Chapter 30
That night, Frankie read a good deal of Steve Rogers' biography. Once she got to the part where he became a super soldier, it became more interesting. His musings on the responsibilities and accountability of enhanced individuals struck a chord in her, but when he explained why he rejected the Sovokia Accords she was torn. She had been in full support of the accords when they were first announced and thought they would be the beginning of holding these people in check. Rogers' reservations about them made a good deal of sense, though. It seemed the issue was a lot less black and white than she believed it to be.
The next day, she asked Fury about it.
His answer was a snort of derision, "those are a joke."
"How so?"
He leaned forward in his chair, "have you ever seen a group of politicians do anything fast?"
"Not really, no," she admitted.
"Say you have a space monster crash land in some inconsequential country in Africa and it starts eating the natives and destroying their villages. This country has no oil, no major exports to the rest of the world, and brings nothing to the table as an ally. How quick do you think the council will respond to send in the Avengers?"
"The country could always ask for help. That's in the accords."
"But would they?"
"What do you mean?"
"There are a lot of countries around the world that don't trust the Avengers as much as they did at one time. After Sovokia and the Hulk's rampage in Johannesburg, they have a pretty big black eye."
"But still, if they are facing a threat, they can't contend with surely they would realize the Avengers are their only chance?"
Fury nodded, "maybe. But how long would it take? How many people would die before they asked for help?"
"It's their country, though. That's their right," Frankie argued.
"I'm not sure the villagers being eaten would agree."
Frankie mulled that one over as Fury continued.
"The other problem with the accords is enforcing them. Let's say that some of the Avengers disregarded the accords and went to the aid of these villages. In the process, they saved thousands of people. Should they be punished for violating the accords? If so, who the hell would capture them? What would the punishment be?"
She could see his point but wasn't convinced. Changing the direction of the conversation, she asked, "ok, so they saved thousands. That's great. Fantastic. But for every five people they save, one was killed either directly or indirectly by their actions. I'm sure the families of those that are killed aren't so happy about the intervention."
"Do you know how many civilians were killed by the US in Germany during WWII? About 350,000. How many were killed when we dropped the bombs on Japan? Around 200,000. These were your average, everyday Joe Schmo, trying to survive something that he probably had no say in. And the US was one of the good guys. Collateral damage is never good, but it's a cold hard fact of war."
"Well, I'm sure the families of the dead are relieved to hear that logic."
"No, they have every right to be angry. They have a right to be heard. But don't mistake me, the people they need to be angry at are the ones that started the conflict. Yes, the US killed hundreds of thousands of civilians in their offensives, but the Germans and their allies killed over forty million civilians. And that was just direct deaths. Millions more died from famine and disease."
He leaned back in his chair and regarded her with an air of superiority, "how many people would have died in the Battle for New York if the Avengers hadn't been there?"
His tone pissed her off. Up to now she was beginning to see his point, if not totally in agreement with it. Now, that hot little ember smoldering in her chest flared into hot scorching anger.
"How many people would have died in Sovokia if Stark and Banner hadn't created a psychotic AI?" she spat. "None. That's how many! How many people would have died by the Winter Soldier's hands if Howard Stark hadn't invented the super soldier serum? None. How many people would have been killed during the Hulk's rampage in Johannesburg if you, Director, hadn't recruited Dr. Banner into the Avengers." She sat back and glared at him.
"Alright, you have a point. We've made some missteps, I'll concede that. But how many people did the Hulk bring back when he reversed the snap? Billions."
"Have we fucked up?" He continued. "Absolutely. For the most part, we're just humans and making mistakes comes as part of the package. But we are trying. Which is why I started the Avenger Initiative in the first place. By bringing them together and giving them legitimacy and purpose. Instead of having a dozen or so enhanced people out there," he pointed out the window, "doing whatever they want, when they want, and how they want, we have them here where we can hopefully mold them into something better."
Frankie cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him, "why are you telling me all of this? Are you trying to recruit me?"
