The following day dawned, though one could not make the argument that it was any brighter than it had been the few days previous. However, it did dawn a shade or two safer, and for that Steve Rogers was pleased. Well, he was more pleased to wake up in a bed, the still-snoozing form of his fiancee draped across him (the lack of space was good for something, at least; it gave them the excuse to be closer to one another) and the combined warmth of their bodies pushing out the cold that had invaded in their time apart. Nudging Holly awake was not easy, and she protested against getting up by snuggling against his chest, her bare leg slipping between his. Kisses upon his skin made him groan, turn her underneath him, reciprocate in kind—though not to the full extent that they both would have liked. Still, he and she made due. Distracted for a time, they eventually rose, switching off turns in the freezing shower to prepare for the meeting they and the team were all asked to attend. Required, really, but Fury had a way of dressing up the words to make it sound like he was asking, at least.
As he went to brush his teeth and shave, Steve caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror, the discoloration at the side of his neck grabbing his attention. The bright purple and red of first marking had faded a bit, but it was still highly noticeable. Snickering quietly, he turned around, sticking his head out the bathroom door and clearing his throat. Holly, who had been pulling out her papers and piling them with her laptop, looked up and inclined her eyebrows in question. Wordlessly, he pointed at the splotch on his skin, his own brow raised and smirk stretching his lips. Barking out a laugh, she responded by pulling at the neck of her sweater, revealing the one he'd left along her collarbone and showing him that he was just as guilty as her. The light dancing across her irises erased any possible irritation he might have felt at showing up to debriefing with a visible hickey, and he went back to getting ready again.
When they finally arrived in the small office designated for the meeting, a few of the others nodded greetings or said tired hellos. Stark, for his part, looked as though he were ready to nod off, a hand propped under his chin as he sat at the far end of the table that dominated the space. Cups of coffee ringed around him, the carafe in the room joined by a second as Maria deposited it on the far counter. The billionaire was in low-voiced conference with Rhodey, the smattering of their discussion seeming to be the repairs that Tony would ultimately have to undertake for both suits. The Vision was absent, as well as the twins, with Pietro still laid up in the infirmary for the time being and the other two making rounds with the agents in the hold. Across the room, Bucky stood stiffly, his arm under dubious inspection by the god of thunder, a grimace on his lips as Thor examined it. The jump of muted embarrassment and anger in his face almost made Steve intervene, but the ex-assassin shook his head in a quick denial; he could handle it, and besides, Thor was not asking questions, just looking. Two spaces were left open between Clint and Sam at the table, and so Steve, with his palm pressing into Holly's back (having never dropped contact on their way there), guided them over to the chairs. As Holly dropped her things onto the tabletop, she slung an arm around Clint's shoulders, relieved to see her erstwhile instructor alive and well. As the captain went to the coffee carafe, Hill was depositing packets of papers around to the others, gesturing for Holly to get her things set up as quickly as could be. He returned with two foam cups of straight black caffeine, shrugging when his fiancee winced at the sight. Function over form, he'd reasoned to himself, and the undiluted coffee would serve its function in waking her up fully, at least.
"Sleep well, Cap?" Sam asked politely after a few moments, his face a mask of calm and placidity. However, it was belied by the mischievous glint in his eye, his gaze flicking downward for a second or two. Glancing over at him, the captain sniffed, and Wilson merely shrugged a shoulder. Even if he weren't sporting the mark on his neck, he would've had an idea of how his leader's night had gone, anyway. Though slightly fatigued, the couple had looked far too satisfied for a night spent on the upgraded cots they all were forced to have.
Adopting the same air of nonchalance, Steve nodded, turning over one of the papers in the stack before him. "Yes, thanks for asking."
Clint choked down a laugh, dropping the leg he'd crooked over the arm of the chair to the floor. He witnessed the spring of pink in Holly's cheeks at Sam's implications, and he couldn't resist piling on.
He leaned sideways towards her, muttering in a mock whisper, "You know, one could make the argument that you defaced government property."
The younger woman rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth quirking up as she fired up her laptop. "Oh, that joke never gets old."
"Ah, repeat offender, are we?"
Holly shrugged, the smirk stretching as she tapped at the keyboard. "If I have to go to jail for that, then so be it."
A hand curled around her thigh then, squeezing gently, and she looked away from her computer screen in time to catch the grin on Steve's lips as he perused his papers. His thumb began to brush back and forth along the material of her pants, though his focus remained elsewhere. Sighing softly, Holly patted his hand once before returning to typing. She could feel the blood in her face heat up, and she was never more glad for the fact the tabletop in that office was, for once, opaque wood.
A snort echoed across the room, the shuffle and thump of another person taking a seat following after. "So juvenile."
The sharp tone in the feminine voice pulled the captain's attention up from his dossier. Holly, hearing the snap in the words, seemed to shrink slightly in her seat, and she merely set her jaw and stared at the screen in front of her. Furrowing his brow, he dipped a chin in the new arrival's direction.
"And good morning to you, too, Natasha."
Tony perked up then, his dark eyes roaming over the ex-agent and noting the open seat beside her. Sitting up straighter, he asked suddenly, "Where's Banner?"
An uncomfortable silence settled around them for a moment or two, with Natasha languidly turning the pages in her packet and saying nothing. Clearing her throat, Maria decided to speak up. "Gone. On an indefinite leave of absence."
