Chapter 3

I wake up feeling absolutely terrible. My head throbs and my heart hurts and below it all I am deeply, deeply ashamed.

Also, my altercation with John is all over the news. How humiliating.

Bucky is asleep, sitting on the floor against the couch with his head tilted at an awkward angle. I watch him for a few moments, glad that he's getting some rest. His short, dark hair is a little mussed, his stubbled jawline more relaxed than usual. It's nice to see him rest.

Trying to put last night's incident out of my mind, I go to the kitchen and start making us some breakfast.

When I was young, my mom would make Steve, Bucky and I toast, omelettes and baked beans every Sunday morning. Heavenly smell of cooked food would flood the apartment and all three of us would scurry out of the blanket-fort that we'd constructed in the living room, vying for the first plate of food. I was so young that I'd trip over my own feet trying to keep up with my older brother and his best friend.

They always included me, even when I was indefinitely annoying.

Everything was so simple and safe back then. Steve always protected me and Bucky always protected Steve. We were a unit of safety and solidarity. How I miss those days. How I miss my brother.

The toaster bings and the microwave beeps. I serve up three platefuls of food, even though Steve isn't here. I still set him a place at the table, almost every time I eat.

"That smells good," Bucky comments from the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the frame. His voice is still riddled with sleep, his eyes hooded.

"Beans, omelettes and toast," I proclaim happily, setting down the final plate on the small dining table.

"Just like when we were kids," he murmurs, wistful look in his now-alert eyes.

"C'mon, let's eat," I say. My mom used to say that all the time.

Bucky never comments on the third plate or Steve's empty spot at the head of the table. He just steals some of the food off the spare plate when he's through with his own. Super-soldier appetite and all.

"So what do you know about this John Walker guy?" I ask as we eat.

"He's an asshole," Bucky mutters bitterly, spearing a piece of his omelette with unnecessary force.

"Is he though? He might be a good guy," I say sullenly. "I accosted him."

Bucky pauses to stare at me intensely. "Hey, he deserves a lot worse than that. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You're enabling me, Buck. What I did was wrong. We're not supposed to enable each other, remember? Dr Raynor said so."

"It's not enabling; it's the truth. Did you see him parading around, taking pictures and signing shit? That's not what Steve's about. When Steve was forced to do that shit back in the 40s, he hated it. John Walker is not Captain America," Bucky insists. "He never will be, no matter how hard he tries."

~O~

"Hey Sam," I answer the front door, letting Sam inside. "I'm really sorry about what happened."

"You said that a lot last night," he points out, coming to stand in the living room. His arms cross over his chest. He always looks a little defensive.

"Yeah…It just got out of hand. I was…upset." I don't want to condemn Sam for giving up the shield; I'm sure he had his reasons. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt to see it in the hands of a stranger.

"Look, Flo, if I had known what they were going to do with the shield, I never would've given it to them. I would've kept it or given it to you," he says earnestly. "Which is what I should've done in the first place."

I shake my head. "No. No, I don't want it. I can't use it, it isn't mine. But it isn't his either. He didn't even know Steve and to just be announced as the new Captain America like that…"

"I know. It hurts."

It does hurt, but it makes me feel a little better knowing that Sam feels the same way. I hug him before he leaves, even though he's not really a hugger.

And then I stand and stare at the picture of Steve and myself, sitting above the fireplace. I miss him so bad that it hurts.

My fingers move to the inside of my upper arm, gently feeling the small bump where the chip that suppresses my powers sits.

I decide to make a phone call.

~O~

"I'm glad you called," Daisy says, swirling her spoon around a cup of chocolate ice cream. We sit in the quiet of Sal's Ice Cream Shop, on small metal stools.

"I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner," I say. "You look different - good. Your hair's longer." I smile.

"It's been years, yet you look pretty much the exact same," she says. "Perks of time travel, I suppose."

"Something like that."

Her curled hair is lighter than when I last saw her and she even carries herself differently. More calm, more sure of herself. I thought she was confident back then, when we met, but she seems even more so now.

"I saw on TV last night," she says. "The thing with the new Captain America. I'm sorry."

