Guys...I'm uploading again. I'm uploading twice in the same week! That hasn't happened in a looooonnngg time (I think). Anyways, here's another chapter for all you lovely people :) My sisters and I have decided to write or do something we want to improve on for two hours each day. I think it's paying off :D And I think this is my longest chapter yet. It has one of my favorite scenes from the movie so please tell me what you think! It does switch POV's so just forewarning: Charlie, Steve, Charlie. That's the order but I'll put a line in between so it creates some space :) Let me know what you think! Enjoy! :D
Oh and thank you thank you thank you all for your lovely reviews! I'm so glad you like the story and have stuck with me! I can't thank you enough! You have all made my day(s) :D Thank you! You guys are amazing!
Charlie opened her eyes blearily after the second song on the radio. Mechanically, she turned off her alarm and sat up groaning. She hadn't experienced a night like that in a long time. Maybe it was the plane flight or the fact that she left Steve, but Charlie hadn't been plagued by nightmares for a long time. She'd even tried to sleep on the floor, hoping that a change of sleep arrangements would make the dreams go away. Sadly, that was not the case. Images of broken bottles, sounds of her mother's screams, and the feeling of running away from something attacked Charlie's dreams. She yawned and stretched, rubbing her face and surrendering herself to the morning.
The plane had only been a few hours ride and Nana and Nattie had met her at the airport. They asked relentlessly after Steve and all Charlie could say was that he was hanging in there. Charlie was heartbroken to see Steve so hurt. His agonized face was still imprinted into Charlie's memory. The desperate way in which he'd clutched her while she hugged him, as if he was afraid she'd leave him. Charlie ran her hand through her hair, fingers snagging on a knot. She sighed in annoyance and patiently pulled the strands apart. Charlie hadn't wanted to leave Steve. She still felt like he needed her, which was odd. It was a new feeling to be needed. Sure, Nana and Nattie needed her for the diner but that was a business. With Steve…it was different.
Charlie checked her phone as she stepped out of the bathroom, ready for the day. Surprisingly, there were no messages. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself, but she thought Steve would want to talk to her in the morning. It figured since they had been talking every day. Charlie paused. Had they really been talking every single day? A small dose of fear twisted in Charlie's gut but she pushed the thought away. She needed to get started on this morning's goodies and she was already behind. Charlie turned the radio to an oldies station and played it on low volume. Breathing in the smell of her kitchen, Charlie got to work.
"Good morning, Lotte," Nathan said, yawning.
"Morning, Nattie," Charlie sang, smiling. Nathan grunted and turned the coffee pot on.
"How you're so chipper in the morning without caffeine, I will never understand. But it's good to have you back." Nathan ruffled Charlie's hair and sank into a chair, snapping the newspaper open. They fell into comfortable silence as Charlie busied around the kitchen.
"My, that smells divine, Lotte," Betty said, inhaling deeply. She gave Charlie a peck on the cheek and joined her husband at the table. Charlie served them a breakfast of eggs and bacon, her heart clenching when it reminded her of Steve. Honestly, he's gotten too far into my head, Charlie thought.
An hour later, and all three of them were in the diner, the morning rush upon them. Charlie was rapidly cooking and serving any type of egg under the sun. Sunny side up, scrambled, poached, everything. The radio was playing Bing Crosby softly in the background until Bentley came in. Without a word, he came in a changed the radio to a news station. Charlie gave him a look and he ducked his head sheepishly.
"How many times do I have to say, ask before you touch my radio?" Charlie asked, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage in front of him, his usual.
"Sorry, Charlie but I was listening to something interesting in the car…" Bentley's voice trailed off as a woman newscaster's voice crackled through.
"As of this morning, it is confirmed that Nicholas Fury, Director of the intelligence agency S.H.I.E.L.D. passed away last night. He was involved in a massive car accident leaving him in critical condition. He succumbed to his injuries while on the operating table…"
Charlie stared at the radio in shock. Fury was Steve's superior. They had just talked about him two days ago. Bentley whistled and shook his head.
"A car accident? Didn't think men like that got taken out so easily," Bentley commented. Charlie glanced at Bentley, thinking about his words. It was odd that a car accident had killed the director. He probably had loads of technology at his disposal. And the medical technology they had these days? Something wasn't right.
"I bet you're boyfriend will take control now," Bentley said, glancing at his plate.
"Excuse me?" Charlie asked, giving Bentley her full attention. Bentley picked up his fork and looked up at Charlie.
"Steve, the guy that stayed with you, is probably going to be the leader of whatever that organization is called." Charlie shook her head. She should have known Bentley would catch on to who Steve was. He may look like an ordinary worker, but he was highly observant.