The announcement was met with a level of charged quiet. Some, such as Sam and Rhodey, sported looks of mild confusion, while others like Stark had an expression of shock and hurt on their faces. Shooting a glimpse at Natasha, Steve could see her face was utterly blank. But it wasn't her expression he was looking it; rather, he watched the storm in her eyes, the tempest that was held at bay due to years of denial and control. The pain she was taking so much trouble to hide irked him, made him feel affronted on her behalf. He cared for both of them, of course, but he knew Nat better, knew that she was going to withdraw inward once more, walls up and outer shell defending the one that was torn down inside. Behind her, Bucky shifted against the wall, his blue eyes focusing on the toe his boot and his thumbs hooking into the pockets of his pants.
Finding his tongue first, the captain wondered, "Where to?"
"He didn't say," Hill returned carefully, a swift glance cutting towards Romanoff and then away again. "For all we know, he could be headed to Fiji."
"Watch out for a postcard," the redhead intoned woodenly, the finality in her voice shutting down the topic. A look of sympathy was shot over the edge of Holly's computer screen, but it went unnoticed, and wisely she said no more. A heavy tramp of boots in the hall preempted further conversation, with Nick Fury ducking inside, taking a seat at the head of the table. Straightening his black jacket around his frame, he glanced around the room and dipped his chin in greeting, meeting the captain's steady blue gaze for a second or two.
"Alright, people," he crowed, leaning back in his seat, assuming command of the room as if he were born to do so. "I've had my first cup of coffee, we're still in the air, and nothing's blown up yet; let's call it good and move on from there."
Taking the cue (before anyone could do more than stare at him and his assumptions), Maria Hill asked for the team to collectively report on the events of the battle in full, noting them down with a speech-to-text function activated on her tablet. The report would be filed away for the time being, but to have an official record of events was needed for both the archives and for future inquiries. It was succinct and to the point, both sides from the Avengers and the helicarrier meeting for a comprehensive report. An official release was being prepared for the public. Any and all implications regarding the Avengers' involvement would be restricted to them answering a global threat brought on by HYDRA. It was a cover, as the nuances of what had happened could have terrible implications for Stark and Banner in particular, but it was a cover that would be accepted. One could make the case that it truly was a HYDRA threat that had ultimately pushed Ultron into being; they were researching failed attempts at and technologies to create him after all. The true story was known by a select few higher-ups, and would remain with them. For the time being.
When the subject of the continuing efforts being made for the Sokovians was addressed, Hill nodded to Holly, who had her laptop hooked up to a projector. Between the two of them, they explained how, from that moment forward, the team was to be regarded as something like a nonprofit organization, working in conjunction with like-minded companies to better aid any and all future refugees and displaced peoples who had suffered due to collateral damage. Several major companies had already agreed, connecting with Pepper Potts and them to begin bringing in crews and workers to start rebuilding. With them actively participating and giving back, public opinion was markedly improving, and so it was implied that they would have to continue doing so in the future. Though they had never lost the good opinion of the people of the world, this went a long way to keep conditions better than they were before. Holly pointed out, due to her own efforts, that several colleges were coming forth, willing to work in tandem for the promise of notoriety and giving students real world experience in the daily operations at the base, should they be willing to accept the terms. Jane Foster had sent her an email, telling her that Culver and the University of London were well on their way to total agreement, while she herself had reached out to her own alma mater. More would come when such plans were solidified, but they all showed promise.
Many showed great faith in the cause of the Avengers, and many were willing to stand by them, and by others in need due to their actions, so long as they continued their recent efforts to reach out.
Most of the team took the new developments in stride, but secretly they were in awe of what had been done right under their noses. The plans laid down would not only protect and help the people, it would help and protect them. Seeing the underlying layer of truth, Steve turned his head to his girl, stunned by her attempts on their behalf, on his behalf. There was a sacrifice he had not expected her to make, nor would he have demanded it of her. But there she was, pointing out the acceptance of UNICEF and others waiting to spring into action, deferring to Hill when she had to, but still standing firm. A great swell of feeling rose in his heart for what she'd done, for what she was willing to do.
It would take more than several companies backing them up, however, to reaffirm their place in the world, and keep them safe. Particularly after the disastrous turn of events surrounding Ultron and Sokovia, they would need something more. Rhodey pointed out as much, and Fury had concurred. Which was why, he explained, that they had finally achieved endorsement at one of the highest possible levels. A proposal was put forth on their behalf, already put before the major nations, and sponsored by someone who very much stood by them. With that, Fury turned off the projector, tapping at a keypad of his own to another channel. An older woman, her silvered blonde hair combed neatly to her shoulders, swam into view, hands folded atop her own desk, her tired gray eyes taking in the sight of them all. Her mouth curled up into a facsimile of a smile, noting how a few of them took in sharp breaths of recognition.
"The Avengers' U.N. representative, Pamela Hawley," he provided the introduction, smirking at the former World Security Councilwoman. After the demise of SHIELD, and her fellow councilors, she'd been biding her time, an unobtrusive presence in the field of world politics. Still, it would not do for such a woman to be kept in the background for too long, and Nick had known that. She'd not always agreed with his choices, or with the team's actions, but she had come to recognize their legitimacy and the need for their presence in the world, and wanted to represent their interests. Natasha's spine stiffened as she looked upon the screen, darting a glance to Rogers before tipping her head in greeting.
