I blink away my exhaustion, taping up the last of the boxes. Last night, I called a graduate student I know who owns a house with a basement apartment she's been struggling to rent out. Thankfully she offered to let me camp there for a while until I can find a new place to call home. I spent most of last night packing, and all of this morning shuttling things to her place.
As a result, I haven't gotten a wink of sleep.
Not like it would have mattered anyway, since I can't sleep in my room. Too many lingering memories.
I hear the sudden clatter of dishes in the kitchen, and I assume it means that James has finished his breakfast. It feels weird, to attach that name to him after knowing him only as the subject for so long. I've never said it out loud, but I wonder how he'd react to being called his real name after all this time. Poor guy will probably suffer from some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder after all of this.
I wish I could help him, but he seems set on keeping to himself.
The doorbell rings, and all sounds in the kitchen cease. Oh, crap. I forgot to tell him about our visitor.
I put the roll of tape down and head to the front door. Dr. Nikolav looks like he's about to die of relief when he sees me, unharmed and in somewhat decent spirits. I usher him in, and his gaze settles behind me.
I turn to see James standing apprehensively in the kitchen doorway. He looks like he wants to bolt out of here, and I mentally kick myself. I really should have told him beforehand that my professor would be coming by. I don't want him to think that I'm selling him out to Hydra or something.
I raise a hand to signal to Dr. Nikolav to wait by the door for a moment, then walk to where James is standing, his gaze still locked on the man.
"This is my professor from my old lab. He's the most trustworthy person I know, and he's not with Hydra. He didn't work on your project, and he doesn't know anything about you, you don't have to be worried." I speak quietly, watching his reaction for any hint of a change in his thoughts. He still looks faintly uncomfortable, but at least he doesn't seem like he wants to flee any more.
"Let's talk in the kitchen." I gesture to both of them to follow me.
When we're seated at the kitchen island, I begin recounting the whole story, from day one at the lab to the downfall of Hydra. I don't sidestep around the things Rumlow said to me, but I try not to mention my relationship with him when it's not necessary. I even tell them about the USB stick, Kenji's death, and the incident with Chris in the Triskelion.
I don't include the phone call about Rumlow, though, and James doesn't seem to notice or care that I neglected to bring it up.
When I finish talking, Dr. Nikolav's face is lined with worry.
"What will happen to Hydra now that Shield has fallen apart?" His gaze flickers between James and I, but neither of us have any answers for that.
I shrug.
"I don't know. Maybe they're more prevalent than we thought… maybe this isn't all of Hydra. At any rate, I need to move and stay low. I've packed all my things."
"A wise choice." Dr. Nikolav nods in agreement, then looks expectantly at James, who remains silent. It's useless to hope for any kind of elaboration from him; he's not enthusiastic about sharing his plans or his story. He hasn't told me anything about what happened to him during the Hydra-Shield fallout. I respect that, though. It must have been hard for him to face Steve Rogers again.
"Actually Dr. Nikolav, I was hoping you could drive James to the Smithsonian today. I have something I have to do." I glance furtively at the clock. It's almost one o'clock.
"Absolutely. If he doesn't mind my manic driving, I would be happy to drive him." He agrees, flashing his jovial smile at James.
But he's not looking at Dr. Nikolav. His gaze is fixed pointedly on me.
"You're going to visit him?"
I momentarily freeze, and my professor's smile is replaced by a grave frown.
"Who, Elise? Your boyfriend?" His brow furrows in concern.
I cringe inwardly at the word boyfriend. Technically, he's an ex now.
"He's at the hospital. I just wanted to see how badly injured he is. It's the last time I'm going to see him." I make excuses like a child caught in a bad situation, and my gaze flickers between the two of them. Why am I seeking approval like I'm doing something wrong?
Easy: Because it is wrong.
I shouldn't do this. It's stupid. It's better for Rumlow (and Hydra) to think that I've died in the fighting or something than to show up out of the blue, completely uninjured.
"Elise. You have to let go." Dr. Nikolav places a comforting hand on my shoulder, his voice softening. His face is filled with worry. I hate that he's able to induce this much guilt in me.
But let's be clear here, I'm angry at Rumlow. I'm not going there to make up with the man.
"This is what I need to do to let go. I need closure." I reply firmly, plastering a smile on my face. Dr. Nikolav just looks at me for a moment, taking in my words. Then a smile appears on his face… a sad one. It tells me that he doesn't believe me, but he's not going to argue about it.
I look at James, but his face is fixed in that emotionless, observant expression.
