The helmet tumbled to the ground, dropped and forgotten. His uniform, she looked at it carefully, was intricate, but she glanced at the connecting points, knowing full well that she could get it off. His bright blue gaze scorched her, eyes traveling up and down over her body mere seconds before his hands do. The shield was abandoned, joining the helmet. The touch sends shivers throughout her, the fervency fueling her as well as him. She leaned up, tasting his lips, his mouth, deepening it with every turn. Fingers slid through his hair, down to the fasteners at his neck. She felt herself being nudged back, her name tumbling out as he traced a trail along her jaw, down her throat. Pieces of uniform and clothing vanished, as if into thin air, his chest pressing against hers, the fire of his skin transferring to her and back again. Lashes fluttering, she sighed, arching up...

A blaring sound cut through, startling Holly. Jerking slightly, she lifted her head from the pillow, hooded eyes glaring at the red digital numbers. Growling under her breath, she turned away, her brow screwing up in contempt.

"Oh, come on," she huffed, the vestiges of her dream melting away as she smacked the alarm off. The tingling in her body was beginning to subside, and she wished she could sink back into sleep to reclaim it. Rolling onto her side, she clenched her legs together, pressing her face into her pillow and groaning into it exasperatedly. It was too late for falling back asleep, now; the sheets were knotted around her, and she struggled against them briefly as she forced herself to sit up. One thing she could be glad of was that Steve would be coming back to D.C. in a few days. Their plan of alternating between New York and Washington worked in her favor this week. At least in her apartment, they would have privacy. Perhaps they would not have a whole floor to themselves, but that did not guarantee none of the team members would turn up while they were engaged in an amorous pursuit. She flushed a little at that, recalling an incident at the end of January, the sudden swish of the outer door of the quarters and Dr. Banner's completely mortified expression as he stopped asking his questions, instead rooting in place in embarrassment. For the most part, they had been clothed, but still she had bolted out of Steve's lap, vaulting over the sofa in an attempt to shield herself and find the shirts that had been flung away. Holly had trouble looking the doctor in the eye for the remainder of her time at the Tower.

On the positive side, at least the door knocking policy had a reason to be reinstated, despite Tony's protests that JARVIS was enough of a deterrent. Most of the group had conceded to the new stipulation on the off-chance that they could accidentally walk in on Stark and Pepper in flagrante one of those days, given the override abilities most of them had on the privacy settings. Still, the high spots of red on both Steve's and her cheeks spoke for themselves when the vote was taken.

Lazily wrapping her comforter around her, Holly wandered out to the bathroom, dropping her fluffy cover as she stepped into the small room and turned on the shower. Though pleasant, she didn't miss Steve purely for the physical part of their relationship. That was rather new, in comparison to the companionship offered, to the deep love and comfort they shared with one another. The dry humor, that little half grin, the stuff she didn't think she'd ever tire of. Even with it pitted against his stubbornness, his sharp attitude, the sometimes brutal aspects of his honesty.

Shedding her pajamas and stepping under the cold spray, she waited until the final cobwebs of her driven dreams were cleared before turning up the heat. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, reveling in it. The heat of the water was a poor substitute of the warmth she wanted, but again, she would make due in the meantime. Going through her morning routine, she considered her schedule. Work, certainly, with a stop at the batting cages to keep her form up afterward (her baseball bat was still a constant companion, her weapon of choice when it came to defending herself; it worked before, why not again?), and perhaps she would prepare another copy of her manuscript's first chapter to mail to another publisher. Thus far, she had not heard back from the ones she shipped copies to in January, though it was to be expected. Still, she had hopes that maybe this would be the day she would get a call, an email, a promise that one of the literary agents liked her work, wanted to publish it. Maybe, maybe.

Until that time came, she'd be in her back office, filling in orders and deciding shifts for the part-timers.