"Ma'am," Steve murmured aloud, the rest of the team's hellos echoing after.
"Captain, Agent Romanoff, everyone," she returned, tipping her chin up. Shifting the ream of papers at her fingertips, she began to examine the listed bullet points on the sheet. Much of it went against the norm; much of everything the Avengers was against the norm, as far as the rest of the world was concerned. Policies and rules were altered daily, and such was the same with them.
"The proposal put forth by Director Fury and Ms. Hill on your behalf has largely been accepted. However, there are a few matters that need discussion," she said, her accented voice lilting as she perched a pair of reading glasses on her nose. "First, is the roster of your team."
Steve glanced around the room, his shoulders squared as he said, "There's nothing wrong with the team as a whole, ma'am."
"This is not about the worthiness of the members, Captain. It is that the world feels there isn't enough adequate representation, at home and abroad. They are asking for expansion, new candidates...in short, another team," Hawley told them, stunning them further. "You will hold overarching command, but they will be able to act independently to meet threats as needed. It has been deemed necessary to diversify, and to have adequate global coverage, with yours in the western hemisphere and the other in the eastern."
"More?" Clint mouthed across the table to Thor, the god shaking his head in response. Far be it from him to comment upon the inner workings of Midgardian politics. The older woman went on, adjusting the glasses on her nose and peering to Nick.
"I understand that Director Fury has a list of potential recruits to look through?"
Fury nodded, studiously avoiding the incredulous stares directed at him. "I do. We intend to check them out thoroughly and get back to you as quickly as possible."
"Excellent. I look forward to hearing of your choices. Now, the second item they wanted to confer about is the effectiveness of your relief efforts after major disasters. If you are to continue to act independently, they require you to take responsibility for collateral damage, I.E. property damage, injured civilians, et cetera. Bringing in other relief-based companies is a start, but they also wish to have you personally participate in the efforts where and when you can from now on," the representative pointed out.
"Which we've already been doing," Natasha replied, her bright eyes fastening on the other woman.
"Somewhat. The people of Johannesburg beg to differ. And Seoul." At that, her eyebrows rose minutely. "I trust that the situation will be remedied and there will be representation there soon?"
"It's already on the way, ma'am, and once Sokovia is secure, we'll head out to the other places to oversee their progress as well," Maria confirmed, when the others did no more than look to one another for an answer. Hawley shifted in her seat on her end, a little private smile cropped up. She was no fool; she knew that for such proposals to land in her lap with such speed meant that it was more than likely only a select few knew of the existence of such things. All this meeting was telling her was who was privy to it or not. Further matters were discussed, with debate going back and forth amongst the members of the team, the director of SHIELD and his second-in-command, compromises and agreements reached as time went on. Soon enough, she reached the final point on her list, and sighed.
"Lastly, we come back to the matter of Sokovia and certain events preceding it. While your judgment has been deemed good overall, Captain Rogers, I regret to inform you that the United Nations do not feel the same way about everyone on your team." The very air in the room was tense as Hawley took a breath, drinking from a glass of water near at hand before continuing. "Due to their actions before and during the last several days, they have asked that Mr. Anthony Stark and Doctor Bruce Banner be placed on probation for a minimum of three months at your behest, during which they abstain from any and all participation in missions, trials, and such in the field."
"What?!" Sam's head snapped up at that, his dark gaze darting from the screen to the billionaire. Tony's head was bowed, his nostrils flaring as he took in deep breaths, hands pressed hard against the tabletop.
"They can't interfere with their places on the team; they have no right to. It's unacceptable," the captain stated firmly, chin up and back straight. Under the table, Holly placed a hand around his wrist, his fists clenched tightly in his lap. Concern creased her face, but as she had through much of the representative's speech, she remained as a silent observer.
Hawley let her head tilt to the left, her gaze narrowing slightly. "Perhaps, Captain."
He shook his head. Though he certainly didn't agree with Tony and Bruce's actions, he did not believe that they should have to lose their places on the team, even temporarily, for a mistake. A mistake they worked tirelessly to rectify, at that. "I'm serious. They didn't mean to—"
The representative shook her head. "What they meant to do is irrelevant. What's important is that it happened at all. The United Nations has been willing to concede to the Avengers World proposals, but this is one of their main sticking points." She turned to look at Stark, the softness in her eyes contradicting the harsh set of her face. "Mr. Stark, your erratic and irreverent behavior over the last five years alone would have given them pause, but this has shown them that you have gone beyond expectation, and not in a good way. And as for Doctor Banner...you have heard of the debate of whether or not he should be arrested for his loss of control in Johannesburg. I have spent the last several hours talking them down from it; believe me, it was no sinecure. This was their compromise."
Hawley shared a glance with Nick Fury, both of them well aware of the downplay of her words and the disgust surfacing in their eyes. The ex-councilwoman, unbeknownst to them, had to shout down the Secretary of Defense, the irate, irrational man refusing to budge on his stance no matter what the rest of the world said. How such a fellow with an obvious grudge had made it that far into the political realm was unknown to her, but she was determined to not let him cow her. She now understood why Fury was so adamant about not including General Ross in any projects or initiatives back in the day. In the end, she carried the day, but she still had walked away bleeding. Metaphorically, of course.