I dip my head. I'd been sort of hoping she might've missed that. "Yeah, not my best moment. Probably not my worst either."

"No?" She grins. "What was?"

"Hmm… I stuck chewing gum in a boy's hair once when I was ten. Really got it in there too - he had to cut it out."

Her laughter fills the shop as she shakes her head. "What'd he do to deserve such a thing?"

"He was punchin' on Steve. Bucky wasn't around so I stepped in," I shrug. "It didn't go over so well."

"Seems like you were a good sister," she says. "I never had any real siblings growing up. It would've been nice to have one as close as you two were."

"Yeah," my voice goes quiet as sadness looms over me. I clear my throat. "Anyway, there is actually a reason I called you today. Wanna hear it?"

"I do." She leans forward, open and inviting.

"I want you to tell me more, about being an Inhuman. I mean, I know we talked a bit back in 2014, but I was just so overwhelmed then."

"I get it. It's an overwhelming thing to go through. And given your circumstances…I get why you had that chip put in your arm, why you chose to suppress your powers. Really, I get it."

"But you think it's the wrong choice?" I surmise.

She shrugs, leaning back and licking her spoon. "A few years ago I would have said yes, absolutely. You can't run from who you are. But now…I guess I have more perspective. Once upon a time, given the choice, I would've suppressed my powers too."

"But you control them so well."

"I didn't always. I've lost control and hurt people, killed people. It hasn't been easy," she swallows thickly. "But I pushed through it. It's a part of who I am."

"The thing is, with my powers, they just displace me. Before I got this chip in my arm, I was being constantly thrown through time. I couldn't stop it, couldn't control it. It stripped me of who I am because I couldn't be anybody." Thinking about that time in my life is hard. I was so alone, so terrified of what my life had been reduced to. "But that's not all…. There are things I regret."

"Like what?"

I shift forward, biting the inside of my cheek. "After half the world disappeared, it hurt. A lot. There was so much pain everywhere and so I…I took the easy way out. I got the chip removed from my arm and I jumped forward to when we could figure out a way to solve the problem. Five years. I skipped five years, time I could've spent with my brother. But instead I took the easy way out because I didn't want to live in a world with so much pain. Now I have to live with the fact that I missed out on all that time with him and he's…gone."

Daisy's expression shows nothing but empathy and understanding. "I'm sorry," she says. "That's a hard thing to deal with. But don't forget, that it was your blood that helped the Avengers time travel and bring back half the population. Your powers, the ones you hate so much, they helped save the world. That's pretty important."

"I never really thought about it like that."

"Look, you're Inhuman. That can't be changed - not ever. The sooner you accept that this is a part of you, the sooner you can learn to control it. So long as you suppress it, it will always control you because you'll be fuelled by fear."

I hesitate, but not for long. I'm done living in fear. "How do I start to control it?"

~O~

White bandage wrapped around my upper arm, I face Daisy at the Brooklyn SHIELD facility. "Tell me again about the feeling you get right before you jump," she tells me.

"It's weird, kind of like I'm floating for a few moments. My stomach gets all tight and I get a little light-headed," I explain.

"Ok, I want you to focus on that feeling. Try to conjure it in your mind—"

"Conjure it?" I interrupt and Daisy gives me a look. "Sorry."

"Just think about it. Try to make yourself feel that way again."

"What if I jump through time and land in a different location?" I ask. "I mean, I always land in Brooklyn, but not the exact same spot."

"You can't jump locations from here. One of our engineers, Fitz, built this room specifically to contain Inhumans. You can use your powers in the confines of the room, but there's no way for you to get out."

"That sounds ominous, but ok."

Daisy holds back an amused smile. "Just, concentrate. Think about the feeling you get right before you jump in time. But also think about containing it, about shortening it so you don't jump forward for too long, like it's a box inside your mind. You control when it opens and shuts, alright? It doesn't control you."

"It doesn't control me," I repeat under my breath, like a mantra or a prayer. "It doesn't control me."

I try to conjure the feeling I get right before I time-jump, just like Daisy told me to. But nothing happens.

"It's not working."

"Keep trying," she encourages.

I tense my stomach muscles, trying to recreate the feeling I usually get. My eyes clench shut as tightly as they can.