Once dressed and gnawing on a granola bar as she went to her car, Holly fiddled with her phone, arming the security alarms on her apartment and receiving a status update from JARVIS about the conditions both in and out of her building (one visit and Tony had the entire property bugged with his tech; her landlord did not appreciate the effort, but he had let it slide purely for the benefits it provided for his building). Though the program had, via commands from Stark and the captain, been able to mask any of her personal and public records from the general public, there were ways for people to figure out who she was and where she lived without resorting to an online address search. One time, she'd parked in her lot and found a couple people set up in camp chairs, her boyfriend's shield insignia decorating them and tipping her off. On those days, she would either spend a few hours at either Sam's house, or her friend Sarah's apartment, when she could use the cover of darkness to sneak into her building, or sleep over until morning. This day, however, the property was clear, and she could make her way to her car with ease.

A spidery tingle crawled along her spine, the intangible brush catching her attention and causing her to pause in her journey. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw nothing but the other assorted vehicles, the trash dumpsters and the tree break along the south end of the lot. The sense of eyes on her, though, did not vanish. Carefully, she climbed into the driver's seat, flicking the locks as she took out her phone again.

"JARVIS?" she asked, tapping the screen and cutting her gaze out the window again. Sticking her key in the ignition, she fired up her car and waited as it warmed up, still seeing nothing.

"Yes, ma'am?" the UI responded (Tony's sharp correction on the program's state still ringing in her head several days on), not perturbed in the least to be contacted again. For a moment, she second-guessed herself. Was it worth it to even ask? She could just be acting paranoid. Shaking her head, she drew in a quick breath before going ahead.

"Can you scan the building again? Just to be safe?"

Her phone made a couple of clicks and beeps, a short few seconds of work.

"Secondary scan shows no signs of intruders or other unknown entities in the vicinity. Unless the dubious ice cream vendor makes an appearance in the next ten seconds, it should remain so until you leave the property."

Chewing that over in her mind, Holly muttered under her breath. "Huh."

"Are you well, Miss Martin? Your vitals appeared level when you exited the apartment, but the pressure with which you're holding your cellular device indicates a spike of tenseness."

Automatically, she loosened her grip, taking the comment as a reproof, though she knew that it was just a statement of fact. She blew out another breath, placing the phone in the cup holder and buckling her seat belt.

"No, I'm okay," she explained, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the spot. "Just a little jittery this morning...maybe too much coffee lately."

"Perhaps you should make the switch to decaf, ma'am?" JARVIS suggested, a note of concern in the words. For not being a real person, JARVIS showed an amazing amount of caring and sympathy towards humans. She appreciated that, even when her nerves were a little tight.

"Probably should. I'll think about it," Holly murmured, pulling out of the lot and onto the road. Maybe it was too much caffeine; it wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened to her. As she drove on, the crawl up her back had subsided, and she began to relax. Chalking up her earlier feelings to the suspected paranoia, she went into work with her head held up high and her spine straight.

Once again, she was in her office the majority of the day, typing up reports and putting in book orders, Carl popping in and out as the hours ticked by to go over the scheduled events for March since it was fast approaching. Two local authors would have signings and discussions, three kid events, and a St. Patrick's Day themed week were on the docket, as well as getting in someone to replace Alex (the kid finally got fed up with his minimum wage post and decided to strike out for Youtube gamer fame, as far as Holly could tell from the notice she was handed a few days prior). On and off she was pulled out to answer some questions and to help the other part-timer at the till as needed. Keeping busy distracted her, kept her mind far away from the morning's unsettled moments. Given time, it could be forgotten.

Choosing to take dinner out with Sarah that evening, the two young women went at an Italian place off of Connecticut Avenue (the petite blonde doing the driving; she wanted to show off her new car). Food and drinks buffeted the conversation, the occasional quick glances of the other patrons ignored. Sarah was training yet another set of girls for competition dancing along with wrangling adults in her ballroom workshop for the next seven weeks. She suggested, once again, for Holly to bring Steve along for a class or two. He'd shown some promise in the private lessons she gave him before New Year's, and given his athletic prowess he could be just as adept at dancing as he was at kicking ass.