Turning her attention back to Steve, whose jaw was stiff and immovable, she murmured, "I understand your loyalty and your passion, Captain Rogers. I have made the U.N. more than aware that to interfere with one is to interfere with all. And to penalize you, or limit you, could potentially mean the loss of the team as a whole. That is something they do not wish to do; they would rather work with you all on acceptable terms." Eyes flicked at the screen, from one Avenger to another, punctuating her words with each glance. "It is a suggestion, a strong one, but a suggestion nonetheless. You all have been granted immunity to travel and protect the world. They do not want to regret the choice to do so, so soon."
A beat of silence passed, in which the team and its leader said nothing. The ice in Steve's eyes had tripled, and he was about to make his stance clear when a cough cut through the air, making him pause.
Tony, arms folded around his middle, raised his head and spoke, his voice strong despite the hunch of his form. "Tell them we accept the terms of the probation in full."
Stunned, the others stared at his capitulation, his submission to authority something they had never seen before. But more than that, it was the look of absolute defeat that stilled any arguments to the contrary. Tony Stark was tired, and defeated. He would not fight, not this time.
"Tony..." Steve trailed off, unsure of what to say to him.
"Very well, Mr. Stark. You'll see to it that Doctor Banner is informed?" Hawley asked him, receiving only a slight inclination of the head in answer. Finally, the meeting was adjourned, the team members within going to their separate tasks. Tony shot out the door swiftly, before any of them could stop him. Glancing to Holly, Steve shared a wordless exchange with his fiancee, her nod for him to go met with a grateful peck on her temple before he did just that. Tripping out the room, the captain traversed the corridors of the helicarrier, make a few quick turns and narrowly avoiding other passing agents before he finally caught up to the retreating billionaire.
"Tony, hold on," Steve called out, hand reaching out and gripping Tony's arm in an attempt to halt him. It had the desired result, for even as Stark shook him off, he stopped. The other man exhaled sharply, carding a hand through his dark hair. The myriad of emotions running across his face flashed by too quickly to name them all, but chiefly among them was disappointment, pain, and resignation.
"Look, Cap, I know what you're gonna say, and frankly, I don't need to hear it. Contrary to popular belief, I do know what I'm doing. It's not worth jeopardizing the whole enterprise over this," Tony sighed heavily, scratching at the healing cut by his left eye. The dismal look on his face did not soften, but he would not renege on what he said. "I'm not going to let what's being offered get snatched away because I'm a prideful prick. Good thing Banner took off before this happened; at least he'll be able to fulfill his obligations either way, right?"
The last words were meant to be humorous, but they didn't even get a chuckle out of the captain. Instead, Steve felt the slightest edge of sadness creep into his vision.
"It's not...you're not..."
"You're right, I'm not. I think I need to not, for awhile." Tony shuffled his feet, shrugging his shoulders. "Truth be told, they kinda...beat me to the punch as it is."
Another revelation, another surprise for Steve that morning. "What?"
"After we got everything taken care of over here, I was gonna take a break for awhile. I need some time to get my head on straight," Stark said, his voice pitching deeper as he exposed the truth. "Hasn't been for a really long time. And Pepper...well, I know she wants me to...get some perspective on it all. This will make her happy."
"I don't agree with that."
The billionaire smirked at that, rolling his eyes. "When do you ever agree with me?"
"More often than you think," Steve replied, his hands going into his pockets as he looked at the floor for a few moments. "For the record, I didn't want this. Despite our differences in opinion. Despite...everything."
"I know, Steve. It's probably for the best, though. Besides, three months ain't that long. You can't get rid of me that easily."
Steve snickered at that. "True."
"And I'll have more time to tinker. Create some cool stuff that's been sitting on the back burner," Tony said, determinedly forcing himself to look on the bright side. With the enforced break, he could do so many things he'd been putting off. And maybe, just maybe, he'd start taking care of himself, as Pepper had so often begged him to do. He flapped a hand in the air, brushing off the concern still hovering around him. "It'll be fine."
While the captain said nothing, the sentiment in his expression told him how much he hoped that would be the case.
xXxXxXx
Time, now that it was not at the command of an unruly and murderous automaton, seemed to move more fluidly around Holly. She fell into her work on-board the helicarrier, occupying herself from thinking of the troubles that still awaited her back home. When not attending to some task put forward to her by the refugees' caretakers, she alternated between contacting Jane and Pepper about their advancements with the charities they'd involved in the rebuilding efforts and visiting people in the infirmary. There she would find the Vision, more often than not, a silent entity watching over the injured and defenseless, looking on them as though he was trying to better understand the fallacies of the human body, learn from the people around him. While not specifically tasked to it, he was near at hand to converse with Pietro, his sister close by and looking over all with her curious, bright eyes. Holly didn't go out of her way to ingratiate herself with them; honestly, the trio of newcomers made her nervous, despite having proved themselves to be able allies. Green and electric blue gazes on her, even when she did take the time to try and be friendly, seemed to know her exact sentiments, but never held them against her.
No, Holly instead could be found at least once a day in the small room down the hall, housing the injured little girl she'd helped extract from the wreckage of her home, conversing with her in an effort to distract her from the pain of her broken leg. Once Dasha had overcome her weariness and fear, she turned out to be quite amiable. She liked to play games, draw fantastical pictures on any given surface, and she greatly enjoyed animated films. Holly had worn down the battery on her phone from pulling up whatever Disney film that struck the girl's fancy the first day, her eagerness at watching them allowing her to forget, for a time, the horror that had been dealt to her country and her people. Sometimes Kay would drop by, her protective layer dropped whenever she spent time with the kid, who greatly admired her blue hair and always wanted to braid it or otherwise dress it up.