"I doubt it and it's called S.H.I.E.L.D. And Bentley, he's not my boyfriend, he's just a friend," Charlie corrected. Bentley shrugged and attacked his breakfast. Charlie went back to the kitchen and took a deep breath. Steve had lost two people close to him in under a week. True, Fury wasn't buddy-buddy with Steve but he had still been close. Charlie patted her pockets for her phone before remembering she'd forgotten it in the house. She'd have to text Steve later and ask how he was doing. Charlie sighed. What a nightmare for Steve. How many times did his world need to be shaken?
Steve rolled his shoulders, holding his shield in front of him as he rode the elevator up. He felt…numb. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He knew something was very wrong and he was on high alert, being much more observant as if he was on a mission and it was life and death. But his emotions however, it was like they weren't there. Steve had watched Natasha and Maria as Fury died. Could feel their pent up emotions and barely held back tears. He hadn't even known Natasha was that close to Fury but she acted as if she'd lost a friend. There were too many things he didn't know or didn't understand. But he was numb. Numb to the pain of losing someone again, numb to the emptiness gnawing at him. All of his emotions and feelings had been put on the back shelf until this entire mess was over. SHIELD compromised. Fury wouldn't have told Steve unless he was certain. What a nightmare. There were times when Steve hated being right.
The elevator stopped and announced the level. Steve stepped out and started walking towards Alexander Pierce's office. He'd been called to Pierce's office probably to be questioned about Fury's death. Steve hadn't met the man that was at the top with Fury. Pierce and Steve never crossed paths due to their different duties. Pierce was on the politics and public relations side while Steve was on the front lines. The question was whether he could be trusted. Fury had said to trust no one but surely, he could trust Pierce? Steve's paranoia refused that logic and Steve cleared his mind of what he knew about the man. He'd try to assess him as he talked with him.
As Steve rounded a corner he saw Pierce speaking to Kate. Agent 13, Steve corrected himself. Steve's eyes narrowed as he walked towards them. He didn't like people spying on him. Pierce was speaking softly to Agent 13, offering words of comfort. She responded politely and turned to leave. She glanced up and saw Steve, a myriad of emotions crossing her face. Guilt, embarrassment, fear, sadness.
"Captain Rogers," Agent 13 addressed him.
"Neighbor," Steve replied coldly, looking straight ahead. He felt her look back at him but he didn't care. He was really beginning to hate secrets.
"Ah, Captain. I'm Alexander Pierce," the man said, stretching out his hand. He wore a crisp grey suit with round glasses resting on his nose. Steve clasped his hand.
"Sir, it's an honor."
"The honor is mine, Captain. My father served in the 101st. Come on in." Pierce walked into his office and Steve followed behind him. His mind was slightly thrown as he considered what Pierce had just said. Steve had saved Pierce's father and yet Pierce looked older than Steve. He still wasn't used to the whole 95 years old thing. They walked into the office in silence and Pierce rummaged in his desk until he pulled out some old photos. He handed them to Steve and went back to his desk. Steve stayed standing, not wanting to be trapped in a chair. The pictures were of Fury and Pierce at some social gathering. They both looked slightly younger yet Fury's face was still unreadable.
"That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met. When I was at the State Department in Bogota. ELN rebels took the embassy, and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages," Pierce explained as he took off his coat. "Nick was deputy chief for the SHIELD station there. And he comes to me with a plan. He wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said, 'No, we'll negotiate.' Turned out the ELN didn't negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They stormed the basement, and what did they find? They find it empty." Pierce walked towards him and took a seat. Out of etiquette, Steve took the seat next to Pierce.
"Nick had ignored my direct order and carried out an unauthorized military operation on foreign soil. He saved the lives of a dozen political officers, including my daughter."
"So you gave him a promotion," Steve said, voice colder than he intended.
"I've never had any cause to regret it," Pierce stated. Fury had broken protocol and he got rewarded. You did the same thing to save Bucky, his mind reminded him.
"Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?" The question was blunt and to the point. Steve had expected Pierce to skirt around the question like a politician. He was beginning to see why Fury worked well with Pierce. Remembering back to last night and Natasha's comment about his lying skills, Steve tried to be sincere in his answer.
"I don't know," Steve sighed. He didn't know why Fury had picked him over the other agents, like Natasha, to confide in. Why did Fury tell Steve that S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised when Steve had no sway in any of his assignments? As far as he knew, he was a pawn. A super strong pawn.
"You know it was bugged?"
"I did, because Nick told me." Stick with the truth, Steve thought.
"Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?" Pierce asked. Steve stared at Pierce, alarms going off inside his head. It felt like he was trying to rile Steve up, get him to "gossip" about Fury. It had been no secret that Steve wasn't always happy with Fury. He opted not to reply.
"I want you to see something." Pierce pressed a button on the console and an image of Batroc, one of the pirates, popped up.
"Who hired you Batroc?" an agent on the screen asked, circling the man.
"Is that live?" Steve asked, intrigued.
"Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not-so-safe house in Algiers," Pierce answered. Steve's mind spun, trying to fit these new puzzle pieces together.
"Are you saying he's a suspect? Assassination isn't Batroc's line."
"No, it's more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the Lemurian Star and he was contacted by e-mail and paid by wire transfer. And then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts, the last one going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech." Steve stared at Pierce, digesting what he'd heard and accepted the file that Pierce handed to him.
"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Steve questioned, running the name through his memory.
"Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 14-35 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick his mother lived at 14-37," Pierce said. Steve didn't like the tone or the implication of this conversation.
"Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?"
"Well the prevailing theory was that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick's death." In that moment, Steve had made his assessment. Pierce was not to be trusted. Steve's gut told him that this man was involved in a lot more but he pushed that thought away. From their conversation so far, Steve knew he could trust Pierce with any more information. What was weird and confusing was that Pierce was telling the truth. Batroc had been hired to attack the Lemurian Star and someone had sold classified intelligence. But it wasn't Fury.
"If you really knew Nick Fury you know that's not true," Steve said softly.
"Why do you think we're talking?" Pierce asked, with a slight smile. Steve followed Pierce with his eyes as he rose and started walking towards the window.
"See, I took a seat on the Council not because I wanted to but because Nick asked me to, because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy and the handshaking and the rhetoric, that to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down," Pierce explained. He turned towards Steve and looked him in the eye.
"And that makes enemies. Those people that call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today, makes me really, really angry." Steve's assessment that Pierce couldn't be trusted was being confirmed the more he talked. Pierce had just used a tactic to try and relate to Steve, so that Steve would agree with him. The problem was he didn't. Steve didn't want to tear down the old world, he wanted to protect it.
"Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive. I don't think that's an accident, and I don't think you do either. So I'm gonna ask again, why was he there?" Pierce asked. Steve had a bad feeling. He knew he couldn't trust the man but there was something more, some ulterior motive. Pierce was fishing for information and Steve was a terrible liar. Stick to the truth.
"He told me not to trust anyone," Steve stated. He didn't know if it was too much information but it was as vague and truthful as Steve could be. He idly wished that Bucky had taught him how to lie better.
"I wonder if that included him," Pierce commented. Alarms screamed in Steve's head. It was wrong to accuse a dead man of past wrongs, especially coming from his "friend." Pierce was not to be trusted and he was a part of something worse. He was why S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised. Steve needed to leave. Now.
"I'm sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse me." Steve turned and picked up his shield, placing it on his back and walking towards the door.
"Captain," Pierce called. Steve stopped and looked at Pierce. He was sitting on the edge of his desk with a dark look in his eyes.
"Somebody murdered my friend and I'm gonna find out why. Anyone gets in my way, they're gonna regret it. Anyone," Pierce emphasized. The subtle threat didn't go unnoticed and Steve was beginning to realize just how far this compromise might be.
"Understood." Steve turned and walked out the door. If Pierce, now the top man of S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't be trusted, then it was likely that a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised. How far down did it go? Was the corruption limited to the top or did it reach all the way into the lower ranks. The nightmare was growing worse by the minute. Steve called the elevator and stepped into it a few minutes later.
"Operations control," Steve said.
"Confirmed," the computer responded. Steve was facing the window, looking out at the scenery. What did he do next? Stay out of Pierce's way and do his own investigation. But he'd need help and yet who could he trust? Steve heard the doors open and some of the STRIKE team filter in.
"Cap," Rumlow addressed Steve. He straightened and schooled his face, turning around.
"Rumlow," Steve responded. He put his hands in front of him and waited for the awkward elevator ride. There were two other agents with Rumlow, all dressed in their gear.
"Evidence response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see. You want me to get the tac-team ready?" Rumlow asked. His voice sounded…different. It was like he was nervous. Was Steve throwing off don't-talk-to-me vibes or something?
"No, lets wait and see what it is first," Steve replied calmly.
"Right." Yeah, he definitely sounded nervous but also excited. Steve glanced at the other agents and saw the one farthest to the controls tapping his gun. Steve's heart rate picked up a fraction and his gut twisted. Something wasn't right. Why were they armed? The elevator stopped and the doors opened to let more people in. They were dressed in suits and holding briefcases.
