After confessing the intended destination of the Avengers' last stand with Ultron, the helicarrier's course was altered and Holly was left stranded. Meeting with Maria, they spoke about the headway made on their major inclusions endeavor. Early prognosis of it was actually very good; it had seemed that many companies, from UNICEF to various rebuilding programs, were interested in abetting the team in the future, provided there would be a need for them to do so. That mainly had happened because Maria had been charming and persuading them for months prior to the Ultron events, but still, it was something they were able to draw on now. Certainly, there was some who had flat-out refused to even consider the notion, but to have the amount of support they were building from the outset bode well for the time being. Jane had called back a few hours previously, having already started preliminary hearings for the colleges, the universities intrigued by the concept, but needing proper paperwork before actually getting involved. As the minutes wore on, the carrier cutting smoothly through the sky, the discussion became a three-way call, video feed opened as they pondered the immediate implications of the team's presence overseas.
"There's no way this is going to be a contained fight," Maria murmured, tapping a finger against the file folders set before her. "The people of Sokovia are going to be affected, one way or another. First priority of the team is going to be evacuation, if I know anything about them."
Holly gave a concurrent nod, lips thinning. "If they get there before Ultron spots them, at least."
Turning physically in her chair to face the digital screen propped up on the table, the older brunette nodded to it, a palm out and gesturing for the speaker on the other end to chime in. "Pepper?"
Pepper Potts, already on edge due to her own significant other being involved in the dealings, was not about to stand by and be an idle observer. Not this time; it was hell to have gone through it when Tony took matters into his own hands during the battle of New York, and the public response afterward. Granted, he had formed the Stark Relief Foundation as a way to help the injured and broken find refuge, but it did not work quite as fast as he would like it. As it was, they were mired down with the business in Johannesburg. Privately, the shrewd redhead had taken the initiative, forming a fast-response disaster group that could drop and fly to places, with proper search and rescue training to boot, at a moment's notice (because God knew that, while she loved Tony, he and the team were a walking disaster unit, and could bring it down upon anyone, anytime). She just lacked the excuse to actually put the team in the field.
Well, seemed like as good a time as any to mobilize, she mused, dipping her chin at the screen.
"My R.E.S.C.U.E. team is on the way out," she said, a finger tracing along the screen, forwarding personnel files and an operational schematic to the women on the other end. Tapping into the tablet on her left, Maria retrieved the provided information, digesting it with gusto. "They can start set-up for the displaced, forward the damage assessment to Stark Relief and onto the other companies who will be involved."
"In the meantime, we have some lifeboats on hand that should do the trick," Hill replied, bright eyes skimming over R.E.S.C.U.E.'s credentials. She shrugged her shoulders at her companions, noting their confused, agape faces. "Just in case evac has to be even quicker than your team can be."
Requesting a further explanation, Maria described the lifeboats as bigger, higher-tech versions of the kind to be found on ships, save that they had similar mechanics to the helicarrier. That meant they were incredibly mobile, able to rise and maneuver hundreds of feet through the air if necessary. Mostly, they were made in case of getting out refugees under heavy fire, bringing them out of harm's way and up into the helicarrier without ever grounding the thing.
The CEO raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that will be necessary?"
"I don't know. But I'll be sending out a command for prep, in any case," the second-in-command retorted, fingers sliding over her tablet's screen and doing just that.
"Will you have enough people for quick evac?" Holly wondered curiously. Her gaze flicked out towards the open space of the bridge, empty save for them and a few stray agents moving from one computer bank to another, low voices echoing in the air.
"We have some," Hill muttered, not able to refute the physical lack of operatives aboard. She blinked, raising her palm to her forehead as if to press down a pain that had cropped up there. Holly wouldn't blame her if she actually did have a headache; she was in deep with some many different tasks and projects, it was a wonder that Maria's head hadn't exploded yet. "Not everybody answered Fury's call, unfortunately. Every person not already assigned a task onboard will have to work search and rescue, if there's a need."
Something in her tone stuck, grabbed Holly's attention. Narrowing her dark eyes, she bluntly asked, "Everyone?"
