it came to it, he would fight to make sure Hydra never took him alive.


She awoke. She was in her own bed, not at the compound, not at the tower, but at home, her home, the house on the ranch. The windows were open, the light breeze stirring the gossamer curtains, casting shadows in the moonlight.

Maggie glanced around, her shirt clinging to her clammy, sticky skin. "Mags."

She turned her head toward the doorway where the voice had come from. That voice, she knew that voice. Scrabbling from the bed, she wrenched the door open and found that whatever had called her name was gone.

" Mags?"

She blinked, peering cautiously out of the bedroom door. "Riley?" She called out, her voice shaking.

" Mags? Where are you?"

" Riley!" She rushed down the hallway to the stairs.

" You have to find me, Mags." The voice called, and Maggie slipped and slid down the too slick wooden steps.

" Riley. Where are you? You have to let me find you!" She cried out, stumbling through the living room, the ofrenda intact and where it should be, pictures of Riley and Sam on the walls, into the kitchen where Riley's voice was calling her.

Maggie stopped, she could hear a kettle boiling on the stove and the creak of the hinges on the swinging door between the kitchen and the living room. The smell of rot and mold and decay filled her senses. Her eyes, which had adjusted to the dark hallways of her house, blinked as they tried to filter what was now emerging before her.

" Thank you for joining us, Ms. Ramirez. I'm sure there is a lot you could teach us." She turned to see a face emerge from the dark corner. The man, the man who'd tortured her, who'd set her house on fire.

"No." She shook her head, backing away, she was stopped as she backed into a wall.

Whirling around, she looked up into the face of the Winter Soldier, his cold hard eyes staring down at her, his jaw clenched, his expression unfeeling. "James." She breathed.

" No. Not James. But the Winter Soldier has been invaluable to our mission, and now you will too."

Maggie backed away, just enough to see the Winter Soldier hold up her phone. Riley 's audio letters playing, or bits of them anyway.

" James. You have to listen to me." There was a pleading in her voice as she back away from him.

He didn't respond. Instead, she was grabbed by cold hands, and a sharp sheering pain shot through her body, making her double over even as she fought against the hands dragging her toward the table.

The table, she was back in the bunker, back in their operation room, their torture chamber. She looked down to find she was covered in blood, her blood, a metal hand, a metal prosthesis dangling from her left forearm. She screamed, struggling against the men trying to haul her onto the operation table.

There in the corner stood the Winter Soldier, watching her with those cold, unfeeling eyes.

" Help me!" She tried to scream but was gagged.

They pulled her back onto the operation table, leather straps securing her to the hard cold metal surface, the sound of whirling blades and scraping metal filled her ears even as she screamed.

The Soldier did nothing.

Maggie jerked awake, her 5 o'clock alarm pulling her from her dream. Reaching blindly for the clock, she turned off the alarm and fell back against the pillows pulling the microfleece blanket back over her head. Her nightmares had been getting worse and had only picked up in intensity since she'd gotten back from Argentina. Gone were the days of picnics in the park, and root beers at the soda fountain. Now she was dreaming of the Winter Soldier, dreaming of all the terrible things he'd done, and had been done to him.

I can't imagine why.

She stretched, sitting back up, letting the blanket drop around her waist, and glanced around at the books and papers scattered across the bed, nearly obscuring the blankets and comforter below. The more sensitive material was locked away in her desk, and since the move from the tower to the compound, she'd insisted on biometrics for all her locking mechanisms. She wasn't going to take any chances with what she'd found. She should destroy them, but something was stopping her, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. So she'd locked the files away, but she couldn't lock what she knew out of her brain.

She couldn't get what she'd seen out of her brain, She couldn't un-know what she had learned, and it was driving her to the edge of sanity.

Natasha warned you. Warned you not to cross the point of no return, because it meant that you could never go home, and now you know she's right.

Go home? That was practically laughable. She would be lucky to even get out of this alive at the rate she was going presently.