"Excuse me," a deep voice said. Steve moved deftly out of the way and made his way to the center of the elevator. He shouldn't have his back against the window. He was not being trapped in an elevator. Steve scanned the new occupants, his senses alerting him that he was in trouble. A lot of trouble.
"Um...sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up what happened to him," Rumlow commented, turning his head to address Steve without looking at him. He had better control of his voice now.
"Thank you." Steve continued his scan of the people and he doesn't like what he finds. A man close to him had sweat dripping from his temple, even though the elevator was air-conditioned. The men in suits were big, muscled men and they were fidgety. The elevator stopped again and opened to more of the STRIKE team members. The one in front looked from left to right and stepped in, pushing Steve back slightly. Steve looked around, his heart rate racing. Pierce's threat wasn't a bluff and it was immediate. This was not good. Steve took a deep breath and steadied his heart beat. A fight was coming and he would not be taken by surprise. Steve allowed the elevator doors to close, less people to interfere and get hurt. After a few moments, Steve broke the silence.
"Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?" Steve's voice was hard and steely. It took them four seconds to react. The agent directly in front of him flipped out an electric rod and shocked Steve before he could move. Hands grabbed him, pulling him towards the wall. Steve struggled but it was hard to work past the volts of electricity racing through his body. Someone hit the emergency stop button on the elevator, causing an alarm to sound. The men in briefcases unclasped the handles from the briefcases, pushing them towards Steve. One fastened around Steve's rest, like a handcuff. The man pushed Steve arm up towards a metal bar and Steve could feel the handcuff magnetizing towards the metal. Not good. Not good. Steve grunted with exertion, doing everything he could not to get stuck to the wall. No, I will not be taken down in an elevator.
Steve pulled his arm down hard, slamming his leg into the nearest agent's knee. He heard a satisfying crunch before he slammed his flexed hand into another agent's throat. With his other arm, he elbowed the other agent with the magnetic handcuff, sending it spinning to the wall. Steve kicked an agent running at him into the opposite wall and slammed his hand into another throat. An agent grabbed him around the neck but Steve was having none of it. He slugged another agent and then flung his head into his attacker's face, making him cry in pain. Steve flipped the man over his shoulder, his super strength making it easy even though the man was twice his size. With a yell, Rumlow kicked Steve's handcuffed wrist throwing it back into the metal bar where the magnetics held fast. Steve grabbed his arm, trying to get his arm away from the metal. He turned just in time.
Steve blocked Rumlow's swing and dodged the following punch, forcing Rumlow from his sight. Wrong move, Steve thought before Rumlow thrust an electric rod into Steve's back. Volts upon volts of electricity coursed through Steve, setting his nerves on fire. He grunted in pain, trying to find an opening. There. Steve turned and elbowed Rumlow into the wall. He threw another agent into the ceiling, shattering the camera. Steve tried again to get his hand down from the metal bar but it wasn't budgding. Another electric rod sizzled close by and Steve used the agent's thrust to electrocute his buddy. He punched the guy with the rod and when both agent's tried to get up again, he pulled up on his stuck arm and kicked out, sending them into opposite walls. They slid down, dazed. Another agent took a swing at him and Steve grabbed his wrist, snapping it. Before the agent could cry out in pain, Steve kicked him in the face and he fell. This ends now, Steve thought. He had to get his arm free. He jumped onto the wall and started using his legs to try and pull the magnetic handcuff from the wall. He squeezed his eyes in concentration and tugged his arm off the metal. Flipping through the air, he landed on his feet, straightening in time to jab one agent with his elbow and slam his fist into another. Steve threw one man to the ground and the other to the wall. He paused, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the tingling from the repeated shocks of electricity. He turned to find Rumlow holding two electricity rods, swaying slightly on his feet.
"Woah, big guy. I just want you to know, Cap, this ain't personal!" Rumlow yelled as he lunged. Steve ducked and dodged Rumlow's swing, pushing his arm up. Rumlow answered by sticking the electricity rod in his other hand into Steve's gut. Pain crackled through his muscles until he was able to hit Rumlow's arm away. Steve threw a punch but Rumlow dodged, throwing another swing. It was the same exact move he'd just used and Steve acted on instinct. He deflected the blow up and found the electricity rod back in his stomach. Steve growled in pain. Enough. Steve used the hand that was holding one of Rumlow's arms to crash down hard on his face. Rumlow crumpled and Steve stooped to pick him up. Smashing him into the ceiling wasn't necessary to end the fight, but Steve was angry and in pain. Not a good combination. Rumlow fell with a grunt, lights sparking above him, and he didn't get up.