Unwaveringly, the other woman met her gaze, head inclining. "Yes."
The full implications hit her then, leaving her mute as Maria wrapped up the call with Pepper, promising to provide her with more details as they came. The silence that encased her was deep, her whirl of thoughts pulling her so far away from reality that it took fingers jabbing her shoulder hard and a couple of whistles to draw her out of it. Snapping back into the present, Holly turned her ashen face towards her compatriot, swallowing hard against a dry throat.
"You know, when Fury told me that the team would need people to count on, I didn't expect this," she breathed, struggling to keep it together. It was wrong, she thought, to draft her into the cause. Not because she didn't think she could do anything, but because she was an inadequate choice. Fury had worked with the best of the best, including the best evacuation teams. What good would she be to any of them if she was out there? Amidst her surge of panic, she did not notice Maria's expression soften, or her palm applying gentle pressure to her shoulder.
She did, however, listen when the other woman spoke again.
"Hey, come on now. You can do more than you give yourself credit for. It's not like we're asking you to be in the front lines; that would really be irresponsible," she pointed out, all of what she said valid to her mind. She'd worked with Holly for a few days, had kept an eye on her per Fury's request months ago. It was true; she was no field agent and never would be, truly. Frankly, the idea of Holly Martin going into training at this stage of her life was unnerving to her, to say the least. But she knew when somebody was selling themselves short, and it was something Holly was doing then. It was something she did often, and she honestly did not like that. Tapping her arm, she continued, "But you said you wanted to help, to do what you could. This, you can probably do. Maybe."
A weak snicker came out of her companion, but at least it was better than cold disbelief. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Leaving it at that, the two women went back to their separate labors for several minutes longer, until Hill blew out a sharp breath and motioned for Holly's attention.
"It's getting really late. This stuff will keep; we're at least six hours out, and we'll be two hours behind them as it is," she stated carefully, gathering her folders and setting her tablet atop them, bundling them under her arm. "Gotta get some rest while we can."
A dismissal, plain and simple. Holly knew that much, and with a sigh she shuffled her laptop back into her bag, shouldering it and cupping the air with her free hand.
"Okay...and where can I do that, exactly?" she asked, blinking tiredly. In short order, Maria marched her through the halls, to a sort of tram built along the upper floors designed to take those on board quickly to the living quarters in the rear of the carrier. They stopped upon the first floor, a stretch of rooms bordering either side of the hallway. Nameplates were screwed into some doors, others were unmarked, but Hill led her without hesitance to the third door on the left, "S. Rogers" stamped in the metal and facing out like it had three years ago when it had first been made. Again, the utter confidence exhibited by Director Fury, even down to the last detail, surprised Holly. Confidence and arrogance. To it, though, she merely raised her eyebrows before watching her compatriot type in a six-digit code at the access panel (741918, which she thought was highly unoriginal once the number registered in her mind) and let the door slide open with a whisper. The main area was small, a bed wedged into one corner with a small bench at the foot, a chest of drawers along the wall, and a single chair off to the side. Spartan, but serviceable; it was better than sleeping on the floor, or at the table in the control room. Noting what appeared to be a door to a private lavatory to the right, she breathed her thanks as Maria left her to it, the other woman's jaw clenching tight on a yawn of her own before departing. The tight, little room would definitely serve, though she had no idea how good of a sleep she would get, hurdling headlong into danger as she was.
'Hope Sam and Bucky are doing alright,' she thought, biting her lip and half turning towards the door again. 'I should go find them…but…'
She had no earthly clue where on the vessel either man was, or even if they were awake any longer. Just as Bucky had taken responsibility for her safety, she felt a form of it for him, now that she'd dragged him into the mire. Trouble was, she wasn't certain he would want to see her, anyway. Maybe he was one of those people who needed to be alone before a major occurrence went down. Again, it wasn't like she knew him very well. And even if she did, like she knew Sam, it would be incredibly hard to locate them, given that she had not paid attention to her surroundings upon coming aboard, save to gawk at the advanced computer banks on the bridge and the sheer size of the carrier in general. It would be better to stay put, she figured, pulling Clint's earpiece out of her ear and tucking it into her jeans pocket (no way was she going to rest with that in). She'd get some sleep, and then make an ass out of herself looking for them.
