Installation

FanGirlForever19: Thank you for leaving multiple reviews! Getting them in one after another really made my day, and I'm so glad you're loving the story!

NileyFreakk: Your review is entirely on point. The growing amount of care for each other + showing different sides of Bucky has been incredibly fun to do!

It took a few tries before we found our rhythm. I made some missteps and put my foot where it didn't belong at least ten times, but he was patient. As the sun sank down and made way for the moon and stars, we continued to dance, the thought of danger far far away.

"Still, you should have told me! The hospital called, and all of us were worried sick!"

"I know, mom, I know," I replied as I hefted a box into the bathroom. "They just did what they're supposed to do. I wasn't exactly in the position to call."

My mother sighed over the line. "I understand. I've just been worried about you, lately. You've been working so hard on all the election coverage, and we've hardly heard from you."

I sat down on the end of my bed and paused to look at the grey walls. I had been halfway through unpacking when they came and brought me a phone. They said I could call my family, that the line was secure, but that I would only be able to speak to them this once for the next while. They couldn't risk the call being traced.

Tears welling up in my eyes, I swallowed hard. "I know. I'm sorry I've been so busy. Sometimes life just…happens that way."

"Well, maybe now that you can't work for a few weeks, we could come and see you?" my mother suggested. "It's been a while since I've been to New York, anyways. We could bring your brother, make sure you get taken care of-"

"Mom, really, I'll be fine," I stressed. "The car accident wasn't that bad, it was just a bigger fracture than usual in my femur. Two weeks, and I'll be out."

I could almost hear her worry growing. "But don't you need someone to take care of you? To help you get back to your apartment?"

My mouth went dry as my mind scrambled to think of an excuse. Before I could, however, there was a knock at the door, and James was entering my room. I motioned for him to keep silent, and he nodded.

An answer suddenly popped into my head. "Don't worry, mom. A friend's taking care of me."

"A friend? Who?"

I had to bite my tongue when I noticed the way James was trying to act like he wasn't listening. "A new friend, you don't know him."

"Oh, so it's a he, hm?"

A laugh burst out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Shut up, mom. Don't start on this again," I joked.

"Eliza, you are twenty five years old and haven't been on a proper date in two years! You need to stop-"

"-focusing on my career so much, I know," I finished. It wasn't the first time I'd heard those words. "I'll try to get out more, okay?"

"Good! Do you think you'll make it for Thanksgiving?"

My throat suddenly felt tight, and I took in a sharp breath. James looked at me in concern, but I motioned for him to stay quiet.

"I…" my voice trailed off. "I'm not sure. The doctor said recovery time could last longer than we initially thought."

My mother sighed. "Honey, are you sure you don't want us to-"

"Yes, mom, I'm sure," I interrupted. "I'll be there for Christmas, I promise." James' eyes suddenly turned sympathetic, and he made his way to sit beside me.

"Okay, Eliza. You get better soon, now, alright?" my mother requested. "Don't go jumping out of a plane or anything."

A small chuckle came out of my throat. "I'll try not to. I love you, mom. Tell dad I said hi."

"I will. I love you too, Eliza."

A shuddered breath left my lips as the line cut. I could feel his worried gaze on me, but I couldn't look. I knew the tears would start falling. I heard him take in a breath to speak, but he stopped himself, opting instead to reach out his metal hand. I placed my hand in his and shut my eyes.

I'd never really considered it before, the feeling of living metal on my skin. I let my thumb smooth over the seams, marveling at how oddly human it was. Almost like scars. The feeling of cool metal began to set my mind at ease. I vaguely wondered how he'd gotten through it. How he dealt with the pain. A part of me wondered why they'd needed me in the first place. Sure, he had his problems, but he was by no means a worst case scenario. So why did they choose me?

"…just wanted to make sure you were okay."

My eyes opened, and I found myself trying to process what he'd said. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine."

He leveled me with a steady look. "Eliza-"

"I said I will be," I cut him off. "Not that I am. There's a difference."

"I know," he murmured. "I'm just making sure that you know. Don't rush it, take the time to deal with your emotions in the present, not down the road."

A sardonic grin settled on my face. "I thought I was the psych major, here."

James shrugged, getting up from the bed. "Don't have to be a psych major to gain experience."

Knowing his background, I could only nod in agreement.

Two hours later, I was walking down the hall with Ian. All of the crew had been split up into different locations for a debriefing. Given my non-Avenger status, I wasn't allowed to go with James, though both he and Steve had protested vocally about it.

"So where are we going?" I asked, jogging to keep up with Ian's long strides.

"Non-combatants meeting," he replied quickly. "We're not the ones out on the field, but they still need us."

I nodded in response, but found myself confused. What was my purpose in being here? If I was just a target, then why did I need to come to this meeting? A minute later, we were taking our seats in a room filled mostly with doctors, scientists, and administrative specialists. I felt awkward, finding that, as expected, I didn't fit into any of those categories.

A man I recognized as Dr. Selvig entered the room, shuffled his way up to the front, and set his coffee cup down on the precarious angle of a metal podium. "Alright, everyone, take your seats. This might take a while," he grumbled.

Everyone did as they were told, much to the approval of Dr. Selvig.

