A/N: * throws chapter out and retreats *
Wooo, it has been a while, and I've missed writing like my left arm (pun intended). Thank you so, SO much to my readers and reviewers. You'll never know how much I appreciate your loyalty and sweet comments! You guys are the real MVP's.
Clearly, this is deviating from the Ultron plot, so who knows where we'll end up? (spoiler: I do.)
Enjoy the relative lack of angst while you can. Muahaha.
"The death of someone
is like
reading a book,
yet
having it end, where it wasn't supposed to."
~Cindy Vo Nguyen
At Steve's exit, an awkward feeling permeated the room. Something passed between Sam and Tony, but they said nothing. Tony went back to typing furiously at his computer, probably calculating their best options for the assault on the HYDRA compound. Sam went over to him, and they muttered quietly to each other, too soft for Avery to hear.
Pepper noticed, but her phone chose that minute to ring, so she excused herself.
Left on the couch, Avery heaved a quiet sigh, rubbing her eyes furiously. She had done it. She'd successfully enlisted the help of the Avengers. They were going to save him.
She hoped to God he could hold on for a little while longer.
Just as she was about to go to a dark place, Bruce approached her.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked. She responded in the affirmative. He eased onto the spot next to her, fiddling with his hands in an absent-minded manner. He seemed to want to talk to her, and she waited.
"So I missed the full explanation, but I'm guessing you really don't want to rehash the whole thing again," he said finally, his eyes crinkling with shy friendliness.
Avery paused, then gave an apologetic nod. She was grateful for his understanding.
"You know," he continued, "You seem a little young to be involved in...all this."
"Yeah," she replied, "Probably."
"Either that, or I'm just getting too old." He smiled at her, and she noticed the gray strands in his hair.
"Somehow I really doubt that," she said, remembering footage of the Hulk she'd seen in the news. She joked, "Then again, you were just taking a nap."
He chuckled, conceding with "That I was."
He was like a sweet, befuddled uncle. Trying to reconcile him with a giant green rage monster seemed ridiculous; a man like him probably couldn't put trash in the recycling bin, let alone demolish an entire city.
Avery's smile faded when she looked back at Sam and Tony, who were now arguing in heated, hushed tones.
"Hey," Bruce said, making her tear her eyes away from them, "Are you feeling alright?"
She blinked. "Um, yeah. Why?"
He shifted on the couch so he was facing her, coming a little closer.
"Your pupils are dilated. Quite a bit."
"Ah. I have a touch of a concussion," she said, mouth twisting. "I got tossed around a little when B- the Soldier was fighting some HYDRA agents off."
"Mmh," he said, observing her quietly. "Sorry to hear that. Do you need ice or anything?" Concern bled into his voice.
"No, I'm alright. I think I just need some rest."
He smiled somewhat provokingly, but there was pity in his eyes. "Guess I'm not the only one who takes naps."
Despite her fatigue, Avery managed a laugh. "You got me there."
"Hey, Pepper," Bruce called over his shoulder as she reentered the room, "Could you show Avery where her room is?"
"Yeah, of course. I'm sure she's exhausted."
Avery thanked Bruce and bid him farewell. He stood to go to Sam and Tony as she left the room with Pepper. Avery caught him raising his hands in a placating gesture as he neared them, trying to diffuse some tension.
Pepper shut the door behind them.
"Wait," Avery said. "I was just in the same room as the Avengers."
Pepper laughed, giving an appreciative nod. "And you are handling it remarkably well, I might add. I've seen businessmen faint just from being in Tony's presence."
A month ago, Avery would have been catatonic being among some of the greatest minds and most skilled fighters in the universe. It was amazing how quickly a person got used to outlandish situations once they'd had an amnesiac HYDRA assassin in their bedroom, commenting on their artwork.
Pepper beckoned her down the hallway.
"And this is like...normal for you," Avery pressed, catching up.
Pepper smiled and shrugged. "Sure, they can punch stuff harder than most, but they're really just a bunch of dorks."
Avery guffawed. "If you say so. Speaking of which, where's the rest of them? Thor, Hawkeye, Black Widow..."
"Previous engagements. Thor's got some political turmoil he's dealing with up in Asgard- you saw that thing on the news last year in England, right?- Natasha's undercover, and- well, we're not sure where Clint is. He'll turn up eventually. He always does."
They arrived at her door. Pepper opened it and explained where everything was. Avery listened with her mouth open.
She thought she had a good city view from her rooftop.