Holly dropped the bag from her shoulder onto the bench, crawling onto the uncomfortable bed that she knew would be too narrow for Steve, let alone for both of them to share, when he came back.
'If he comes back,' the darkness at the back of her mind mused darkly. 'If we survive this, both of us. If neither of us ends up dead.'
She shut her eyes fiercely, a creeping tear running across her face and over her nose as she curled in on herself, arms wrapping around her waist as a poor substitute for his embrace. It felt like years since she'd had any real time with him, and not the few days that it actually was. Not now, not now, she chastised herself as she rolled to face the wall, her exhausted mind and body shutting down for sleep. The memory of the last kiss shared between them, hard and passionate, surfaced just before she was drawn into dreams, none of which she could remember when she woke again.
xXxXxXx
Morning had come, another day, but no real sunlight could reach her down in her solitude. In the shadows, she waited. The light of the weak lamp that had thrust through the bars at her hours ago illuminated her face, her cell, but not much else. The erstwhile factory, the experimental rooms that had smelted what seemed to be hundreds of robots, as well as a long metal shell, were quiet. Ultron, after adapting to his new body and smelting his sentries to do the same, had long since disappeared. Evidently her signal, off the grid and too weak for him to trace despite the fact that it had happened no less than five feet away from him, had been received. Natasha, knowing the odds were stacking against her teammates, still had smirked when she heard the rumbled cry to move out. She knew they were coming.
Maybe they'd be able to take down the bastard before things got out of hand. Personal experience told her how foolish and unlikely that scenario would be, but she forced herself to look on the brighter side. What bothered her most was the helpless situation Ultron had put her in. Granted, she was able to call out, but she was no more in a position to escape than she had been hours ago, and it grated on her. It infuriated her, being reduced to watching and waiting, to see if someone, anyone came looking for her. She wouldn't do it, personally; she'd want to finish the job before she attended to the casualties. A part of her felt the crawl of worthlessness dragging up her spine, her mind viciously beating it back down. She was not worthless, she was not helpless, and she was just...stalled. Yes, stalled, she asserted to herself, her bright eyes darting over the empty space beyond the bars. As if she were a damsel locked up in a medieval dungeon.
Дерьмо, she hated thinking of herself that way. It was so against everything that she was, that she was trained to be, that it made her sick to even contemplate it. Well, there was not much she could do for it; she had to conserve whatever weapons Ultron had not deprived her of for when she did finally escape, and she could not risk exposure. Now, though, that she was alone, she could consider her options.
With no key and the lock welded shut, she didn't have many. Sitting back down, she drummed her fingers over her knees, calming herself and leveling out her breathing, like Bruce did during his morning meditations. In and out, in and out...clearing the mind...in and out...
A shuffle of dirt and stone, thudding, and then—
"Natasha!" a faint cry reached her ears, the familiar voice causing her to jump to her feet and peer out across the open space.
"Bruce," she replied tentatively, wary of it being some sort of trick to get her hopes up. However, it turned out to be nothing of the sort, and her heart swelled at the sight of the scientist as he rounded the corner. His curly hair was dusted with dirt, his hooded sweatshirt oversized and his boots borrowed, but he appeared to be in one piece. The relief at seeing him flooded through her, even as she jokingly asked if he managed to find a key to free her. The seriousness of his face caught her as he raised some sort of gun—a HYDRA piece left behind from their raid all those days ago—and fired it at the lock of her cage. Helping him shift the bar until she could squeeze out, she brushed herself off, determined not to look worse for the wear despite being captured and imprisoned for over twelve hours. The rest of the team was above, first priority being to get the people of Novi Grad out. Asking about her part in the operations, Bruce merely shook his head at her questions.
"We're getting out of here. Away from the fight," he confessed, dropping the weapon to the ground and coming closer.
That pulled her up short, made her brow furrow in confusion. "But, the mission...it's not done."
The rueful look he shot her went straight to her heart, the honesty reverberating into her. "There's too much at stake, having the Other Guy running around. We've...we've both done our share, anyway."