Her aunt, having come up from the city's remains as promised, would be there, helping translate the little girl's pronouncements when she fell back into her mother tongue. Lena, as she was called, was given leave to watch over her niece, since work had been ground to a screeching halt. Her dark hair and similar facial features placed her as a direct blood relative, but Holly did not ask anymore about it. It would be prying, and she didn't want that.
Two mornings after the attack on Sokovia, Holly had received a message summoning her to the medical bay. After giving her fiance a farewell kiss and dressing quickly, she traveled the halls swiftly, the gray walls churning by in familiarity now. Approaching the small room, she saw Dasha there, seated in a wheelchair outside the door with a bag in her lap. Her aunt was speaking in a rapid undertone to the medic, questions flying quickly, though her gaze flicked over to her as she came closer.
"Ms. Korbel...Lena?" Holly asked tentatively, wondering why she had been asked to come. Her eyebrows quirked up as Lena dipped her chin at the doctor, dismissing him. Patting Dasha on the shoulder as she passed, she sighed when the little girl merely concentrated on the pad of paper in hand, tracing something avidly.
"Yes. Thank you for coming," the other woman said, the accent of her voice lacing her words. Her face creased in a worn smile as she came forward; it had been a harrowing few days, and nobody was about to deny that. Tipping her head back to her niece, she told her, "Dasha has been discharged. We are free to go. She wanted to say good-bye."
Holly's eyes widened, nodding her understanding. Inclining her head towards the little girl, she waited until Lena flicked her fingers toward her, giving her leave to go to her. Stepping up to the wheelchair, she crouched down a little, meeting the child's eye as she looked up.
"Hey, Dasha. I hear you'll be leaving soon?"
Dark hair shifted and swung as Dasha confirmed the truth that statement. "Yes, we go to dom babičky."
Holly must have looked confused, for Lena gently cut in to explain. "Grandmother's house. In the capital. We'll live there while they rebuild."
A form of guilt washed over Holly then, but she managed to push it back with a tiny grin. "I bet she'll be glad to see you."
Circumstances notwithstanding, her brain muttered to her as the big brown eyes before her glanced away. Inwardly, she chided herself for being less than savvy in her speech, but she maintained her pleasant expression as best she could.
Another nod, and the child's mouth turned down a little at the corners. "I want to say bye before we go."
"And thank you," Lena supplied, going to her niece's side. As the young girl looked at her questioningly, she continued, "Ďakujem. V angličtine, Daria. Like before."
"Oh..." she trailed off, screwing up her brow for a moment and speaking as her aunt bid her. "Thank you."
"No problem, really. You're welcome," Holly corrected herself, patting the girl's arm and feeling a slight tug in her heart. Thinking for a moment, she held out her hands, asking silently if she could take the small notebook and pencil from Dasha. When it was handed to her, she opened it to a fresh sheet of paper, her scrawl tidy enough for the seven-year-old to understand. "Here. This is my email address. You should message me and let me know how you're doing. How things at your grandma's are, and stuff like that. You could write to me in English, maybe teach me some of your language, too."
The sadness that had been ever-present in the kid's eyes seemed to melt slightly, hopefulness blooming in her irises as she shot a look to her aunt.
"Prosím, Lena?"
The older woman deliberated for a moment, a crooked smile stretching her lips as both the little girl and American woman looked up to her
"Áno. Yes, she can," she told Holly, stepping back as the little one leaned forward. Draping her arms around Holly's shoulders, she whispered her farewells in her ear, gathered up for a brief moment in the other woman's embrace. When she was finished, Lena canted her head to the right, gesturing for Holly to walk with her a short distance away. The lightness in her face and tone were planed away with each passing step, solidity and seriousness weighing them down. "Thank you, again, for saving her."
A shoulder lifted, and Holly glanced at her feet. "You're welcome."
"I mean it," she insisted, suddenly reaching out and taking Holly's hands. Her fingers gripped hard, relaying her true feelings better than the expression of her face could. Head drooping, she muttered, "Daria, she's all we have left of my sister, and to almost lose her, too...thank you."
The shine of unshed tears in her eyes pulled Holly up short, the lump in her throat growing and making it difficult to swallow. This, this was what justified her agreement to go through with aiding the people in accordance to Hill and Fury's wishes. She may not have done much in the grand scheme of things, but at least she was able to do this: keep a family together.
"No problem, Lena," she intoned, heartfelt and honest. For a second or two, she glanced away, chewing her lip. "Can I do anything else?"
There really wasn't much she could actually do for them, but perhaps she could...she didn't know. Put in a good word, attempt to work out a deal for financial support for the two? She could try, and there was no harm in that. Gently, Lena shook her head, smiling dimming.
"Nie...no. Enough has been done," she remarked, withdrawing her hands and folding them behind her. For her part, Holly tucked hers into her pockets, both of them fastening their eyes elsewhere than on each other. Sighing, the older woman continued, "I only hope it won't stay this way too long."
"Not if they can help it."
"They?" Lena half laughed, hooking a thumb down the hall towards a set of agents scurrying by. "Are you not one of them?"