In my mind, I construct a box. It's small and wooden and basic. But inside is time. Not a linear, straight line but more a galaxy of moments. The lid to the box opens and my stomach tightens like a fist.

My head starts to spin and I gasp, falling to the floor. My eyes open.

The room looks the same but I'm alone. Daisy is gone.

Oh god. Dread rises in me, making me feel sick. I go to the door of the stark, white, padded room and begin to bang on it. "Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there—"

The door slides open with a hiss and Daisy hurries toward me from down the corridor.

"How long has it been? How long was I gone?" I ask her desperately. She looks the same; same hair, same clothes.

"It's ok, it's alright Flo. You jumped forward two hours and," she glances down at her watch, "seven minutes."

Relief hits me like a sharp slap to the face and I blow out a happy breath. "Oh thank god. When you weren't in the room, I assumed it had been years."

"No, I just went to make a sandwich. I got bored of waiting. You did have me worried there for a minute."

"Really? You thought I couldn't do it?"

"No! I never doubted you for a second," she grins. "Let's do it again. This time, maybe try to just jump for a few minutes."

~O~

Exhaustion burrows into my bones, weighing me down like stones tied to my feet.

I collapse onto my couch, leaning my head back and staring up at the white ceiling. There are some brown marks across it that I haven't noticed before. I'll have to clean them at some point. How does one clean a ceiling? I'd need a pretty tall ladder.

I'm really not so great at everyday-adult things. Apparently, I'm not so great at time-jumping either, since in the end I was unable to control exactly how long I jumped for. It was just over two hours the first time, then an hour and a half the second time and then three hours the last time. I may not be able to control how long I jump for, but I at least feel semi-confident now that I can control if I jump or not. Which means there shouldn't be any surprise time leaps in my future. A large relief; the last thing I want to do is leave Bucky behind. I've done that to too many people I care about.

My eyes have just slid closed, head lolling against the arm of the couch and sleep beckoning me, when there's a sharp knock at my front door. With a groan, I heave myself up and stumble to answer it.

When I see John Walker standing on my front porch, it's like a bucket of ice water has been poured over my head. I blink at him, alert and alarmed.

"Are you here to arrest me?" The words escape my mouth before I can even think them through. His eyebrows furrow.

"What? No," he chuckles half-heartedly. "No, come on. It isn't like that." He touches his chest. "I'm not your enemy, Flo."

My spine straightens, lips pursing. Why is he calling me that? I hate it coming from his mouth. Steve gave me that nickname when I was only a baby.

"I just wanted to come and talk to you. I thought, if you got to know me, you might be a little more receptive to the idea of me carrying the shield," he explains but I still hesitate. Seeing this, he adds, "Just give me a chance, alright? That's all I'm asking for. One chance."

Feeling guilty for what I put him through the other night, I nod and move to the side to let him in. He walks inside and meanders over to the fireplace, picking up the photo of Steve and I. My fingers curl into my palms to keep from snatching it away from him.

"This is a nice picture, I like this one." He says it like he's seen the photo before, like he's seen a lot of photos of Steve and I. It's unsettling. I stand awkwardly and watch him put the photo back, run his fingers along the bricks of the fireplace, looking all around the house like he's studying it. "I wish we had've gotten the chance to meet before I was announced as Captain America. I think things would've been different between us." He smiles at me ruefully. "Everything just happened so fast, you know? They wanted me to be introduced to the world as soon as possible. But I want you to know that I always had every intention of seeking you out and…asking for your blessing, I suppose."

Unsure what to say to all that, I decide to just go with, "I don't think I really want to give you my blessing."

"I get that, I really do. You're protective over your brother. It's sweet, considering who he was and what he was capable of."

My eyebrows furrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He quickly puts his hands up in an innocent gesture. "Nothing nefarious, I swear. Just…you know, Steve wasn't exactly a saint."

A small sound of shock or indignation escapes my mouth. "Did you come here just to insult my brother?"