Unbeknownst even to her, the ghost of a smile crept over her lips, her bright eyes reflecting her cautious emotions in the low light.
"We have to find our own way, now?" she queried, thinking back on their time in the farmhouse, back when she'd first broached the idea of them finding a place in the world for themselves, just the two of them. No team, no missions, just Bruce and Natasha. Was this their chance? Was he ready to give it a chance? Bruce's dark eyes flashed, the memory streaking across his irises as she pressed closer to him.
He did not answer her, just took her hand in his grip, leading the way back out of the tunnels he'd found to get to her. He couldn't answer her, because it wasn't as simple as all that. The dream, the one they'd stumbled upon at the farmhouse, was just that: a fantasy. For hours, he'd stewed over it, over indulging in it and doing just as she'd suggested. They could run, drop off the grid, find some place to be themselves, with each other. But...
But, deep down, he knew it was not possible. It could never be, and he would not condemn her to a life on the run just because she had feelings for him. Nor could he do it simply because he had feelings for her, too. That's all they were, feelings. Feelings did not equate love, did not equal happiness, and for something that was not tried and true, one should not give up their lives for such things. In his heart, he understood that much. Attraction was one thing, devotion another. And he knew for a fact that she was not devoted to him. He would not let her become so; it would be the loss of her, in one way or another. And he would tell her the truth, after...after.
First though, he needed to get her out of there. Because Bruce did have feelings for her, and so he would not rest until she was far away from the looming destruction on the horizon.
Far beyond the tunnels, out in the open, crisp morning air, another soul was watching for the arrival of destruction. The team, according to the plan set down by Rogers, had been hard at work for over an hour guiding the civilians of Novi Grad out of their homes, evacuation routes heavily clogged as they attempted to get to safety, wherever that was. On the northern points, closest to the old stronghold, were Hawkeye and the Maximoff girl, pushing the people there to go south, to stay out of the mountains and head for the bridges over the river. The male twin, moving like quicksilver, was everywhere at once, spurring people onward and guiding people across. The cap had taken residence at the bridges themselves, darting from one to the next, speaking with police officers as best he could to better organize and direct traffic. And for his part, Tony was circling the city, an eye out for the automaton that had caused the morning chaos, the dawn of fear. Their android, dubbed the Vision for simplicity's sake, was higher up, poised and waiting for the right time to intercede. A small verbal command issued forth allowed his boosters to go to half power as he wound around the buildings, his repulsors saving as much energy as possible for the coming confrontation.
A chime echoed over his earpiece, his heads-up display flashing red.
"What's up, JJ?" Tony asked, calling to the new AI he'd implanted into his operational systems. Long ago, he'd made back-ups of different ones in the off-chance that JARVIS would become deactivated, or too buggy to be allowed to have digital control over his life and company. He'd considered the ones he'd had one hand, a JOCASTA, the one called FRIDAY, but feeling pulled by the nostalgia that he refused to think had any sway over him, he settled on the one simply titled, "JJ." The vocal patterns were similar to JARVIS, but the accent was a little blunter, and the algorithms of its processes matched that bluntness. Its voice soothed something in him that ached for the loss and removal of what he considered to be one of his oldest friends, but the new guy wasn't so bad.
"Sensors have picked up on a digital and mechanical presence surfacing in the church," JJ intoned. "I anticipate it's Ultron, and most likely it's an ambush."
Tony snorted to himself. "Figures. Well, I can't just fly around and leave him hanging, can I?"
"Very hospitable of you to approach him, sir," JJ remarked, the dryness in his tone rivaling his predecessor's. It had Tony reeling for a second or two. "Might I suggest a psychological reevaluation in the near future?"
The billionaire focused beyond the display, out the viewfinder as he angled the suit to head for the church at the center of town.
"If the world doesn't end, pencil me in for next Tuesday, JJ."
If there was any sort of function that allowed his AI to laugh, he reckoned JJ would have done so. "Fair enough."