Snorting, Holly canted her head in the negative. "God, no. But they don't want this for your people, either, and will do what they can."
The skeptical glance shot her way spoke volumes, but since she did not outright reject the idea, Holly took it as a positive sign.
"I hope you're right."
With a final dip of the head, Lena moved away from her, back to her niece. Both of them waved once more to the young woman, the aunt gripping the handles of the chair and turning the girl away. The creak of cycling wheels and tapping feet faded away as they rounded a corner, departing from the helicarrier. For a long moment, Holly was left in silence, leaning against the wall, her arms around her middle and her eyes focusing on nothing. A presence surfaced behind her after awhile, her stiffness lessening when she recognized the intruder's voice as she spoke.
"I hope you're right, too."
Holly glanced over her shoulder, shrugging a little as Kay came closer. "If I'm wrong, then at least one person will be able to ream me out for it later."
"Make that two," the agent corrected her with a chuckle. Maintaining her grin, she went on, "Trust me, I'm keeping my eye on you, Martin."
The other woman frowned, her shoulders hunching at the implication. Another observer, another person nosing into her business. Noting the calm gleam in the agent's dark eyes, her tension dissipated further.
"Why not? Other people watch me; might as well have someone in the crowd I can tolerate," she mused aloud, shooting her a wry grin. Though mostly a bitter joke, she did at least think Kay would be one of the few who would look on her kindly, more kindly than the rest of the general public. They had worked in close proximity for the last couple of days, and though they'd had moments of discord, the two seemed to genuinely get along. Maybe having her watching her back wouldn't be all that bad.
Kay tossed her hair and lifted her chin, smiling broadly and not in the least perturbed by her statement. "That's one way to look at it."
Gesturing with an open palm, she allowed Holly to step ahead of her, both women moving in companionable silence out of the infirmary back to the hanger bay, where more work awaited them.
xXxXxXx
The meetings didn't end after that first day. There was a lot to consider, reorganize, now that the Avengers had changed their role in the world once more. As a functioning worldwide, endorsed response team, they had to restructure their very makeup from the inside out. Tony Stark, as he was technically grounded, worked on blueprints and data recovered, speaking with building teams stateside to form a new base of operations for the team. An old storage warehouse in upstate New York was being outfitted, sent out to replace and build what was necessary for training and housing the team, as well as setting up offices for the returning support agents. Have them moved away for the duration of his probationary period cut back on the temptation of breaking the rules, and in truth, a base that far out would be more secure than a bright, beacon-like tower in the middle of one of the most populated cities in the United States.
In between relief shifts down on the surface, Rogers was debating with Fury, looking over confidential files and drawing up names for the additional branch of the team. Locations for their separate base were to be scouted, considerations to be made about compatibility and personal goals of the elected members themselves. Interviews, if one could call them such, were being conducted on and off, the plan being to get them installed and ready for training as swiftly as possible. However, Steve made no decisions without the consult of his own team, gauging their reactions and impressions of the select few who were being considered. Fury made no objections to it; after all, he was not the leader of the teams in question, and he trusted the judgment of these people. It simply gave him the space and time to discuss other things, with other people.
It was during one of those private meetings, when the captain took the one called Barton and the agent Romanoff aside to pour over the file of an M.I.T. graduate and Olympiad in training (though socially deficient and low on patience), that Fury took it upon himself to call up another person to discuss future options. It was with surprise that when Steve returned, he found Bucky coming out of the director's personal office, thoughtfulness in his eyes and his jaw tight. Furrowing his brow in question, his old friend shrugged a shoulder, leaning back against the far wall and crossing his arms.
"I spoke with Fury, about my...efforts," he said quietly, a corner of his mouth turning up in self-deprecation. "Must've done something right. He wants to keep me around, work for him."
Shock entered Rogers' gaze, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Of all the things Fury could want to discuss with Bucky, he had not imagined that. "Yeah?"
Barnes nodded, his head drooping as he recalled the conversation. "But I have to undergo rehabilitation to do so. Minimum of six months."
Steve exhaled slowly, watching as he worked his jaw. No doubt Barnes considered enforced rehabilitation to be unnecessary, but he was not of the same opinion. Regardless of the past spent as a nameless, emotionless assassin, Bucky was still a man who was born in a different era, without the buffer of time to soften the point. Granted, he'd had access to technology and such whenever he was unfrozen for his duties, but that did not mean he had a great understanding of the world around them any longer. Even with the vast differences between what had brought them both into the modern era, he could easily relate to the confusion, the feelings of loss, whether or not his old friend admitted to them.
"That sounds about right. I had to do it; I wasn't allowed to work for SHIELD otherwise, let alone function in the world," he confessed, brushing off the the swift snap of Bucky's gaze. It was true; in between the Battle of New York and taking up residence in D.C., he was given a similar offer, to take command a specialized team within SHIELD. The same stipulation was given to him, and while he had misgivings about it all, he still went through with it. The rehabilitation got him up to speed, enough to allow him to function, at least. A hand cupped the air and he allowed himself a wry grin. "Had something to do with being frozen for almost seventy years and being woefully behind on the times."
For his part, Bucky managed a small smirk, but it disappeared rapidly. "He told me therapy was a requirement, too, or he'd rescind the offer."