Maggie groaned, hauling herself from the bed, changed into her jogging clothes, and pulled on her running shoes before grabbing her identification and apartment key, phone and headphones, and heading out the door.

It was still early, so she'd be running with the legion of people out at the compound, but it was one of the many things she found that she liked about the transition between the Avengers tower and the new Avenger's compound. Something about being in skyscrapers, looking down at the city below, had made her feel completely and utterly alone. Now, closer to the ground, and with most of the compound sprawled out over several acres, she was more likely to see and interact with people.

Of course, since the avengers owned the property vis-a-vis Stark Industries, she had free range of the entire space. So she could take early morning workouts without being snatched up by Hydra agents, and without having to clear her daily schedule with her security detail.

Turning on her running playlist, she started off on a brisk jog. The exertion helped her focus, helped her clear her mind, and she needed all the help she could get when it came to that department.

The weather was fair, and while cool, it hadn't rained overnight, so the path was dry. The trees were green and lush, and the grass and brush along the running trail were thick and dense as the early morning fog rolled off the landscape and around her as she ran. It reminded her of the ranch. That was another reason she liked it. It reminded her of home. She was closer to home than she'd been in over a year, but it hurt to even think about how far away from that life and that world she was.

Better than all the other things you could think about.

And she was back to her regularly scheduled program. Her brain and her environment weren't giving her much to work with. It was either think about the horrible nightmare, think about the horrible things she'd learned, or think about the horrific truth that she was never going home.

Maggie paused, yanking out her left earbud at the sound of approaching footsteps. Steve. "You are not going to 'on your left' me, Steven Rogers!" She shouted, whirled around before he could pass her, and put her hands on her hips.

Practically skidding to a stop, Steve let out a breathless laugh. "Good morning to you too." He grinned, "So I take it Sam told you that one, huh?"

"Yes, he did. And while I didn't intend to run into you this morning, I figured I'd seize the opportunity to say hello since it seems you've been avoiding me." She said.

It was true. Since Argentina, she hadn't seen much of Rogers. She wasn't entirely sure if that was just the nature of the beast since they were more or less down to only Natasha and Steve running the Avengers. Stark and Barton had apparently retired, Bruce was MIA, and Thor was off doing whatever it was that an extraterrestrial with a massive magical hammer did.

Or he was just avoiding her.

Either possibility was likely, and even if it were the latter rather than the former, she wouldn't exactly blame him.

"I don't think avoiding is quite the right word," Steve said.

"I mean aside from things being ass-tastically busy since May and the fact that we moved from the big city to the middle of nowhere? Yeah, I think you're avoiding me."

Steve sighed, nodding before looking back up at her. "I wasn't avoiding you. I've been trying to give you space to work through everything."

Maggie frowned, surveying Steve critically. He believed what he was saying, Maggie could tell that much at the very least, but the words coming out of his mouth sounded like Sam Wilson. "I have been working through some of the files." Maggie nodded agreeably, steering the discussion into a more favorable direction. She wasn't about to throw Steve under the bus if Sam had been telling him that she was working on her mental health. It was probably better for Steve's well being and mental health if he did think she was taking care of herself, even if that was the farthest thing from the truth.

"Oh." Steve said brightly, "How's that coming? Anything of note?"

"Nothing of immediate application, you would've heard about that. I am trying to put together a timeline between 1945 and 2014, maybe expose a pattern of Hydra operations to give us a better idea of where primary bases and secondary safe house locations were to narrow down even further where he might be hiding out."

"Oh," Steve said again, this time with a lot less enthusiasm.

"It's a process. But I'm making good headway."

"Anything that you didn't already know? Anything I should be concerned about?" Steve asked.