Touching down upon the outer steps, Tony warily clomped into the sacred space, the domed roof cracked and letting in light as the morning sun began to rise and shine. The carved throne at the center of the room was empty, and so he glanced around, trying to spot the automaton in the darkness.
"You did come. I knew you would," a low, baritone hiss came from the shadows, crawling over his skin as he heard it. Pivoting on his heel, Stark squared his shoulders, not prepared to give the monstrosity he'd created any quarter.
"Did you honestly expect anything different?" he wondered sarcastically, knowing full well that he was digitally summoned for the meeting and not for the banter. Whirs and clanks from behind drew his attention, and when he turned to face it, he was forced to look up. Whatever the original purpose of the stolen vibranium, Ultron had made good use of it for himself. Glowing red eyes beamed from the sockets, the favored horns lining the jaw area gleaming. Over eight feet tall, built broadly, the vibrations of the metal tread against the stone floor brought the captain's shield to mind as he approached. Wisecracks aside (and he had a few good ones, which appeared to have been utterly wasted as the automaton didn't even bother with a comeback), a nervous lurch dropped his stomach as the massive figure approached the throne. All at once, the wooden seat exploded, splinters rocketing away as a spire shot up. As it locked itself into place, JJ immediately went about a scan. The functionality of the thing was woefully unclear, but he would continue running options in regards to the reformed vibranium.
Ultron, pulling himself to his full height, allowed himself a forced, tight smile. "The time of the flesh is over. And I'm so pleased to see you bear witness to it, Tony."
The honking horns, the man-made disruption of the day was broken, horrified screams and shrieks intermingling in the air. Distant clanks of metal on rock, of far-away repulsors and firepower cracked across the sky. The abject terror that had come to the land was rising, and Tony had no choice but to answer the fearful call. Blasting back into the sky, he watched as hundreds of Ultron's sentries broke through the streets, blasting through buildings and scaling the rocks from the river to go after the trapped people. Zooming past the captain, who had severed the arm of one sentry with his shield, he fired his repulsors at an outcropping just beyond, blasting and breaking the metal soldiers there. A streak of violet and gold crossed overhead, heading directly for the church. The Vision was brought down, ready to face the creature that had been responsible for his initial construction, but could end up being his destruction.
"JJ, tap into the Vision's drives, and monitor his progress with Ultron," he commanded quickly, violently spinning midair to shake off a sentry that had clasped him by the legs. As it detached, he shot a short blast at its head, knocking it out of the way for the time being. The minutes ticked by, with more sentries taking the place of their fallen comrades, and finally JJ had some decent news to report. The Vision had gotten into Ultron's "head", shutting down his access to the Internet and other digital communicative formats. He was, slowly but surely, prizing away his control, keeping him locked to the grid he was currently attached to. There would be no chance for him to make a high-speed getaway. Tony felt his lips stretch into an honest-to-God grin at the resounding relief. It spread over him, through him, encouraging him to fly faster and attack with vigor.
And then, it happened. The earth began to crack and crumble, the streets of Novi Grad almost pulsating as cobblestones separated. The ground was moving, as though an earthquake had spontaneously triggered the tremors. Flying out, he watched as the bridges to freedom snapped in half, the showers of dirt raining down onto the people below as the center of the city began to lift away. Dread flooded through him, his throat drying as he stared on.
"Oh God...JJ?" he asked, his voice a thin thread. To his ears, even the AI sounded frightened at the turns of events.
"...Sokovia is ascending, Mister Stark."
xXxXxXx
A muted alarm pierced through the haze of sleep, forcing Holly to rise up off the bunk she occupied. Swinging her legs over the side, she glanced at the digital clock set up beside the bed in the quarters; she'd gotten in five solid hours. It would have to do, given that she could not afford to give anymore. She might sleep through the end of the world…couldn't have that, could she?
Getting to her feet, she padded across the room, the appearance of a box jutting out from the far wall pulling her up short. It appeared to be a delivery box of sorts, opened from outside the quarters to deposit whatever was needed to be left for the occupant to pick up later. Essentially, it was a popped-out chute, a big mail drop. Inquisitive, she opened the top, eyes widening at the contents. A food packet had been dropped, beneath it a bundle of clothes. A note from Maria was attached, telling her to eat and gear up as quickly as possible. Taking the command, she went about to do just that.