"Did that, as well. Still do, on occasion," the captain murmured, his chin dropping. The same was true of Clint, and Natasha, and anyone who worked for the organization. It was nearly as common amongst agents as using the training facilities or attending horribly boring debriefing meetings. Yes, he hadn't been to see his therapist for quite some time, but that wasn't to say that he had anything against the whole idea. In the past, the notion of regularly maintaining visits with a psychiatrist or psychologist had more negative implications, but it was not so now. After all this, perhaps he should schedule himself for an appointment, and maybe pass the information along to Holly. He could feel her twitch and turn as she slept the last couple of nights, her own dreams shaking him awake just as much as his had done in the past. Staring at the toe of his boot, he continued, "It helps to be able to talk to someone, to process and survive the present."
"Hmm," was the only answer Bucky gave, his arms tightening.
"You gonna take him up on it?"
"I don't know. I don't have a whole lot of other options," the ex-assassin said, outlook on the future bleak. The honesty was harsh, cutting deep into him. Looking up, he met Steve's gaze fully. "And I'm...I'm tired of hiding, and running."
It was exhausting, constantly looking over his shoulder, always suspecting the worst and never receiving the best. It was hard, seeking redemption with no actual avenue to obtain it. At that rate, he would end up in some hole in the wall place, remembering everything he'd ever done and killing himself slowly, from the inside, broken and beaten. It was not what he wanted, deep down.
"When would he want you to start?" the captain inquired, shifting his eyes to the closed door of the office just a few feet away.
Bucky breathed carefully, flicking a few fingers into the air. "Immediately. Once things get squared away here, he'll send me to a rehab place God only knows where."
For a long moment, neither man said anything, instead ruminating on the offer given. Subtly, Bucky ground his teeth, leaning his head back against the cool wall. Noticing the reticence there, Steve scratched at the back of his neck, knowing the next words that would come out of his mouth could make the difference.
"You said yourself that you're looking for a chance," he reminded his friend. Squaring his shoulders, he went on, "And while working for Fury isn't ideal, by any stretch of the imagination, it's another step to take towards that."
Barnes snorted. "Right."
A hand clapped onto Bucky's shoulder, drawing him out of his own mind and back to his friend. For a moment, the two kids from Brooklyn were silently commiserating, supporting each other through thick and thin.
Steve half-grinned, his eyes reflecting total seriousness. "Whatever you decide, Buck, I'm with ya."
"I know." Bucky nodded once, the truth resonating around them. As the captain dropped his hand from his shoulder, he canted his head to the right, a rueful gesture. "Six months."
His friend winced visibly, recalling his stint with rehabilitation. "It'll pass. And things will be...very different."
Moving away from the wall, Bucky strode down the corridor, flashing a blank look over his shoulder to his friend. Underneath the layer of coldness, though, there was something akin to hope dawning.
"I'm counting on that."
xXxXxXx
Three evenings after the morning debriefing took place, Holly was bent over her laptop, and multiple tabs were opened before her. By that point, many of the refugees aboard had been brought back down to the remains of the city, survey crews arriving and making assessments of the damage. Representatives from the various companies Maria Hill had kept in touch with had also come, helping outline a grid and set up the rebuilding process. With the population aboard the helicarrier dwindling down to its original numbers, she consequently had less to do in the evenings than before. Glancing at her phone briefly, she noticed the flashing light and icon indicative of messages received. A frown pulled at her lips, dreading the eventual future conversations she was going to have to have. Sarah, at least, had kept her messages to texting, something which she could easily answer. Her parents, though, were bound to have questions about her fiance's activities over the last several days, and the level of her involvement. Aside from short phone calls in which she told them they were both alright and unharmed, she had not given them the full story as of yet. Her stomach clenched at the thought; it was going to be unpleasant and emotional, and frankly, she wasn't looking forward to it.
A yawn coursed through her, and she rubbed her eyes for a second or two after dropping the phone back down beside her. She'd spent too long staring at the screen, but she was fascinated by what she was reading and couldn't put it to one side. Idly, she ran a finger over the red welt of her new scar, the last remnants of the stitches that had been on her forehead. One of the doctors aboard finally had the time to remove them for her, and she was so relieved to have them gone now. Without the pulling thread, the only reminder of her injury came from her physical touch. Poking and prodding it would not remove it, she told herself, her attention focusing again on the laptop before her.
"What are you looking at?"
The familiar baritone pulled Holly's attention away from her computer, made her grin. Though early evening, she had not expected Steve to be back from his duties so soon. A little worn down, with the five o'clock shadow surfacing, but there he was nonetheless. Still, she was pleased to see him standing in the doorway of their shared quarters, leaning against it with his arms crossed. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there, watching her with such warmth in his eyes. Combing her hair over to one side, she stretched her arms above her head, working out the kinks. She been sitting cross-legged on the bed for awhile, hunched over her laptop, a borrowed notebook and pen settled to one side. It was just as well; she needed the break.
"I'm taking a minute to clean out my inbox," she told him, flapping a hand in the air. At least the carrier was good for WiFi, if nothing else, despite the occasional spottiness. As he came into the room and let the automatic door shut, she shifted sideways, allowing him to take a seat next to her. "That, and I'm looking at some wedding stuff."
Perching next to her, Steve leaned away from her, his lips quirking. "Am I allowed to look, or is this one of those bad luck things?"
She snickered, shaking her head at him. "That's mostly about the dress, and since it hasn't been picked yet, you have nothing to worry about."