"Well, if the whole fighting bad guys thing stops working out, at least he'll have a fall-back plan. You know, something other than that whole art school training he went through," Holly remarked sarcastically, taking a bite of fettuccini alfredo. Gesturing with her fork, she went on. "Concentrate on teaching Aaron."

Smiling, the young blonde clucked her tongue at the mention of her partner. "I've tried, but the big guy has two left feet. His little sister got all the good genes in that regard. Anyway, it was just a suggestion. I know it's lucky that you get to see him between...jobs, as it is."

Holly hummed in agreement, raising her eyebrows minutely at the chosen reference to the Avengers' missions. Sarah shrugged; how else could she describe what they did discreetly in a public place? Conceding the point silently, Holly instead changed the subject to the bookstore, speculating about the first author scheduled to come in for their signing. She hoped the guy's ego was as inflated as the last one; she could understand if the fellow had been Stephen King or something. But the guy was a complete asshat touting pseudo-scientific bullshit in the second of his self-help book series. Sarah tutted at that, and so the conversation progressed to families, the rest of the week's plans, the discussion of what Holly would be able to do once she was able to sell her book to someone. Their respective Valentine's Day events were shared, both of them agreeing their men had done well, as well as themselves. Despite one or two hiccups.

"He locked you out of the room?" Sarah crowed as they left the restaurant, coats on and huddling close to one another. As they moved, the duo focused solely on themselves, awareness of the shadows and darkness just beyond the streetlights banished.

"Just long enough to cover the bed in rose petals and get the wine out of its hiding spot." Holly bit her lip, trying to hide the smile. He certainly did give her a surprise, that was for sure. "Knew him wanting to get dressed alone in the room was fishy. Good thing I'd already changed by that point. He's crafty."

"He's trained on a military and super spy level to be so. No wonder he got away with it," Sarah posited, not a little snarky. Holly snickered at herself.

"That distinctly honest streak he has is a great cover, seriously." Shrugging again, she tilted her head, shifting her hair out of her face. Out of nowhere, the cold fingertip that traced her spine that morning came back, digging in a little harder. It was stronger, closer, but she had no idea what was going on. Pausing in her steps, Holly's head whipped around, her dark eyes scanning the street. Just the normal passersby gliding to and fro around them, but...something was off. Sarah's brow screwed up in confusion, a little alarmed by the drastic shift in her friend's expression.

"What's up?"

A couple more steps, and the pair were in front of a narrow alley. It was positioned too far to be within the range of the streetlamps, but Holly got a weird feeling about it. Motioning for Sarah to stay back, she stared down it, as if looking into the soul of some fell beast hiding in the shadows.

Fight or flight. Everyone had that instinct when danger reared its ugly head. Holly never knew whether to rightly classify what she had as either fight or flight. It was more like "wait and see" when it came to her impulses. If her choices were at all consulted, she reckoned she would prefer to be a flight person. Might allow her to live longer. She was too driven to discover what or who was going on; her actions during the helicarrier disaster was a good example of that, when she had done nothing but hunker down and watch the explosions from behind a tree on the riverbank. Based on experience, if she ran at the first sign of trouble, she wouldn't have any idea of what exactly she was running from. She wanted to know. It likely would get her killed one day, probably even that very day. Swallowing hard, she could not will her feet to turn her around and book it to her car.