Holly had finished with what was possibly the coldest and quickest shower of her life, changing in rapid succession and binding her hair back when a text message cropped up on her phone. Knowing full well that she was in an international data zone by that point, she could not honestly bring herself to care. It was Sam, asking her for her location and to get back to him as swiftly as she could. It was identical to one he'd sent a few hours previously, but she had been dead to the world and unable to answer. Quickly, her fingers worked over the onscreen keyboard, informing him that she was in the captain's quarters and could stop by any time.
Fingers trembling as she clipped her belt into place, she heard several light thumps against the automatic door several minutes later. Swallowing hard, she attempted to fix her face and don a placid expression when she pushed the button to the left, opening the door. Sam was there, decked out in his full Falcon regalia: wing pack strapped tightly down, dark body armor and boots laced over his feet, some hand guns and knives attached to holsters at his waist. He was a slate and black menace, ready for attack. His goggles had been pushed up onto his forehead, and he gave her a tight grin as he stepped into the room. A cursory glance told him that even valuable assets like Rogers did not major any better rooming conditions than they had; if anything, Wilson's quarters had only been about half a foot smaller. Shuffling to one side, he let his companion file in after him. Holly's eyes were drawn to the other arrival, widening as she stared and tilted her head.
"What?" Bucky asked, uncomfortable with the look she was giving him. It was…shocked interest, if he had to guess, and he wasn't sure he liked it all that much.
Holly shook her head automatically, flicking her gaze up to his hairline and lifting a corner of her mouth. "...Nice haircut."
Bucky's hand, the human one, slid into the cropped locks, tousling it a bit as he went. It was shorter than it had been over the past year, the sides buzzed down and the top swept to one side. The stray strands brushed above his eyebrows before he pressed them away, off his forehead. The similarity to his wartime photos was striking, or so he had been told, though obviously this was hardly a military cut. Either way, it had been done, cropped by an agent who had had some experience and did as Fury requested when he asked for it.
"Thanks," he murmured, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. The ice that normally resided in his blue eyes had receded, the barest glimmer of a smirk crossing his lips. "Whatever we're riding into, I don't need hair blocking my vision."
Glancing at the rest of his array—black Kevlar jacket and vest, the arm cut away to allow his cybernetic one full mobility, black pants harnessed with handguns and knives galore—she did not deign to point out that she thought the length of his hair would not matter in the slightest. He'd still probably be able to cut down whatever came into his path half blind, and do so efficiently. What appeared to be a high-powered rifle was slung across his back as well; the operatives in charge of weapons distribution had to have heard about his propensity for sharpshooting. Steve himself had boasted about what a crack shot Bucky had been in the day, and even when he was outright attacking them as the Winter Soldier, the skill had not dissipated. Dully, she nodded, crossing her arms and leaning against the far wall of the cramped quarters. Staring at the toe of her boot, she did not see Sam's eyes sweeping over her as well, taking stock of her new attire.
"Well, that's different," he remarked, the straps of his pack shifting as he gestured towards her. Looking down, she merely shrugged at the navy-colored clothes. The belt pack was tight around her waist, almost too small; while the spare boots she was given were a size too big. It was all found on short notice, the uniform look of SHIELD not looking well on her, in her opinion.
"Not sure if that was a compliment or an insult, but I'll take it, either way," she muttered, a touch of self-deprecation in her tone. She looked like a lackey, a SHIELD lackey, and she didn't like it. The only good parts about it were the gloves and the specialized weapon that Maria had passed on to her.
The new tool of the trade clipped to her belt seemed inconspicuous, until she pressed the button on the knob. It extended and interlocked, becoming very much like the baseball bat that she favored for a defensive weapon. Clicking a different button on the handle, bright lines shot up the barrel, the cap at the end becoming electrified. It was something the boys in the lab had been working on for awhile, and Maria had figured she take it for the first test run. As she'd gave it a few practice swings in private, Holly wondered if she would be able to smuggle it off-board when the time came. She might be able to get rid of the taser if she could keep it; it performed double duty, and she rather enjoyed that.