You should tell him. You should tell him what you've found out. Tell him what you know. Her brain screamed at her, but Maggie ignored it. What would that do? What function would it serve? What good would come of knowing when there was nothing they could to do to change that fact? It wouldn't help her sleep better at night if she told Steve, and it certainly wouldn't do anything for the already strained tensions between the Avengers and the world. Sometimes an omission of certain facts was better than telling the whole truth. You're a goddamn hypocrite. It was true, but it didn't change the fact, what she knew would break the avengers, and she couldn't be responsible for that.

"Nope. But I'll be sure to tell you if I do come across anything pertinent." She smiled, a little too brittle and a bit too wide.

"Sounds good." Steve nodded. "Everything else good? You liking the compound?" Steve asked, glancing around at the green rolling hills, and dense trees.

"An adjustment."

"Yeah, I—" Steve was cut off by the sound of his phone beeping. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he sighed. "Sorry, gotta run. We'll have to catch up later." He rushed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"No worries, get to where you gotta go, Cap'," Maggie smiled, sidestepping to allow Steve to move past her.

"Thanks, Ramirez, good to see you."

"You too, Steve."

And with that, he disappeared down the running path. Maggie sighed, rubbing her face before putting her earbuds back into her ear. "Yeah, no, I don't think so." She muttered, skipping 'Enter Sandman' on her jogging playlist before she started back down the path in Steve's wake.

She grudgingly finished her run, went back to her room, showered changed, and settled back into her work for the day. It was only 8:00 am.

Coffee cup in hand, she paused outside the office door, surveying her domain. It was slightly less dreary than the office back in the city. It had windows overlooking the lake and a beautiful view of the tree line and hills beyond.

She'd managed to get her ugly Craigslist couch moved over with her other belongings, and it made her smile. Perhaps it was her sense of rebellion or just the fact that it was one of the few objects in the apartment that were her own, but she loved that sleeper sofa because of the gross color and stains and the whole personality it possessed that all of the modern lines and clean looks of minimalism that the Stark Aesthetic so clearly was going for did not. During the move, she'd found a couple of side tables and matching coffee table on Craigslist that was very clearly third hand, well-loved, and showing all the signs of being used with coffee rings, and nicks and chips and scratches that came with that.

Maggie had also painstakingly documented and then recreated the world map with all of the notes, pins, and documents on the largest wall of the office. Unfortunately, aside from recreating the damn thing, she hadn't touched it since she'd moved into the compound, which all things being equal was not a good sign.

However, she had added another two journals to her collection, bringing the count up to three, which considering how much paper she'd been sifting through since she'd opened Natasha's 'point of no return file' and then, of course, the payload she'd acquired after Argentina, was unsurprising. There was more information, but far less that she wanted or even could share with Sam, Steve, or even Natasha.

Picking up a file from her desk and her journal, she sunk on the couch and dove in. It was strange, really, the mundanity of it all. She'd woken up early, gone for a run, and now was drinking coffee, and sorting through files. There was nothing in there that in and of itself was nefarious or horrifying enough to give her nightmares for years, yet, here they were.

I'm going to die. This information is going to get me killed.

Yes, that's what Natasha had warned her about. She could've walked away, she should've walked away, but she hadn't, determined to bring Barnes home to his sister, determined to make it right. Now here she was, Becca was dead, Barnes was no nearer to being found, and she was stuck with a head full of information that could get her killed or worse.

You need to tell someone, need to get help, seek advice, try and talk through it with someone. But who?

"Anyone home?" Sam's voice called from the front door.

"Where else would I be?" She called back, sitting up she closed the file before he could come to the office door.

"Damn. I still can't believe Stark let you bring raggedy-ass couch with you."

"Well, hello to you too," Maggie snorted, "And for your information, Stark didn't personally check every inventory list. Since I'm not smuggling thermonuclear warheads, the couch made the cut."

"I guess that's fair."

"And it's the most comfortable piece of furniture in this goddamn compound."

"I dunno about that, my bed is pretty damn comfortable."