"Well, if that's the case then just be careful. Call me when you leave the hospital." Dr. Nikolav stands, picking up his keys. "I'll drive this young gentleman to the Smithsonian."
He looks expectantly at James, who finally removes his critical gaze from me long enough to nod at him.
I walk the two of them to the door, grabbing my keys from the hook on the wall. They leave the house first, and I lock up before heading down the porch steps to my Yaris.
"Good luck on your search for answers." I give James a smile as he opens the passenger side door of Dr. Nikolav's car.
"You too." He returns my smile with a sober, expressionless nod.
I watch from the sidewalk as the car pulls into the empty street, my mind fixed on those perplexing words. I spend the drive to the hospital mostly mulling over the realization that I'll probably never see him again.
When I finally pull into the visitor parking lot, anxiety has eaten away at me. I shouldn't be here. I don't belong here. I'm not related to him. He's not a good guy… what does it look like, for me to be here visiting him like I'm some obedient pet dog? It looks stupid, that's what.
After heading through a security screening room, I'm directed to the intensive care ward. It looks like any other hospital's intensive care ward—sanitary, bleak, and busy—except for the overwhelming presence of armed men everywhere. The halls are teeming with them, dressed from head to toe in combat gear, carrying semi-automatic rifles, imposing a heavy presence.
I make my way to the main reception desk and spy a woman behind the counter, engrossed in examining her nails. She looks too old to be the nurse who called me about Rumlow; her gray hair is trimmed to a short bob, and a pair of purple spectacles are perched on the tip of her pointed nose. Her name tag reads Nancy, and I debate clearing my throat to get her attention when she raises her eyes and gives me a deep, critical once-over.
I shift uncomfortably on the spot, feeling like a hundred tonnes of pressure just landed on my shoulders. She's judging me. She's wondering why I'm here to visit an almost-Nazi.
"Well? Don't just stand there ogling. Are you here to visit your boyfriend?"
"He's not—"
She gives me a pointed look that diminishes any confidence I had when I walked in here.
"He's not my boyfriend. Not anymore." I reply meekly.
"Well honey, he's your boyfriend for the extent of this visit." She gets up from the desk, grabs a key card from the wall behind her and begins walking. "We can't allow anyone else in otherwise."
I'd thank her, but I'm not exactly thankful for this visiting opportunity. I wish the hospital had never called me. I wish I could have lived in ignorance, thinking he'd died in the fighting. I don't know if I have the courage to see him in his injured state. He never did anything to hurt me. I've never even heard him say he was with Hydra.
That's why a part of me refuses to condemn him. God, I hate that part of me. I mean, how long can I keep lying to myself? He's a bad guy, Elise.
We finally come to a security door, and the nurse turns to me, lowering her voice.
"He's sleeping right now. The drugs are keeping his pain levels down, but I'm warning you, it's not a pretty sight." She pauses, looking me in the eye, "You have an hour. He's going in for surgery this afternoon."
It's not like I'm going to stay that long anyway.
She swipes her key card and the door slides open, closing again behind me when I enter.
It's a small room, and the only sound is the light humming of the machines and ventilation system. The bed is in the center, and there's a chair to one side, beside the IV dispenser.
I don't look at him right away, not until I'm seated in the chair, able to brace myself for the impact of the scene. When I finally gather the courage to look at him, it's nowhere near as gruesome as I'd expected.
He's wearing an oxygen mask hooked up to a machine, and his eyes are closed, his breathing steady in his slumber. His bare chest is bandaged, as are his arms, and I assume his legs are too, but they're covered by a light bed sheet.
If the burns on the rest of his body are anywhere near as bad as the ones on his face, then it's clear that he met with a serious mishap during the fallout of the Hydra-Shield fight.
His sleeping face is so unfamiliar to me. The features are the same, but the burns make him seem like an entirely different person. I want so badly to reach out and touch his charred hair, just to be sure that it's really him. My hands twitch with the tactile memories of his skin… his angular cheekbones, strong jawline and rough stubble, and I clench my hands to prevent myself from touching him.
Is this really my Brock?
No, Elise.
He's not my Brock. He was never mine. I can't let myself fall into that mindset, not now. I've come so close to letting go, I'm not going to fall back now. Still, seeing him like this hurts more than I thought it would. It feels someone's driven a stake through my heart.
I wonder what he was doing when this happened. Was he fighting? Who was he fighting? Did he… did he kill anyone?
Another question crosses my mind, one that's been plaguing my thoughts ever since I found out about Hydra.
Could I have ever talked him out of this?