Sam and Bucky exchanged a glance as she tapped a finger along the belt.
"You're not gonna..." Wilson trailed off, gesturing superfluously with his free hand. Coming aboard the helicarrier was one thing, but to be outfitted as she was then, with some gear strapped to her to boot, he was beginning to draw an unpleasant conclusion as to what she'd be doing.
Holly tipped her head towards the bench behind them; the reflective orange vest seated there the last piece of the ensemble. "Strictly evac, and search and rescue. But if things get dicey, then..."
Her palm lay over the collapsible bat, her shoulder lifting.
"It's not a good idea," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.
A snort ripped out of her then, her eyes rolling. "If they weren't so short-staffed around here, there would probably be no way they'd let me go."
Sam exhaled sharply, and finally aired the truth that they were all avoiding. "Steve's gonna freak."
Holly had nothing to say to that; she knew exactly how much Steve would hate the idea of her being anywhere near harm. Keeping her safe was at the top of his list, and she was circumventing it willingly. Granted, only because Fury and Hill had requested more aid, but she still was going to put herself out there.
"...Yep," she finally concurred, the pale cast to her face tinging slightly. Her fingers flew up to tighten her short pony tail, just so she could keep them occupied as her mind raced and heart thumped. "I'm banking on him being too occupied with fighting to notice the incredibly stupid stuff I'll be doing."
Bucky's eyebrows twitched together, a frown forming on his lips, and the deadpan look Sam sported spoke volumes. "Because, you know, he isn't a details guy at all."
"Thanks for maintaining the illusion," she snarked back at him. Her stomach churned harder, and a harsh flush crawled up her neck as sweat popped up on her brow. A fist clenched over her belly and she moaned, "Oh, God...not again..."
James darted a worried glance over her. "Something wrong?"
"Just...oh." She cut herself off, a hand flying over her mouth and her feet propelling her forward on their own accord. The short dash to the compact lavatory seemed to be miles long, but soon enough she'd wrenched the door open, fell to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl before her. It was the second it had happened, and she was no more happier about than the first time. As she did so, she could not will herself to care that Sam and James stood just in the other room, the heaving rocking her body and the bile burning her throat as it came up. Consequently, she was a little stunned to register the gentle palm settling between her shoulder blades, a soothing pressure as she finished puking. Sniffing hard and swiping away the water in her eyes, she peered behind her, Sam's liquid brown gaze ringed with sympathy.
"Sorry," she apologized, getting back to her feet after she felt confident enough that she could contain herself. Meandering over to the sink, she rinsed out her mouth as Sam just shook his head.
"It happens." Off the skeptical look she shot him, he raised a hand up, genuine feeling in his eyes. "No, really. You should've seen me on some of the nights during my tours."
Her humorless chuckle grated even on her ears. "You had training to face this kind of stuff."
Valid point, he could concede that much, but that wasn't the whole truth of the matter.
"Training doesn't get rid of fear," he iterated quietly, leaning against the opened door, his focus drawn to something no one else could see. "It just enables you to face it a different way than you normally would."
Taking out her toothbrush again, she scrubbed hard at her teeth and tongue as she let his words sink in. Soon enough, she spit out the paste, rinsing her mouth out once more. Turning the faucet to cold, she splashed some water on her face, gripping the bowl of the sink tightly. Darting her gaze to the small mirror, she looked her friend fully in the eye, holding nothing back.
"Are you scared, Sam?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Because she was afraid. Truth be told, she was damn near terrified, legitimately so. Waiting for his answer, she saw the resoluteness enter his expression, the lines of his face hardening.
"Yes," he told her honestly. "Every single person on this boat is. Some more than others."
From further back in the room, the figure in black shuffled forward, a nod of commiseration making his chin dip. Eyebrows flying up, she pivoted to really look at the two men.