Fury broke out into laughter.
"I'm so glad you find that funny," she huffed.
"I think it's funny that of all the reasons you could have come up with, that was the one you went with. Why do you think that is?"
She shrugged, "you just sounded like you were giving me a sales pitch, that's all." She wasn't about to tell him that his out-right rejection of the idea hurt a little. Well, more than a little, if she was being honest. Which was ludicrous.
"If I was trying to recruit you, what would you bring to the table?"
Caught off-guard by the question, she leaned back in her chair and said the first thing that came to mind, "the same thing that made Hydra want to recruit me."
"And that is?" Fury prompted.
She wasn't about to tell him that the only reason Hydra recruited her was because of Rory.
"This is ridiculous," she shook her head, "I'm not an enhanced person."
"The Black Widow wasn't enhanced. Neither was Stark. The current Captain America, War Machine, and Hawkeye aren't enhanced. SHIELD agents aren't enhanced."
"But I'm Hydra and you don't trust me."
"The Black Widow was a Russian assassin. And you know the deal with the Winter Soldier. But you're right, I don't trust you. But trust can be earned. Starting with the truth."
"The truth? Isn't that what I've been doing the past week? Telling you everything I know?"
"You see, that's the problem, Frankie. You haven't been telling us everything you know. You're hiding something and that something is filling your story with a lot of holes."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she met his eyes and maintained contact, trying to convince him of her sincerity.
He just shook his head as he pushed back from the table, "nice try, but I'm not buying it."
Going to the door, he pulled it open and left without another glance at her.
Her next stop was the infirmary. She waited impatiently in the exam room for over thirty minutes before the doctor rushed in. She seemed flustered and distracted.
"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, but I've got a lot on my plate today."
"No problem," she lied. "It happens."
"I'm told you went for a run yesterday," she said after she took Frankie's vitals and began to examine the mostly healed gunshot wound. "How did that go?"
"I may have overdone it at the end, but otherwise it was good to be out and exercising again."
"Any pain?" the doctor probed her ribs.
"Just a bit," she flinched, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.
"And your shoulders?"
"The scars pulled a little, but that's all."
"I'd give you something to soften them up, but it wouldn't do anything for the internal scar tissue. You're just going to have to push through it and get it to loosen up naturally."
Frankie nodded, "that's what I figured."
The doctor stepped back and considered her, "I supposed running won't hurt. If anything, being physically active is good for healing, both physical and mental. I'm going to clear you to exercise but take it easy. Listen to your body. Okay?"
Frankie eagerly agreed. On her way to her next appointment, she asked Laura if she could get some more workout clothes and better running shoes.
"Sure, I'll take you to the quartermaster's office after you see Dr. Raynor."
Dr. Raynor seemed distracted also. What the hell was going on that had both women off balance? Frankie made a mental note to ask Laura later.
They talked about Frankie's dreams and memories and worked to reconcile them. By now, Frankie was pretty sure which dreams and memories were real and which ones had been planted or changed. Still, it was comforting to have someone to confirm it for her. She hadn't seen shadow Rory for a few days and, though she felt guilty about it, she was relieved to be free of him.
Throughout the session, the doctor fidgeted nervously and kept glancing at the door. Frankie had to repeat some of her questions twice before she answered them. After a long silence stretched between them after Frankie mentioned her conversation with Fury, she cleared her throat, bringing the doctor's attention back to her.
"I'm sorry, Frankie," she apologized again, "what were you saying?"
"What the hell is going on with you?" Frankie demanded, irritated. Of all her meetings and appointments, this was the one that was doing her the most good and she resented anything that disrupted it.
"Hold that thought," Raynor said quietly and stood.
Walking to the door, she pulled it open.
"Frankie needs some water. Can you go get a chilled bottle from the kitchen?"
Shutting the door again, she crossed the room and sat in the chair by Frankie.
"I don't need…," Frankie began.