I mean, I'm an idiot to even be considering it… he's killed people for Hydra, people he might have cared about. He made it perfectly clear that he was willing to take lives in the name of Hydra's cause. And even though he told me that he didn't want to hurt me, even though people have been telling me over and over that he's been working behind the scenes to keep me safe… Maybe he would have killed me too, if Pierce had ultimately demanded it.
Maybe if he knew that I'm against everything Hydra stands for, he'd kill me now if he had the chance. How can I be sure? You can't change people. It's stupid to think otherwise.
That's why I'm leaving, after all.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the star pendant. It feels heavy in my palm, its reassuring weight making me want to hold on to it just a little longer… but I know that I have to do this.
I press the pendant and chain into his open right hand, gently closing his fingers around it. For a moment I stay like that, my hands resting over his closed fist, biting my lip to fight back the rising tide of emotion threatening to burst out of me.
I hear a light buzzing sound and glance over to see a cell phone vibrating on the table behind the IV stand. The damn alert must have been activated again.
I hesitate before I reach over and pick the phone up.
The screen reads "My Girl", just above two "call" and "text" buttons.
Just like that nurse said. Not rookie, not kid. Not even Elise. He had me listed as My Girl. I didn't know two words could mean so much to me.
I need to leave, or I'll start crying soon.
I place the phone back on the table, and his hand twitches faintly in my grasp. I let go, and my eyes quickly flicker to his face.
He's awake.
I hold his gaze silently for a while, unable to bring myself to speak. I have no comforting smiles or words for him, only a lot of questions.
Or just one: why?
He opens his palm slowly, revealing the star pendant. I watch him stare at it silently, and wonder if he's going to say anything—if he even can. Maybe his injuries are too severe.
"This is goodbye." I whisper, not trusting myself to speak at a normal volume without having my voice crack.
When he doesn't respond, I continue.
"I knew that you were with Hydra before all of this happened." I watch his expressionless face, searching for some hint of surprise. "I knew ever since that day that we met in the parking garage."
"I know." His lips move very slightly, and the words are faint.
"You knew?" The pent-up emotion inside me is dangerously close to spilling out.
"I knew that day when Kenji died. You were afraid of me."
"Why did you pretend that everything would magically get better once I knew? You thought I'd support Hydra? You thought I'd really be okay with that, Brock?" I feel the sting of tears biting at my eyes, and I fight back the urge to cry.
"I thought you'd accept it in time."
"You are a Hydra agent. You support this evil organization that was about to take the lives of hundreds of thousands of people for no reason except to establish your idea of "order". Mass genocide, Brock. You helped Pierce work toward it." I level an accusing glare at him.
"You didn't hate me."
No. I didn't. I was a fool. I wanted so badly to believe the lies I told myself, to pretend that everything was okay.
"I didn't know you!" I blurt out angrily, "I fell for the Brock Rumlow who was sweet, witty, and caring. The Brock Rumlow who brought me flowers and made jokes about my fighting ability and looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world. Not the Brock Rumlow working for an organization that would kill people like me in a blink of an eye."
The tears are spilling out now, and I wipe them away angrily.
"Did you even care about me?" It hurts to ask the question, and I don't want to look at his face as he answers.
"I did, Elise. I did everything I had to do to protect you. I wasn't lying when I said you were the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."
I don't reply. I can't, or I'll break down into uncontrollable sobs. I blink away the tears instead, staring at the point on his arms where the IV wires disappear into his skin.
"If you could go back and change everything, would you?" I finally raise my gaze to meet his brown eyes.
He doesn't answer right away.
"I wouldn't change anything. I did what I thought was right."
"Well, you were wrong." I stand and walk to the door. "And I can't do this anymore, Brock. I can't. Don't call me. I'm changing my number. Don't look for me, either. I don't support Hydra. I just want my peaceful life back."
"Elise…"
I turn to look at him one last time, wiping away the rogue tears streaming down my face.
"Believe me, I cared about you. I care about you."
"I know." I reply, my voice cracking at last.
The door slides open and I leave the room without another glance back, covering my face as I wipe away the tears. I silently pass the armed guards and make my way back to the reception desk.
Nancy gives me an acknowledging nod, and I leave the corridor, taking the elevator down to the hospital lobby. My feet carry me like a mindless zombie. My head is throbbing, my mind is numb, and my eyes still sting from the tears. When I pass the waiting area in the lobby, someone grabs hold of my arm, pulling me back.
I turn and find myself staring back into mildly concerned blue eyes.