He chuckled, amusement dimming as he picked up her notebook and looked it over. A list was scratched over the paper, her normally tidy handwriting scrawled and crossed out all over the place. Peering at it closer, he made out a few words here and there.
"That's, uh, that's quite a list you've got going here," he muttered. Shrugging a shoulder and letting out a small laugh, he went on, "Maybe we should just elope, and cut out the extensive worry you'll have over...flower placements?"
Holly giggled under her breath. She tapped a finger lightly along the edge of the keyboard, biting her lip for a moment. "Or we just have a very short engagement."
That cut his laughter off quickly, the humor bleeding away the longer he stared at her. His suggestion had been (partially) a joke, but the set of her face told him how seriously she was considering it. His throat constricted in a swallow, and if she had to guess, his heartbeat must have quickened.
"How short are we talking here?"
"Month and a half, roughly, at the most?" she suggested, the tab about pursuing such a course minimized on her screen. Hastily, she soldiered on, "It's possible to make it happen; it doesn't have to be big or fancy, but if we work at it together..."
Steve's blue eyes widened at the prospect, at the thought of everything happening so soon. Tenderly, he reached up, tucking back the loose strands of her hair, another thick swallow sounding audibly.
"You want to do that?"
Holly sighed, closing her laptop with a decisive click, setting it down on the bed behind her. Reaching out, she looped her arms around Steve's waist, her head resting upon his shoulder for a moment.
"Steve, the last week has given me a lot of time to think about life, and what I want out of it, and what I want with you. Our future was almost literally taken away from us, and it could happen again. Waiting for a prolonged period of time seems...silly and pointless to me, now," she said. It was the truth. Where earlier they had decided to wait on making any decisions regarding the wedding, she no longer felt the same way. The whole debacle with Ultron drove home the point of how dangerous life with Steve could be, and how little of it she wanted to lose, or miss out on. She did not think her heart could take another disaster like that, not if she wasn't already wed to him, promised to him. There was a propensity for courage in her, deep down; Steve had brought that out in her. As his wife, she could face more than she could as his girlfriend or fiancee. Pulling away, she cupped his jaw gently, her thumb stroking across his cheek as her dark eyes locked onto his.
"If you're absolutely dead-set on eloping, then I will gladly go with you to the courthouse at the earliest possible moment. But I...I would still like a wedding. Same as you, right?" she asked, taking his bare hint of a nod as confirmation. "I think we can pull this off. On top of everything else. What do you say?"
Perhaps she had pushed him too far, she thought, given how he dropped his eyes to the notebook in his hands, scanning the loops and scratches of her handwriting. Perhaps he would have preferred to wait, and would rather she had not brought up the subject at all. It could have put him off the notion altogether. However, in her heart she knew that was not the case. Still, she waited for his answer, and soon enough, he laced the fingers of his left hand with her right, squeezing gently. His lips met hers in a sweet, simple kiss, one that he pulled back from with a small smile.
"I say we've got some work to do, Princess," he said, tapping one of his broad fingers against the notebook. "How can I help?"
Her answering smile, while tired, was still wide and bright. "Let's start by checking out this website, Nerfherder, and we'll go from there."
Opening the laptop again, Holly pointed out the list of wedding do's and don'ts upon the webpage, a flush of anticipation and excitement flowing through her as Steve curled an arm around her and looked closer, ready to take on the new challenge with her.
A/N: If it wasn't already painfully obvious, I have very little understanding about politics and world law. So if what's happening with the Avengers being allowed to work and expand with the U.N.'s blessing so quickly seems unbelievable to you, well...I'm sorry. However, the way I've interpreted this universe has kind of allowed for that sort of thing, allowed for the rules to be changed and broken and at a swift rate. If that's not kosher to you, then I guess it's just not. Just...suspend your disbelief?
Shout out to Councilwoman Hawley. Figured we might as well get some World Security Council survivors inboard this enterprise. And while it seems unfair (and I'm really trying not to be, truly), Tony really does need that time away. He's come to realize that through all his experiences and the events of the last few days that he needs to be less Iron Man and more Tony Stark, and he needs to figure out the distinction in that time. It's not him giving up; it's him allowing himself to get help and actually adjust, which I don't think he's ever fully done. Much of the same will be happening with Bucky, too, as you can see. Also, more wedding stuff being mentioned, because why not? :)
Things are moving apace, as they say, with still more changes to come. Stick around, if you so desire. Next chapter may or may not include more time jumping, we shall see.
A few of the foreign words here were done with an online translator and are as follows (if I screwed them up, I apologize):
Ďakujem. V angličtine...—Slovak; Thank you. In English...
Prosím—Slovak; Please.
Áno—Slovak; Yes.
Nie—Slovak; No.
I don't own anything from the MCU, nor do I own any companies or pop culture references mentioned above, including ones from Star Wars. and Marvel comics (in reference to the new recruits they're looking over. If you can guess the one that I mentioned in the part where Bucky has his conference with Fury, I'll give you...a digital cookie, I guess).
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!
EDIT: Oh, and to answer a couple questions posed to me...my plans for Kay aren't solidified yet, but I do have an idea of where she's going, Jo. And yes, to me the Brutasha thing seemed a little shoved in there, but it was an intriguing idea to work with, so I just went with it.
Okay, for real now, see you all for the next chapter!