"Thank you. Because of the attack on the Avengers Facility, we have, as you probably already know, begun to calculate counter measures."

"And against whom are these counter measures being formed?" an young looking doctor asked. "I believe we have a right to know why we were relocated."

Dr. Selvig fixed the man with a bored expression. "Look mister I-have-a-degree, we get that everyone's upset. You've been called into this meeting to get the information you just ever so eloquently requested, so if you can possibly refrain from asking your questions until the end, I would be incredibly grateful."

I found myself smiling at Dr. Selvig's comeback. He reminded me of a professor I once had, and he already looked like he'd had enough of this. I sat back, ready to find some amusement in his demeanor, when I heard something I didn't expect.

"I was told that someone by the name of…" he trailed off, pulling a crumpled sheet of paper from his shirt pocket. "…uh, Elizabeth Reynolds?"

My heart felt like it'd been shot with a lethal dose of electricity. Ian cast me a confused look, which didn't ease my worry. I stood up shakily, holding up my hand.

Dr. Selvig's eyes brightened. "Ah, yes, you! Come up here, they told me I'd need some help with the details, and, ah…you're apparently the person for that."

One step in front of another, I slowly made my way up to the front of the room. At the old facility, I was just another person passing through. Here, I could feel everybody's eyes on me.

It was almost as though he could sense my nervousness, because Dr. Selvig gave me a wink and whispered, "Don't worry, you'll be fine." After I nodded, he fished a marker out of his pocket, turned around, and began to write letters on the board. I recognized them immediately, my eyes widening in horror.

"They're called A.I.M.," Dr. Selvig stated factually, drawing a line under the acronym for emphasis. "They were a part of HYDRA-"

"I thought we already finished HYDRA off?" the young doctor interrupted.

Dr. Selvig's shift in stance told me he was about to mouth the man off again, but I spoke before he could. "To the ignorant bystander, yes, they seem like the same thing. But they're far from the same," I warned.

At Dr. Selvig's nod, I continued, taking in a deep breath. "They were together…once. But after the war, problems started to show, political differences got in the way, and they split. A.I.M. became its own organization, filled mostly with scientists."

I took the marker from Dr. Selvig and drew a timeline on the board, marking 1960 as the beginning date and adding the phrase "seceded from HYDRA" under it.

"They kept quiet for a while, setting up bases on nearly every continent, acting like the good guys," I said, making a space between 1960 and 2001. "But all this time, their scientists became more and more crooked. Some of the worst psychological case studies in history were caused by these guys, but no one knew about it for so long. Stanford Prison experiment in '71? Funded by them. A test to see how far humans would go under pressure."

"Before long, they were dealing with subversive governments, and then-" I paused, marking 2001 clearly. "9/11. They'd been dealing under the table with terrorists for years, and it finally came to fruition. NATO tried to track them down, but it was too hard. They were everywhere and nowhere all at once. Every time our guys stormed a base, it'd be empty. They'd vanished without a trace."

"Until now," Dr. Selvig finished. "That's why we need you guys. Wherever they go, they leave a trace of promethium, one of just two stable elements with radioactive isotopes. From this moment on, all scientists concentrate on tracking their trail. We don't need them destabilizing that promethium anytime soon. Everyone else, if you have a background in science, you are more than welcome to help. If not, get back to your usual jobs and get ready. We've got a storm comin'."

A moment of silence passed before people started to file out, one by one. Dr. Selvig patted me on the arm. "Thanks, kid. I always had a hard time remembering all that."

Dazed, I simply nodded. I must have stood there for a full minute before I was able to get my wits together and start toward the door. My hand had just reached the handle when I heard my name.

"Miss Reynolds, another minute."

I turned to see none other than Mr. Coulson. How I'd missed him was beyond me, but there he was, sitting in the back row of the room. He gestured to the seat next to him, and I sat down warily.

He waited a moment before he asked, "Is that all there is to it?"

My head tilted. "All there is to what?"

"The story," he clarified. "Just some Nazi science division gone bad again?"

I sat up straighter, feeling defensive. "Yes, that's all there is to it. They were history until the other day."

Mr. Coulson seemed to be fighting back a smile as he put his head down. "I didn't mean to insult your knowledge, Miss Reynolds. I was just making sure those were still the facts."

"Facts are facts, Mr. Coulson," I replied. "I'm just telling you what I've learned."

"And if you didn't have all the facts?"

Mr. Coulson must have seen my confused look, because he continued.

"What you told is the version of history we've created. There's much, much more to be read…are you interested?"

"In what?" I challenged.

"Helping."

"It's not my job."

"It is if you're willing. I already know you're able."

The wheels in my mind were spinning double time. Their version of history…what else could there be to know?

Mr. Coulson grinned, grabbing a file from the chair on the other side of him. "Read it. Let me know what you think. I want your opinion. Our scientists are good, but not good enough to track promethium. These enemies, these people…they're human. We need to start acting like they are. We need to predict their next move."

I glanced down at the file in my hands, the word "CLASSIFIED" staring at me in bright red. "And how will I do that?" I inquired.

Mr. Coulson just smiled. "You'll see it, don't worry."