"Right," Bucky chimed in then, concentrating hard on the toe of his boot, thumbs hooking into his belt. Whether or not they acknowledged it was their choice, but the fear was there. Fears for so many things—for what could or couldn't be, what may or may not happen, if they would live or if they would die—lived beneath the surface for everyone there, not just her. She would not be alone; not even James could claim to be free of it. Carefully, gently Holly reached out and threw an arm around Sam's shoulders, hugging him for a moment before moving on to Bucky. Knowing he would be incredibly skittish about that sort of thing, she settled for reaching out, squeezing his human shoulder gently and inclining her head toward him. For better or worse, at least they were around. No matter the fear, she knew she wasn't alone in it.
Fetching her orange vest, she slid it on over her uniform and was just fishing Clint's borrowed com-link out of her abandoned jeans when she noticed it blinking. The blue light must have meant something, and as she flashed a questioning look back at her companions, she tucked it back into her ear. Tapping into the open channel (Maria had handed hers over to the tech guys, just to make all of Stark's pieces compatible with theirs and connect them easily) Fury's stern voice came over the line.
"Wilson, Barnes, Martin...report to the bridge, now," he commanded harshly. The trio flicked glances at one another before booking it out of the quarters and down the hall to the tram. The ride up to the bridge was anxiety-ridden, heavy with the cloud of the unknown hanging about them. The other operatives were already bustling about, some shouting down the halls in specific codes that Holly had no understanding of. Bursting out onto the bridge, she wasn't surprised to find Rhodey there, his grim façade standing out and his suit on stand-by. He was with Fury and Maria, staring down at a digital console at the center of the bridge. Taking point, Sam led the way over to them, Holly in the middle and Bucky bringing up the rear.
"What's going on?" he asked, getting right to the point.
The director gave a sharp huff, gesturing to the screen before him. "Turns out simple evac will no longer be simple."
It was the broadcast of a news feed, foreign in language, but the picture onscreen said more than words ever could. The city of Novi Grad, Sokovia had split at the very seams, buildings tumbling and bridges snapping as the tremors of the ground shook the camera. Screams of shock and horror were picked up by the microphone, loud and unyielding as it started to, to…
Holly's jaw dropped, a numbness invading her system as she stared. "Is...is that..."
Maria's jaw clenched harder, and Rhodey merely canted his head in incredulity. The recruited agents at the computer banks had accessed the feed as well, stunned silence muting them as they watched the city, its people, and somewhere in all of it the Avengers rose up into the sky.
"The city is flying," Fury murmured darkly, tapping at his set-up and sending out an alert. "Plans have changed."
A/N: The Battle of Sokovia has started…and hoo boy, is it gonna be fun…fun for me, anyway.
Yep, Holly's going to help get people on the lifeboats…and she is terrified about it. But, hey, at least she's got people to rely on despite being scared to the point of vomiting. And yes, I changed FRIDAY to JJ. The new AI Tony put into his system in the movie was just…too bland for my tastes. I couldn't wrap my head around the actress' voice, and so, well, I changed it. I think Tony responds better to caustic wit and snark, and thus JJ will at least have some of that. Guess who I have in mind as the voice of JJ. Hint: he was often mistaken as the voice of JARVIS, until people realized it was Paul Bettany playing him. Another hint: he is the Watson to RDJ's Holmes.
…Jude Law. JJ is Jude Law, in my mind.
The one word that Natasha thinks in Russian translates to "shit." I'd be cursing up a storm mentally, if I'd gotten captured by Ultron. Also, a nod to Pepper Pots and R.E.S.C.U.E. (her alter ego in the comics).
I don't own anything from the MCU, nor do I own any mentioned pop culture references.
One last thing: I posted another fun, sexy one-shot over on my AO3, entitled On Leave. Feel free to check it out; I have the same username there as I do here.
Anyway, thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!
EDIT: I have posted my long, ranty reasoning behind why I ultimately chose to deviate from canon, and not follow the Civil War storyline for the future, in an entry of my Livejournal. It is under the name phantomproducer, and is the entry entitled, "Part Five: In Which I Provide An Explanation for My Actions." If you would like to read that and understand why I chose to go the way I have, feel free to check it out. I did originally have an explanation posted here, but I have moved it there because I did not think it fair to have it upping my word count and making it seem like I had more story in this chapter than I had. Please, take a read, if you would like.