"You and Steve having fun breaking it in?" She raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well. I'm glad to hear that you find Stark's furniture selection up to snuff. I am more than happy with my shabby ass craigslist furniture." She said.

"Fine fine. Keep the damn couch." He laughed, sinking onto the sofa beside her. "Hi, Mags."

"Hey, Sammie." She smiled, "Long time no see, how's it going?"

"Oh, you know the usual bit. How about you? How you doing? Liking the compound?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" Maggie shook her head.

"Cause we care about you, and wanna make sure you're liking your new digs?" Sam shrugged.

"Can't complain. It's an adjustment, can't go down and around the corner for Tacos, but I can also go and run to my heart's content whenever I want, so it's a trade-off."

"You know you could just make the tacos here in your apartment."

Maggie snorted, "Where's the fun in that? Particularly if I have to make an effort." She shook her head. "What about you? Other than the comfortable bed you and Steven are breaking in, how's the compound life treating you? I haven't seen you. It's been forever since we've had one of our sad briefings."

"Sad briefings?" Sam echoed.

"You know the ones where we both report that we've found nothing and get to watch Steve choke back disappointment."

"Oh yeah, those are so fun." Sam rolled his eyes.

"That's why they're called sad briefings, Sam."

"Well, is it rude of me to say that I don't miss the sad briefings?"

"I don't exactly miss them either, but I miss you two jerk faces," She said.

"Sorry we've been busy."

"No, I get that." She paused, watching him carefully.

They'd been on somewhat better terms since Argentina. Since he'd said his piece, Sam seemed more relaxed. He was still concerned, of course, she didn't think he would ever stop being concerned for her, but there were far less unsaid assertions now that it was all out in the open. It felt less like an ax was hanging over their heads, and things were feeling almost like they had before Riley had passed away.

Was he the person that she could confide in? What would he do if she told him what she'd found out? Did he already know? Could she count on him not to tell Steve and the rest of the team? She didn't know for sure, but she had a feeling what her ultimate conclusion would be.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" Maggie asked after a moment.

"I wanted to drop by to talk to you. There's something I need to tell you."

Oh fuck. Her heart began to thud wildly in her chest, her anxiety sending her mind spinning a mile a minute. "Ho-Kay." She nodded, prompting him to continue you.

"I'm joining the avengers."

Her heart stopped, "What?" She practically choked. Of all the things she'd expected to come out of Sam's mouth that hadn't been one of them. Should she have expected it? Probably? But to actually hear it, that was something else altogether.

Despite her reaction, Sam charged on, "Steve and the others, they want me to become an Avenger. Since the Barnes thing isn't resolving itself anytime soon and I don't exactly have anything going on in D.C. anymore..." he trailed off at her open-mouthed stare. "What?"

"I thought—I mean I thought you—I thought it was-" She stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.

"I know I said I wasn't going to get involved, but things change."

"Things change?" Maggie echoed as she rose to her feet, collecting her journal and folder, marched over to the desk.

Sam paused, taken aback. "You're mad."

Maggie looked away from him, shaking her head, a thousand different things running through her head. Her hand went to the chain around her neck, fingers fiddling with the two gold wedding bands.

You're nothing but collateral damage, but if you tell him now, you're putting everyone in danger, including and especially him.

"No. No, I'm not mad. Just surprised is all." She said as slowly and evenly as she could manage

"You're a terrible liar."

Maggie exhaled a strangled sigh before turning back to him. "Sam, I thought you were done being a soldier, following order and all that shit?"

"This is different. Being an Avenger isn't the same thing as being some grunt in the Air Force."

Maggie shook her head. "You tell your mom and sisters yet?

"No. Figured I should tell you first."

"How considerate." The words came out barbed.

"Wow," Sam muttered, shaking his head, "I'm an idiot,"

"What Sam?"

"I thought you'd be excited for me. Proud of me even. You know how Riley felt about Cap', about all of it. I thought you'd understand."