"It kind of feels personal," Steve retorted, breathing heavily. He looked around at the agents in discuss and kicked his shield up. He smashed it against the magnetic handcuff and tapped the emergency stop button on the elevator. As the doors opened and Steve looked up, more agents loaded with guns stared back at him. He immediately dropped into a defensive stance and assessed the situation. Too many agents were blocking his exit and he was in an elevator. He needed to go down.
"Drop the shield! Put your hands in the air!" Steve barely heard the man's shouts as he spun and tore his shield through the elevator's cables. The elevator plummeted, forcing Steve into a crouch. A high metallic screeching filled his ears as the emergency breaks kicked in and slowed the elevator to a stop. Steve stood and forced the doors open, even though they were stopped between levels. Footsteps met him and Steve quickly closed the doors. What to do? What to do? Steve thought. He went to the window, looking at the drop. There were too many agents inside the building and Steve didn't have anyone he could trust. The only way was down. It was just a long, painful way down. Do I have a choice? Steve thought as he calculated the height and risk of jumping from the elevator into the lobby.
"Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!" a voice yells at him through the door. Steve backs away from the window taking a few deep breaths. Bucky would kill me, Steve thought as he smashed through the glass with his shield. Falling was not his favorite past time but he pushed past his initial fear. Steve curled his body around his shield, making sure that it would take most of the weight. He could survive this fall without his shield but he'd rather not have any broken bones, thank you very much. Steve hadn't had time to perfectly aim his jump so instead of just breaking through glass he hit a steel beam. Thankfully, it broke from the force of his fall but it knocked the wind out of Steve. He heard a distant scream as he rushed towards the ground. As he hit the floor, his breath rushed into his lungs and he grunted in pain. His body was not happy with the recent abuse it had taken but Steve tried his best to ignore it. With some effort, Steve rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself off the floor. Muscles protested in agony but he pushed it from his mind. He needed to leave. Fast. Steve stood and started running.
Charlie stretched her arms above her head, her shoulder popping loudly. She flinched at the noise and slight twinge it sent down her arm. She really needed to do some of those exercises she'd found on the Internet. They had helped a lot before.
"Is that your shoulder, Lotte, telling you to go to the doctors?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow. He was clearing off tables, stacking the dishes expertly without looking. Charlie rolled her eyes, sighing.
"No, Nattie. It's just tired and needs a good rest. Just like you," Charlie said. Nathan stuck out his tongue and Charlie mimicked him.
"Oi you two. Don't act childish in front of our customers," Betty reprimanded.
"No need, Betty. I've been around long enough to see everything they do. You've got your hands full, I'll tell you," Bentley commented, snapping his newspaper. Bentley was right. He had been coming to the diner ever since Betty and Nathan had taken ownership. It had been Betty's father's diner and had been passed down two generations. Bentley always came in for his morning breakfast and evening dinner. He was fifty-something years old with a streak of grey in his otherwise black hair. He had frown lines but that didn't mean he was grumpy. It just told of the hard life he'd endured and live through. Charlie thought of Bentley almost as a grandfather. In small ways, he looked out for her and she was grateful.
"Bentley, would you like another scone?" Charlie asked.
"Need you ask? Yes, please. And could you turn the radio to a news station, Charlie? If you please," Bentley suggested. Charlie smiled and nodded, turning the radio to the news station. She went back into the kitchen and placed two scones on a plate with lemon curd. As she was bringing it out, the woman's voice on the radio caught her attention.
"…it is reported that Captain America jumped out of an elevator, crashing into the lobby below. At this moment in time…" Charlie glanced at Betty and Nathan, both who had stunned looks on their faces. She mechanically gave Bentley the plate, though he didn't respond, too focused on the radio.
"This just in: S.H.I.E.L.D. has made an announcement and says…is this right? Really? Alright…" the woman's voice sounded distant and disbelieving.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. says that Captain America is a fugitive. Yes, you heard me right, Captain America, one of the Avengers is a fugitive and on the run. S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives ask that if you see him, contact the number 123-456-7889 but do not try and approach him…" Charlie stared at the radio, dumbfounded. Steve? A fugitive? That was impossible. Something wasn't right. How could S.H.I.E.L.D., the people Steve worked for, call him a fugitive?
"That doesn't sound like the man who stayed with you folks," Bentley said, breaking the silence. Charlie shook herself from her shock and looked at Betty and Nathan. They both wore faces of confusion and anger. Nathan turned to her with a serious expression on his face.
"Lotte, I think it's time you got your phone and contacted Steve. We need to make sure he's okay," Nathan urged. Charlie didn't need telling twice.