Taking her phone out of one pocket, palming her taser in her other hand, she unlocked the flashlight function and pointed it down the alley. Tempering her breathing, she took one step in, the light grazing over debris and discarded trash, the dumpster at the end pressed into a corner and out of the way to allow access to the other alley that connected to it. In the darkness, the shadows moved, but she could not see that. Bracing herself, she took another step, a shaky breath escaping her lips. The scuffle beyond her phone's light came again, as if to come towards her. Gasping, she jerked back when the sounds turned into something rebounding off the brick, a struggle that suddenly distanced itself from her. A single grunt was heard, and when she swept her camera light around, the direct glare of raised metal shined into her eyes, forcing her to recoil and close them for a moment. Snapping them open as quickly as possible, she squinted against the tiny spots dancing in her vision, unable to hear anymore from the alley. Padding into it, she hoped against hope that all she'd heard was a hobo shying away and trying to not to be caught. Or a couple of stray cats...that knocked around a metal pole. The drainage pipe on the far wall was bent out, but she was fairly certain that was not the metal she'd seen before. Pointing her phone at the ground, Holly couldn't see any drag marks or footprints due to the pavement. Nobody was there, the single fire escape ladder on the next building swaying when she rounded the corner. It shook as if someone had just gotten finished with climbing it; the wind wasn't strong enough to push it around. Whoever had done it was in a hurry. They didn't want to bother with her. Exhaling, Holly shook her head, leaning against the wall, pressing her knuckles against the tags around her neck.

"Holl! What's going on?" Sarah's voice was distant, but it recalled her back to the present, out of her rushing thoughts. Something was down that alley, had seen her. Her gut told her that it wasn't anything good, but the hackles on the back of her neck were settling, each breath she took a reassurance. What she had done was stupid, but she could walk away, do something with it. Whatever it was, it was gone, taken care of. Shining the beam of light around her one more time, she walked backwards out of the alley, shaking her head once she came out on the sidewalk, awash in the glow of the street lamps.

"Nothing," she told her friend, ignoring the skeptical glare in Sarah's eyes. Determinedly, Holly strode away from the space, tucking her taser back in her coat pocket and linking arms with her best friend. "Let's go. Now."

"Whatever you say. Did you see anything?"

"No," Holly confessed, lowering her voice as they passed a couple of other people, "and that's what worries me."

Swiftly she set the pace down the sidewalk, breaking away from Sarah as they approached her car. Quickly, she climbed into the vehicle, buckling as her friend threw the car into drive and took them away. Once she got home, she had some phone calls to make, some research to do. Just a short drive away.

xXxXxXx

"Steve...yeah, I'm, I'm fine...figures you'd catch on quick. Yeah, no, nothing's happened. Babe, I promise. Seriously, you're going to argue over semantics? Okay, I swear, then. Happy? Good. But, listen, I do think it's time to, um, to take up one of those options we talked about. The ones we went over back in September. After...yeah...I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are 'I told you so'...Oh, I'm feeling the love, sweetheart."

xXxXxXx

Holly leaned into her couch, staring at the point above her television for a long time, as if examining the paint on the wall for deficiencies. In truth, she was thinking, her brain working furiously over everything. Choices were made, and she had to go through with another one. Sitting up again, inhaling quietly as she went into her apps again, waiting for the next connection to be made.

In New York, up in the beacon-like Avengers Tower, the wall display in one of the higher apartments chimed. Bustling from the other room, the man made one last scrub at his cropped hair with a towel before tossing it onto a nearby armchair. Swiping the display with a finger, he was surprised at the woman on the screen, her dark eyes wary and her opening smile hesitant.

"Hello?" he greeted, the end of the sentence turning up despite his efforts. The camera on her end shifted as she waved a little at him.

"Hi, Clint," Holly said. It was odd, talking to him. They had gotten along fine, for the most part, whenever she chanced to run into him at the Tower, but she definitely wouldn't say she and Barton were close. Hawkeye liked to observe things, people, from a distance, but that aspect of his character didn't conceal his natural ability to connect with others. Something about him made her feel comfortable when she spoke with him, even in passing. Calling him felt like a good thing to do, like calling her brother when she was in trouble back in the day.

"Hey there. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Or live video chat, I suppose," Clint amended, pulling up another chair and perching in it. Crossing his arms over his chest, he paused, wanting to hear the story behind this. Observing the quirk of her eyebrows, the way her gaze cut away and back to him, he could feel the nervousness rolling off her, even through the open channel.