"That's not fair. You can't use that against me, not after all of this." Maggie said. "I am proud of you, Sam. I just want you to be safe, and I know enough about this business to know that there's no such thing."

"So what, you want me to decline their offer?"

"No." Maggie shook her head. "I didn't say that. I want you to do what makes you happy. Just don't ask me to be overcome with the joy at the prospect of my friend, probably my best friend being the target of every super-villain, assassin, and asshole with a gun, super suit, and a grudge."

At this, Sam's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his body was still coiled ready to fend off any oncoming attack verbal or otherwise. "I can respect that."

There was a long pause before Maggie spoke again. "You really should call your mother. She's going to be able to give you the response you're looking for, Sammie."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." He said, rising to his feet. "See you later for our brief?"

"Yeah." Maggie nodded, "Hey, Sam." She called after him, stopping him before he could leave. "Thank you for telling me. I do appreciate it. I'm sure you were dreading this conversation. I wish I could be happy, but you know that I am proud of you."

"Thank you. And I understand."

"See you this evening for our weekly brief." She smiled.

As Sam's footsteps faded down the hall, the smile seeped from her face, and she could feel herself sink even further into her chair. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut.

Why am I the bad guy with this?

Didn't anyone else see what a dangerous line they were walking? The risks and dangers of this whole superhero thing?

You just know something that no one else does. It's not Sam's fault you're not sharing anything.

She needed to tell someone. She needed to say what she'd found out loud, to someone who'd be able to give her something approximating advice and a somewhat sympathetic ear. She'd hoped that person would be Sam. She could always count on him to give her the honest truth. But he was dating Steve, and now he was an Avenger. He was at the heart of the Avengers, and closest to the people this information would harm most. She couldn't burden him with that.

Taking several deep breaths, she pulled her phone from her hoodie and typed out a quick message. If she couldn't talk to Sam and she couldn't talk to Steve, there was only one option open to her.

"You wanted to practice driving?" Natasha asked, walking into the garage thirty minutes later, with a slightly perplexed expression on her face.

It hadn't been one of her smoothest texts, but the cover story covered in a pinch, all things considered. "Yeah. If that fits into avengers practice." Maggie replied, shoving her hands into her front pockets.

"I have a few minutes. You have a car in mind?" Natasha's eyes didn't leave her, always watching, always evaluating her. Did she know something was wrong? Did she know that Maggie was freaking out? Probably. But with any luck, why exactly wouldn't be a mystery in a few minutes.

"How about that Ford Truck?"

Natasha nodded, following Maggie over to the truck. "You know the way."

They drove in silence out to the driving track. Parking, Maggie removed the audio scrambler and signal jammer that she swiped from one of the tech arsenals back at the tower out of her pocket, activated it, and set it on the seat between her and Natasha.

"What's all this about, Ramirez?"

"I need to know nothing I say leaves this truck."

Maggie looked up into Natasha's face expecting some sort of amusement in her features and instead found it bent with concern. "Okay."

"You swear?"

"You have my word."

Maggie paused, she hadn't been expecting to get this far, to find someone (even Natasha) willing to keep this secret. She wasn't sure she could even verbalize it. Collecting her words, she began slowly. "As you know, I've been compiling a list, a timeline of the Winter Soldier's operations."

Natasha nodded, giving Maggie the courage to continue. Squeezing her eyes shut, Maggie took a deep breath and counted to ten before opening her eyes and charging on. "December 16, 1991." She said flatly. Natasha raised an eyebrow but said nothing to Maggie continued. "The Winter Soldier was sent on a mission, December 16, 1991, to sanction and extract, no witnesses." Maggie took another deep breath before charging on. "December 16, 1991, was the day that Howard and Maria Stark were killed." She hesitated, meeting Natasha's gaze, unwavering and unrelenting. She couldn't turn back now. "I believe they were killed by the Winter Soldier."

There were several beats of silence as Natasha surveyed her.