"We don't have much time," Raynor cut her off, speaking quickly and softly. "Here, take this," she handed a baggie of pills to Frankie. "Don't let them see it, though. You're not supposed to have it, but you're going to need several days' worth."
"What's going on?" Frankie didn't reach out to take the pills.
Raynor sighed, "Hail Hydra."
Frankie jumped up from her chair and put it between them, "what the hell? Is this a test or something? This shit is not funny!"
"No, calm down. I'm really a Hydra agent. I've been embedded here for a couple of years now."
Frankie eyed her with distrust, "so why tell me? You just blew your cover if I decide to tell Fury. That would gain me a lot of brownie point with him, which I need right now."
Raynor shook her head, "no you don't. You won't be here much longer. Rory says it's time for you to come home."
"Rory? You know Rory?"
"Of course, I do. He's the one that sent me here. Took a while for me to get used to taking orders from such a young commander, but he won me over. His vision for the future of Hydra is amazing and I'm proud to be part of it."
Frankie sat back down, "so there plans to get me out of here?"
Raynor nodded, "they're being put into motion as we speak. Your time here is limited, so you need to concentrate on healing; both mentally and physically. If Rory is personally overseeing your escape, then you must be important to the cause."
Frankie felt like a fraud. The only reason Rory was involved was because of their relationship, not because she was part of some master plan.
"I also need to warn you to be careful. Ms. Jones, I'm sure you know her or of her, has her own agenda."
Frankie almost snarled at the mention of Glenda, "she's the reason I'm as fucked up as I am. She's tried to kill me once already."
"Well, then you don't need to be told to watch out. She has eyes and ears here also."
Frankie took the pills and shoved them into her pants pocket and pulled her shirt over it to hide the bulge.
Raynor patted her hand before getting up and going back around to her desk. Just as she took her seat, there was a knock at the door from the agent returning with the water.
That evening, Clint came to get her for another run. Remembering what Dr. Bennett and Dr. Raynor had told her, she vowed to take it easier this time but still get in a good workout. She also refrained from antagonizing her companion as they walked to the track.
"You're quiet today," he remarked.
"Just thinking about some things from my session with Dr. Raynor," she answered. It wasn't a lie, at least.
"She's helping, then?"
Frankie nodded, "yeah, a lot actually. I'm starting to feel like myself again."
"That's always a good thing."
"You have no idea."
His answer was just a thinning of his lips and a muscle in his jaw twitched. She almost let it go, but curiosity is a hard impulse to overcome. Especially for her. She stopped and he took a few steps before he stopped and reluctantly turned around to face her.
"What?" he asked.
"Don't 'what' me, mister," she shot back. "You're holding something back. I can tell. I'm good at reading people. It's my superpower."
"Then you should be able to read that I don't want to talk about it." He turned to continue to the track.
She hurried and caught up with him, planting herself in front of him to block his way.
"Did you talk to someone about it? That's what you told me to do."
"Kind of," he grunted and stepped to the side to go around her.
Frankie shifted to keep herself in his path, "it doesn't sound like your 'kind of' helped."
"I'm not talking about it. Not with you."
He pushed past her and this time she let him, quietly following him to the track.
She let him set the pace this time and found it just fast enough to push her limits on the eight laps they ran. Afterwards, they sat on the edge the track as they cooled off and rehydrated. Laying back on the cool dirt, Frankie stared up at the clouds tinged pink from the setting sun. She could tell Clint was trying to make up his mind about something by the way he fidgeted and kept glancing sideways at her. Staying quiet, she watched him wrestle with himself for several minutes before he broke the silence.
"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier," he started.
"I've been a lot ruder to you," she smiled slightly.
He chuckled, "yeah, that's true."
She frowned, "a gentleman would have said it was his fault or that he deserved it."
Another chuckle, "good thing I'm not a gentleman."
"Yeah, cads are so much cooler."
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "who the hell says cads?"
"I'm a woman with a refined vocabulary," she answered loftily.
"My ass," he snorted.
"Fuck off."
They both giggled and the tension between them eased.
