Author's Note: This chapter title comes from The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N. K. Jemisin.

Chapter Twenty-Two - There is nothing (hope)

"Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting your presence on the common floor."

"Not now, J," Tony mumbled. "Help me look for anything identifiable in this picture instead. Anywhere that could tell us where it was taken."

"Sir, I have assisted you in this endeavor twenty-three times already. The background of this photograph has not changed. I'm sorry to say that I don't believe that this one picture will help us find her."

Tony took a long, deep breath, staring unblinking at the photo projected in front of him: Danielle unconscious on a metal table, hair buzzed, surgical mask over her face, and bags under her eyes. "I need to find her. Just help me."

"I do believe Captain Rogers is insistent."

"JAR—"

"A package has arrived and Captain Rogers believes the contents could be related to Hydra, but he's unable to open it without damaging whatever is inside."

Tony froze. "Hydra?" At that, he shoved himself for the elevator. "Common floor, JARVIS!"

"Right away, Sir."

Tony bit nervously at his nail before scowling and jerking his hand down. Forcing a deep breath, he ran his hands through his hair and winced when he felt that they were still slick with oil. The moment the elevator doors opened, he said, "I need a towel!"

Bruce blinked from his spot at the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea. "Um, okay." He opened a drawer and tossed a hand-towel over.

Tony wiped his hands clean and moved towards where Steve and Sam were gathered. He frowned at the large metal box. "Uh . . . has USPS changed the types of boxes they deliver?"

"USPS didn't deliver it," Steve said, glancing at him. "It was on the kitchen table in my suite when I came back from my run."

Tony frowned. "Someone got in the building? J?"

"None of my alarms or security measures were tripped," the AI responded.

"None— Alright." He groaned. "And why do you think it's Hydra?"

Steve held out a gift tag. "This was attached to it."

Tony frowned at the back of the gift tag. "People actually do presents on St. Patrick's Day?" he asked, pointing at the shamrock.

"Tony," Steve said warningly. "Trust me. You're . . . gonna want to look at the other side.

Tony flipped it over. And froze.

To: Tin Can

From: Goose, courtesy of Red Head

"I . . . ." He wet his lips. "Goose is what Rhodey calls Dani," he rasped.

"I know," Steve said softly. "Tin Can is, well, you, I guess. She's called you that before, right?" He waited for Tony's nod before continuing. "And Red Head? Red Skull."

Tony looked down at the box. "This box was handmade so that it couldn't be opened easily. I— Dani built this."

Steve frowned. "You sure?"

"Positive. I— Get it down to my workshop. We'll crack it."

"Winter," she whispered. "Winter, are you awake?"

He groaned but didn't look up, still face down on his pillow. "I am now. Turn off the lamp, wouldja?"

"Um, I would, I just—"

"Nightmares?" Now, he did look up. He studied her shaky demeanor for a second before nodding and shifting to the side.

Danielle smiled gratefully and turned off the lamp. She lifted the edge of his blanket and slid under it. A cold metal arm came around around her bare middle and his thumb started drawing circles on her ribs. "Talk," he ordered.

She shuddered and curled into his hold. "I, uh. Strucker had me. Branded me again for trying to escape a second time."

His hand moved to feel the burn, sliding under her bra strap in order to put proper pressure on the scar. "He won't get you again. I promised, remember? You're fine."

Danielle turned over and ran her fingers up his arm, up the machine she'd put together, and paused at the intersection of flesh and metal. She pressed her fingers in there. "Hey, Winter?"

"Hmm?"

"After Hydra is gone, after we've gotten rid of all the bases, what . . . what are we going to do then?"

He frowned and closed his eyes, turning the question over and over in his head. Then he pulled her closed and tucked her under his chin. "By then," he murmured, "I'm hoping you'll feel confident enough to go home."

Danielle squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best to pretend she didn't feel the tears sneaking out. She was silently grateful that he didn't say anything as they soaked into his neck. "I am home," she whispered.

"This is Dani's handwriting."

Natasha looked up from the page she was reading. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Tony snapped. She offered him a flat look and held out her hand. He sighed and handed the paper over. "Sorry," he mumbled.

She took it and studied the note in the margin of the paper. "It is hers. Confirmed, then, Goose is Danielle. Which means she's made it out of Hydra."