She's going to say I'm imagining things, or that I've been overdoing it. That sometimes, these things just happen, that I'm crazy or worse.

"How long have you known?"

"Just after Argen-." Maggie stopped, her brain finally catching up with her ears. "You knew." She couldn't believe it.

"I did warn you about the point of no return."

So she had, and yet here they were. But Natasha knew, Natasha had known before Maggie told her. It made sense, but Maggie couldn't shake her shock. "But you knew," Maggie repeated.

"Have you told anyone else?"

She wasn't going to get any further confirmation out of Natasha. Now it was all business, and she would have to focus on the practical aspects of what this all meant. "No." Maggie rubbed her face wearily. "I was going to tell Steve, and I was about to tell Sam, but-" She cut herself off, shaking her head.

"But?" Natasha prompted.

"It would destroy the Avengers. Maybe not that alone, but it would drive a wedge, a deep one, and I can't be responsible for that."

"But, you told me."

Maggie shook her head, blinking quickly, the anxiety and tension that had been building finally determined to come out in the form of tears. "I had to tell someone I had to get out of my head. Someone else had to know." She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "I figured you have a more pragmatic take on these things."

"That's certainly one way to put." Natasha paused, looking her over. "You're scared."

Maggie snorted. "Shouldn't I be?"

"It's the first normal reaction I've gotten out of you since you arrived. Including that time you almost got snatched off the street by Hydra." Natasha's expression grew somber. "So, what's your plan?"

"You're assuming I have one." Maggie exhaled a frustrated sigh, sinking further into the driver's seat, thrumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "I told Becca I would find her brother, and that's what I want to do, but I didn't sign up to die trying." She exhaled sharply through her nose, "I plan on sticking this out as long as I can, but I want to know that when shit goes sideways, I'm not relegated to the damsel in distress role."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully, and Maggie continued. Taking a deep breath, she plunged on, "I want to survive, and I want you to teach me how."

The air in the truck was sticky and heavy with the pregnant silence. Maggie could feel her anticipation hanging in the air as she waited for Natasha's firm and immediate dismissal, prepared to make her case, by whatever means necessary.

"Okay."

Maggie blinked, "Okay?"

"What? You didn't think I'd say yes?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Natasha gave her a once over before looking out toward the driving course, "First. You should practice driving, make sure your cover story matches up to avoid arousing suspicions. Tomorrow I'll drop by your office, and we can start then. Does that work for you?"

Maggie turned her gaze to the road in front of her and nodded, "Yes."

Turning over the ignition, she returned the audio scrabbler and signal jammer to her pocket and proceeded with the driving course. She wasn't going to ask Natasha why. Wasn't going to press her for her reasoning behind why she agreed to help. She'd gotten Natasha on board. She wasn't going to ask why. In all truth, Maggie probably didn't want to know the reason why. Ultimately, all that mattered was that Natasha was going to teach her the basics of survival. Surviving was all that mattered now.

They finished their driving practice and returned to the garage in silence. They parted ways, confirming time and place for the following day, leaving Maggie to go back upstairs and back to her work. She didn't feel better now that it was out in the open, but she did feel better that she was drafting a plan, a fail-safe option should everything go to shit.

She couldn't count on Sam to protect her. She'd tried that last time, and it had almost gotten her burned alive. Now that he was apart of the Avengers, it would be even more difficult for him to ensure her safety. Not that her safety was his responsibility. That was why she was going to make her own plans. That was why she was going to take this matter into her own hands. She'd come too far, knew too much, and was far too stubborn to be nothing more than collateral damage. The next time things went sideways, she planned on being ready, and she planned on coming out not just alive, but on top.


So what do we think? Is Mags really in trouble Or just blowing it out of proportion? And BUCKY! Oh, boy, you guys. These next few chapters, I have so many many many feelings. I really really can't wait to hear what you think!

Thanks for sticking with me through this. We're going to get a bit of action soon, I promise!

Happy Reading!