"I was...okay, I really am not in any position to ask you for a favor, but I..." she broke off, collecting her thoughts once more before continuing. "I need some help. And I thought..."

Clint sat up straighter then, lines creasing his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. At least, nothing yet," she sighed, the hand holding the device on her end drooping for a moment (cell phone, due to the angle and the way the screen wavered slightly ever couple of seconds). Casting a look at the phone, one that Clint recognized all too well from personal experience, she pinched the bridge of her nose briefly. "I've just had a lengthy conversation with Steve about...things, and I've decided it's time to get some actual self-defense training. It's something I've been dragging my feet on for awhile, but I can't anymore."

Clint nodded, taking time to ask, "What changed?"

Here Holly's hand moved away from her face, off the screen. The emotion her eyes, the one that she had been quelling as they spoke, surfaced quickly. Fear. Catching it, he did not remark upon it. Fear was common, but what was she afraid of? Tucking her hair behind her ear, Holly shrugged, her voice inadequate for a moment.

"I feel in my gut that there could be someone watching me. This isn't the first time." And given her experience the last time she had a gut feeling like it, she ended up with a new security system after clipping a recovering brainwashed assassin with a bat. It would be better not to ignore it. "I know better now. I need to do this now, before it gets worse."

Yep, he figured this would be her angle, he just wanted to hear it confirmed. "And you want my help."

"I'm enrolling in a course in town," she hastened to explain, "but...if I'm being targeted, it won't be by anyone...average. I would like additional help from someone who has experience with the not normal crowd. Maybe a touch of actual training. I know it's a lot to ask for, given that we hardly know each other and you're just as busy as everyone else on the team, but..."

"You do understand what you're doing, right? You're asking for an ex-operative's help? It won't be easy, in any regard. I won't hold your hand for you," Clint drove the point home. It was true, he had his own set of responsibilities, his own separate motivations. His own scores, and guilt, and doubts to labor over. To assist with another's, he couldn't be the one to haul the load. Looking her dead in the eye, he stared hard, hard enough so that she could only blink and look away from its intensity.

"I don't expect you to," she said in a near whisper, meeting his gaze fully once more. Dipping his chin once, he leaned back in his seat, pondering what she was asking for a moment, juggling another question and inquiring further.

"Why me? Not that I'm not flattered, but I figured Natasha would be your go-to, or maybe Maria, if you were seeking assistance outside of your significant other's."

She paused, bit her lip. All the thoughts in her head circled one another, too many answers to give. Maria was too distant, cold, to ask for assistance, and Natasha, well, frankly Natasha still intimidated her, no matter that she'd known her for longer than she knew Barton. And Steve...she did not want to go over that part of the conversation again. Beyond that, she couldn't give a distinct reason for her choice. "You seem to be the right person to ask. I think you'd...you'd keep me accountable."

Clint blinked. "And the captain wouldn't."

Holly shook her head, partial denial and partial truth. "Oh, he'd make sure I'd do it. It's just that, well, I hadn't taken his advice the first time few times we've talked about this option."

Here Barton cracked a small grin, the glimmer in his eyes growing. "Ah, got hit with the 'I told you so' speech?"

She groaned; at that moment, she regretted bringing someone trained to read people like she read books into it. "Somewhat. But that's not enough of a deterrent to not accept his help. He's...he's too close. Do you understand that at all?"

Had it been ten months ago when she wanted this, when they were simply friends, she would have asked for Steve's help. However, too much of everything had passed between them for it to be a viable option. Steve was her partner, not her leader, and while she trusted him to be honest with her, she did know that he would end up holding back, at least a little. Her fragility or lack of it was not a question; he knew she was capable of taking care of herself. But facing off against one another, even in a training scenario, would not be ideal. In her mind, Holly thought this would be the best course of action. Steve could be involved in other ways; he could observe, she would let him pitch in his two cents when he wanted, but more than that...she wasn't sure. It wasn't a judgment on his trust or faithfulness, that much she could tell him, which went a small way to placate Steve into agreeing with her choice.