The whole wall was a window looking out over Manhattan, the twinkling city lights actively competing with the flaming light of the setting sun. The great shadowy buildings provided a stark contrast to the picture- but none was quite as tall as Stark Tower. Avery and Pepper were up high enough to be at plane altitude, but low enough to still make out details of the thousands of people milling on the sidewalks far below- a man in shorts pulling his suitcase out of a taxi, a vendor giving a hot dog to a young couple, someone dressed like the statue of liberty handing out pamphlets, construction workers packing up their jackhammers to head home. Smoke floated out of some vents in the ground, bicyclists sped harrowingly through seas of gridlocked cars. A crosswalk sign changed, and people rushed forward like salmon going upstream.
She drew an oddly painful breath. Bucky would love this view.
Pepper exited gracefully shortly after. One brisk shower later (she yelped in dismay when she saw her haggard reflection in the mirror- she was currently giving every grunge hipster in the area a run for his money), the full brunt of Avery's exhaustion slugged her in the face. The room was beginning to look warped and far away, and her brain felt like it was buzzing. She quickly calculated that she'd gone without sleep for almost a solid forty-eight hours.
The furniture was modern, all clean lines and neutral colors, and the bed was three times as big as the one she had at home. She fell on it, incoherent.
Predictably, it was only about seven hours before she woke up again in a cold sweat.
Bucky is in the hands of his torturers, and here you are, snoring away like it's nothing, she shamed herself.
She sat up in the bed, cradling her head in her hands. A clock on the bedside table read 2:00 A.M. The only light coming through the windows now was that of the city. Cars honked obnoxiously, in case anyone on the street had forgotten they were in New York.
An invisible hand squeezed Avery's lungs.
While the Avengers waited, who knew what unspeakable punishments HYDRA was doling out to him? Twisting his mind beyond recognition? Teaching him what happened when he dared to disobey?
What if he tried to fight back? What if he had another memory episode- one he couldn't come out of?
Avery looked down at her palm, where a ragged line of stitches still decorated the flesh. The Soldier's own handiwork.
What if, when all was said and done, he didn't remember her at all?
What if they went too far and killed him?
If they did...it would have been because of her. Because he tried to protect her when they'd grabbed her in the street.
Utterly paralyzed, she only came to her senses when she felt something warm trickle down her hand. Avery looked down, alarmed. She'd squeezed her fist so tight, the stitches had begun to bleed.
She cursed. Getting up from the rumpled bed, she rinsed off the blood in the bathroom and pressed a towel to the wound.
A few minutes later, she was wandering listlessly through the halls, trying to calm herself down. As she passed the empty study where they had all been earlier, she noticed that the open lounge next door- one with the same window set up as her room- was occupied. Someone's silhouette was casting shadows from the couch.
"Couldn't sleep?" Steve's voice floated out. He hadn't even turned, but apparently super senses included super hearing.
She pulled at her jacket, wandering slowly into the room. "Yeah. You too?" She rounded the couch, and he turned to look at her.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Not a wink."
She sat down. As painful as the situation was for her, she was reminded how agonizing it must be for him. After finding out that his friend had been brutalized for decades, largely because of him, that friend had slipped through his fingers a second time.
"...I'm sorry you've had to go through this."
He tried to hide behind a smile again. "Yeah. It's not ideal." He turned back to the city, but he was looking beyond it. Somewhere far away.
His smile faded, leaving his lips twisted in distaste.
"Tell me about him," she requested softly. It was unspoken, but they both knew she meant before HYDRA changed him.
He took a long, slow breath, then looked down and rubbed his hands together absentmindedly. "...He, ah...He was one heck of a guy."
On the street, someone was yelling at a driver that had backed into a fire hydrant.
"He was always...there. All the times I got my scrawny backside into fights I couldn't win, I'd look up, and there he was, getting knocked senseless right with me." His mouth twitched. "It's funny. You couldn't have paid the kid a hundred dollars to fight someone, but whenever a pal was involved..."
She didn't have a hard time imagining that. Even now, after decades of abuse, he'd still protected her with everything he had.
"He was the kind of guy that would fake being sick to set you up with his date— I caught on to that gag about the third time, he was a real charmer. He was the guy that made sure you were never alone when your life was goin' down the drain."
Bracing himself on his knees, he shrugged his shoulders and looked back at the skyline.
"He was my brother, plain and simple."
Secondhand grief made her feel cold. Smirking defeatedly, he added, "He'd have me add something schmaltzy about his brains or his good looks, but I'll spare you."
For his sake, she smiled. As she watched Steve try to hide his heartbreak, a fierce, powerful rage ignited in the pit of her stomach.
HYDRA had known exactly what they were doing when they found Sergeant Barnes, best friend of Captain America, dying in the snow.
Fire burning in her eyes, she leaned forward. "He's still in there, Steve."
With his response, the discrepancy between his appearance and his age was briefly banished.
He sounded ninety years old when he murmured, "I have to believe that."
Her rage choked and died. Avery opened her mouth, closed it.
They watched the chaos of the outside world, untouched by time and sound.
Not untouched by sorrow, though.