"No, no. That wasn't an insult, I'm sorry. I'm messing this up even more than I thought I would." He seems genuinely embarrassed but in a surface-level way. "Look, the bottom line is that I respect your brother for who he was. He wasn't the perfect soldier who did whatever he was told. He struck out on his own when he felt like it was the right thing to do. Just like when he refused to sign the Sokovia Accords. Now, that might not be me or how I operate, but it doesn't need to be. Because I'm not trying to be Steve, I'm not trying to replace Steve. I'm just trying to be the best Captain America that I can be."

Understanding blooms in my stomach. Maybe John Walker really is just trying to give some hope to the people…

"And it'd be a whole lot easier if the world knew that I had the full support of Steve Rogers' beloved sister."

The understanding dies a quick and painless death.

"I've been invited to do an interview tomorrow night for Good Morning America at my old high school and I thought you could join me and we could clear the air, publicly, about the incident the other night."

"I think you should leave," I say.

"Wha—? Are you serious? Look, Flo—"

"You need to stop calling me that and you need to leave." My voice breaks a little, falling into a whisper, but I stand my ground, crossing my arms over my chest and tipping up my chin.

"I'm trying to do the right thing here," he says.

"Please just go. Just go, now. Right now!" I point toward the door. With a great sigh, he turns and trudges out the door, slamming it closed behind him.

I stand in the middle of my living room, shaking with some great emotion that I can't quite name. I pull out my phone and dial Bucky's number - there's really no one else I can call. "Can you come over?"

~O~

"He was here?" Bucky demands, blue eyes lit with rage. "He just invited himself in?"

"Well…not exactly. I mean, I invited him in."

"Why? Why would you even let him through the front door?"

"He showed up here! What was I supposed to do? Tell him to get lost?"

"Yes!" Bucky shouts. "Absolutely!"

I shake my head, turning away from him.

"What'd he want?" Bucky asks.

"I don't know. To make amends, I guess." I slump back against the wall, looking at the ground. "I think he really just wanted me to declare my support for him publicly."

Bucky scoffs, his face twisting. "Unbelievable. He's got some goddamn nerve."

"I just hate how he acts like he knows everything about us, about our lives." A shiver races down my spine. Something about John Walker does not sit right with me. I don't think he's the wholesome, all-around American guy that he's parading as.

Bucky's eyes are drawn to the bandage around my arm. "What is that? Did he hurt you?"

"What? No. Of course not. It's…" I touch the fringes of the white bandage with my fingertips. "I got the chip taken out of my arm."

He goes very still, muscles moulding into marble like a statue. His eyes, blue and endless, drown me in their intensity. That's how I feel sometimes; like I'm lost in him, in his violence and heat.

"Why would you do that?" He questions and beneath his unfaltering stoicism, I see fear and hurt. I know he thinks I'm planning on leaving him behind, but it's actually the opposite.

"I'm learning to control it, control that part of me. I won't be jumping forward in time, I know how to stop it from happening. SHIELD has been helping—"

"SHIELD?" He is indignant and disbelieving. "You trust SHIELD? You know Steve fought to take them down."

"This is a different faction of SHIELD, alright? They're not Hydra. They're the good guys."

"You're not going to be able to control it," he says point-blank, like it's a pre-established fact. "You're going to end up jumping so far into the future that everything you know will be gone." It's a horrible and hurtful thing to say and I think he knows that. I draw back, tears filling my eyes.

"If that's what you want to believe then I can't stop you." My voice catches but I push through. "But I also can't live in fear of myself forever. Neither can you. We both need to find ways to move forward. This is mine, whether you like it or not."

He remains glaring at me for a moment longer before turning on his heel and stalking out. I wait for the slam of the door, but it never comes. Instead, it thuds closed softly.

Wet eyelashes brush the tops of my cheeks as I clamp a hand around the bandaged incision on my arm and squeeze until it hurts.

~O~

A/N: Hello, hello! Please enjoy this longish chapter. I feel like Flo's character is starting to develop a little more which makes me love this story more.

Also as far as the SHIELD thing goes, I know that the storyline in Agents of SHIELD deviated from the MCU storyline quite a lot, but for the purpose of this story, they're all in the same universe.

I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this and thank you SO much to those who have reviewed. Please let me know any thoughts in a review!

Thanks, lots of love x