"But then why isn't she here," Tony hissed. "And how did she get the files anyway."

"She's not alone." Clint snatched the paper from Natasha and compared it to the one he was reading. "The handwriting on this one is different. Someone else was reviewing these with her. Tasha?"

She took the papers from him and the magnifying glass Bruce offered. "Male handwriting," she murmured. "But whoever it is, if it's even one person, writes in several different languages. Handwriting shifts so much from language to language that I'm not sure if it's one person or twelve. But Danielle is definitely not alone."

"The question, then, is who is with her?"

It was the dangerous change in his breathing that alerted her sensitive hearing that something was wrong. Danielle awoke, eyes still closed, and listened to Bucky's heavy, disturbed attempts at getting air. It was the sound of his metal hand creaking that threw her into action. Danielle rolled up out of her bed and lunged across to his.

"Winter? Winter! Look at me, look at me. Пожалуйста, посмотрите на меня." [Please look at me.]

He froze and went still. Absolutely still. Danielle leaned over and turned on the lamp before rising back up on her knees to look down at him. She reached over towards his left arm and worked his fingers away from where they were denting his palm. He groaned a little. When she looked back up at him, he was opening his eyes.

"Nell?"

She grinned down at him. "There you are. Where'd you go?"

"Um . . . ." With a pained moan, he pushed himself up and brought his hand to his head. "Sri Lanka, I think. 1988."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound like a nice year. I like this year better."

"What year is that?" he asked, pushing his fingers harshly against his temples.

"2014. We're doing recon on a Hydra base in Fortaleza, Brazil. This will be our fifth Hydra base takedown. My name's Danielle Stark. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Last night, we ordered nineteen pizzas between the two of us and we were still hungry so we got some Chinese delivered as well. You follow?"

He nodded, eyes screwed shut.

"You with me?"

"My head just aches," he rasped.

Danielle reached up and gently nudged his hands away. She massaged his temples. "You trust me, right?" When he nodded, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the Tesseract energy and circulating it through her fingers. A few seconds later, Bucky groaned in relief and his arms came around her. She squeaked as he dragged her closer so that he could rest his forehead on her shoulder. "Better?" she asked quietly, adjusting so she could pressed her fingers against the back of his head and keep the energy up.

"Yes," he murmured. "Thank you."

"Five deliveries," Tony hissed. "Five! Five in as many months and we don't know how they're getting inside the building," —he started listing off on his fingers— "we don't know how the information is being gathered, we don't know who it is running around with Danielle, and speaking of Danielle, we still don't know where my daughter is!"

"Tony," Steve said, frowning down at the familiar metal, gift tagged box. "Panicking isn't going to help the situation."

"I am not panicking!"

"You are, Tony," Natasha said, crouching in front of the box and studying the gift tag. "Breathe. Also, Danielle isn't the one that wrote this tag. Our unidentified male is. Same words, though."

"What? Oh, god, oh, god. He's trying to cover up that he killed her. Oh, god—"

"Tony!" Natasha snapped, looking up. "He didn't kill her. She's still alive. Whoever this person is, he's smart, otherwise he wouldn't be able to keep up with the deductions Danielle is making in her notes. So obviously he'd know that we can tell the handwriting is different. Now sit down and remind yourself to breathe."

Tony dropped down to the floor and dropped his head into his hands. Steve watched him worriedly and exchanged a glance with Natasha. Coffee, she mouthed. His shoulders slumped with relief at a way to help and he hurried away to the elevator.

Natasha took the blowtorch and got to work. "Tony," she said softly, "Danielle's a smart girl. She's gotten away from Hydra and, from what we're seeing, it looks like she's getting back at them too. She's okay."

"You don't know that."

"No. No, I don't."

She woke up on the ceiling again. Danielle caught her breath and steadied the Tesseract energy keeping her up. "W-winter?" she called.

She heard a grumbled and was able to turn her head enough to see his dark form shifting out from under his covers. He reached over and turned the lamp on. Then he froze. "What the hell?"

"Uh, I, I'm not sure how to get down."

"What are you doing?" he demanded, scrambling up from his bed.

"I think I'm levitating, though correct me if I'm wrong and dear god I've never been scared of heights but I am scared of not knowing what's going on, so get me down."