Releasing a deep breath, the silence that stretched on was broken as Clint inclined his head.

"Okay. Next time you're at the Tower, tell me about your class and what they've covered by then, I'll help you fill in the blanks with what I know." He tilted his head to the side, considering. "I can teach you some things they definitely won't show you."

Holly snickered, grateful for his acceptance. "Thank you. I'll figure out a way to pay you by then."

Barton shook his head, waving it off. All things considered, he was doing very well by his previous standards. He didn't want her money. That wasn't the point of what he was doing.

"This is in all our best interests," he told her, giving her a smarmy smirk. "Cap will be miserable to work with if the worst should happen and you're not prepared."

Snorting softly, she barely managed to conceal her eyeroll. "How kindhearted of you."

"In the meantime, go to your class and make me proud, grasshopper."

Her jaw quirked, her own eyes shining a little. "But are you Pat Morita, or Jackie Chan?"

Barton mock gasped, shaking his finger at the display. "Shame on your family for mentioning such blasphemy, grasshopper! Morita is the only Miyagi!"

Fear deflected, deferred, she could face the rest of her evening. Really, once Steve came home, she would find her peace, but in the meantime, this would do.

xXxXxXx

Too close. It was cutting too close for his liking. Still, he had been there, had subdued the shadowy attacker without her knowing the truth. Barely, as the fellow had dug in his heels, but he still managed to keep him just beyond the light, out of the way. He had seen the fear in her eyes through the darkness, the panic shoved down as she ventured towards them. It was pure luck that she did not shine the light on his face, did not give him away (though the glint off his arm did not help). She couldn't know, not yet. He wasn't out for recognition.

It was for redemption, payment for his sins committed when he couldn't control himself. Service rendered to make up for the time lost and the years wasted in hell, to aid a friend he had forgotten ever knowing. In his stolen vehicle, he drove into the surrounding country far from the city, the hired attacker to be disposed of without anyone the wiser. The truck bumped along a dirt road, jarring the discreet ball cap that hid his hair. His tracker, his connector to his redemption, was broken, snapped by his own hand not long ago. It was better this way, better to work without the captain or his partner having the ability to find him, should he want it. Right now, he what he wanted was what he knew best: the night, the shadows, the peace to work as he been forced to for many years. Now, however, he was able to put that training to good use. In a manner of speaking.

It took an assassin to deter assassins. And so long as HYDRA insisted on sending assassins out, he would meet them head-on. The Winter Soldier was no more. But the man left standing in his place was still someone to fear. Bucky Barnes had his eye on salvaging what was left of his friendship, his soul. Protecting this woman was a start. And perhaps, it could even be an end one day.

For now, this was what he would do.

A/N: Kind of a slower chapter, not a ton of action, but then again, this story isn't all about the insane action all the time. Build-up, my lovely readers, it is build-up.

Yep, Holly is looking towards getting at least some rudimentary training in. She's not going to turn into an overnight superhero; trust me, that's not going to happen. But I have been remiss in giving her a base of any skill beyond bat-wielding. Thankfully, Clint is on the case. Why? Because...well, he's trained, he's actually kind of approachable, and well, she doesn't have a relationship with him. It would be uncomplicated to learn from him. Just the way the cookie crumbles. And she's not totally relying on him, either, just to make that clear.

Hello, sneaky Bucky. You're always a welcome blip on the radar when you're not in terrifying-assassin mode.

I don't own any references to the MCU, The Karate Kid (both film versions), or any restaurants in downtown D.C. Also, listening to the song Feeling Good was both conducive and counterproductive to my completing this chapter, and I definitely disavow owning it at all. Fun fact there.

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!