"What are you doing here? Dr. Nikolav was supposed to drive you to the Smithsonian." I try to keep my voice steady, but I know he'll be able to tell I was crying just by looking at my face.
I tear my gaze away, staring at the tiled floor instead.
"He was worried about you. He asked me to follow you to make sure you were okay."
That's just like Dr. Nikolav, isn't it? He knows me too well.
"I'm fine." I turn my back to him and begin walking to the doors, "I'll drive you there now."
He doesn't question my declaration, and I'm thankful for it. Somehow, his presence makes me feel better. It reminds me that I'm not the only one who has suffered in this ordeal. There are others who were betrayed. There were others who gave their trust only to have it broken.
It's not until we're in the car that he finally speaks again.
"Are you alright?" The question sounds strange coming out of his mouth. He's an assassin. In all the time I've spent in the lab, he's never even initiated a conversation with someone, let alone express concern about another's well-being.
"I'll be fine. It's not like I loved him." I grip the steering wheel, forcing myself to swallow that lie, "We only knew each other for a while. I was wrong to think I could trust people."
It's silent, and I glance at him. He's staring out the window, and I can't see his expression.
"Thank you for worrying about me." I comment quietly, return my attention to the road ahead.
He doesn't reply. He doesn't say anything for the whole ride to the Smithsonian, for that matter.
I finally pull the car to a stop and point up ahead.
"You can walk to the museum from here. I can't park any closer."
He opens the car door and pauses, casting a glance at me.
"You weren't wrong, about trusting people." He gets out and closes the door, and I roll down the window, leaning over to say my parting words.
"If I don't see you again… good luck, James."
"Bucky." He rubs the back of his neck, "Call me Bucky. And thanks for all your help."
"Good luck, Bucky." I smile.
And for the first time since I met him, he smiles back.
The End
Author's Note:
That's all, folks! I hope it didn't seem too sudden, endings are one of the things I'm always striving to improve on. I've been planning for the story to end at chapter 50 for a while now. I hope you've enjoyed going on this journey with me. Sorry about whatever typos you've encountered along the way; I didn't have a beta reader so I just go back and continuously re-read and correct things. I'm really grateful to each and every one of you guys for following along. I'd especially like to thank those of you who took the time to write a review! It was fun to read your opinions and predictions :) Thank you especially to vilevillain, m, Cadet Deming, amatista, guest, anon, The Winters Child, ChristianBale Girl 2010, and VictoriousVirgo for being regular reviewers (hope I didn't miss anyone!).
For those of you who have been following along since May, thank you for your dedication and patience!
There are a couple questions I'm going to address here:
1. Will there be a sequel? – As you may or may not know, Brock Rumlow will likely be coming back as the villain Crossbones in a future Captain America movie. Strike Out was based entirely on the MCU version of events. I hesitate to write anything further based on the comic universe, so I'll probably wait until we see Rumlow again in the MCU before I write a sequel. It's a long time away, I know! :( One potential option brought up by a reader on AO3 is to do a spinoff story of Taye & Jack Rollins. I'm not sure how it would work yet, but it would be fairly short compared to Strike Out. Would you guys be interested in this? Leave me a comment and let me know!
Edit as of June 5, 2015: I'm beginning a spinoff/sequel called 'When Our Stars Cross', you can find it on my profile!
2.Who is Elise's face claim? (asked by Guest) – Actually, I'm really bad at assigning actors & actresses to characters, so Elise doesn't have a particular face claim. x'D I don't even have a set image of what she looks like other than the fact that her hair is shoulder length. It's neat to see what people think she looks like though!
UPDATE oct. 31st - Guest: re: the timing of the fic, I agree, personally I'd love to be able to write the sequel sooner but I don't feel comfortable writing too far out of the canon MCUniverse, so that's why I don't want to start it before anything is concrete. If I wrote a fic based entirely on speculation without knowing where marvel is going to take rumlow's story line, to me that would feel like it's not even a fic anymore and I'd rather dedicate that imagination/effort to original work xD At the moment I'm working on completing an original novel (at least during november; it's nanowrimo y'all), so it's also an issue of time.
And actually I left that ending open and ambiguous with the hopes that even if the rumlow storyline doesn't work out in the future, maybe there's room for a bucky-elise sequel, so you're not wrong at all! I'm really touched that you put so much thought into my fic ;w; thanks again for your support!
If anyone has any other questions, leave them in a review (or on the Archive of Our Own edition of this story)! I'll answer them in a review comment on this chapter.
Let me know what you thought of the story (things you liked, things that could use improvement, things that surprised you, your favourite parts, etc!) and thank you so much for reading!