A/N: Here we go again! Part two of Clock of My Heart begins here. And holy crap, I actually met my deadline for once. lol
Obviously things will be a bit different from here as we head into a new arc of the story, but I hope you all will continue to enjoy. Thanks for sticking with me thus far. :D
2014
A man in a forest green blazer stood in front of Jane in the cramped aisle. He was on his phone talking in French. Occasionally he laughed and his nasally snort made Jane wince and wish even harder that everyone would get their overhead luggage, the doors would open, and they could get the hell off this plane already.
This was why she hated flying.
Fingering the chain around her neck, she pictured herself back in Puente Antiguo, in the relative peace and quiet of the desert. Alone in her trailer, there were no screaming children, no overly chatty seatmates who wanted her to know their life story, and definitely no French guys with Steve Urkel voices. Just her, her thoughts, and a bowl of Izzy's famous chili. Speaking of which, she needed to eat something. Her flight to DC had been early and she hadn't had time to grab a snack before boarding. That single bag of dry, salt-free pretzels only made her stomach whine louder. That's what she got for flying economy.
'You could've afforded better,' she reminded herself as Blazer man struggled with his oversized carryon bag while everyone ahead of them deboarded. 'It's like you want to be a broke loser again, Jane.'
Which wasn't the case at all. The recognition, the prestige, the money, it was still very new to her. Her transition from broke fringe scientist to respected astrophysical authority seemed to have occurred in a blur. A blur of alien invaders, advanced technological fantasy worlds, and more world-saving than any normal person had a right to be involved in. Somehow, she'd come out of it alive, in one piece, relatively sane, and with a tidal wave of offers to speak at conventions and appear on every other late-night talk show.
Her cab driver asked for her autograph. He wanted to frame it for his daughter.
There was just so much to do now. Events to attend, speeches to give, photos to take. No time for toiling away in the lab with a carton of Dim Sum, staring at a screen and hoping something would happen. In the last few weeks, she'd barely even thought about the forties…
Blazer man wrenched his bag free and Jane let out a breath. He moved relatively quickly through the rows of seats. Jane kept her eyes on his back until she was out the door and on the jetbridge. She could already hear the voice over the loudspeaker announcing the next flight ready to board. It was a busy afternoon at Dulles International, and the only saving grace was the water fountain directly across from her gate.
Jane drank until her parched throat no longer stung. Her hunger was alleviated for the moment, and she followed the signs down several halls and up an escalator to baggage claim. She only stopped to stare longingly inside one of the many restaurants once. It was a bagel store offering seven dollar smoothies. That knocked the sense back into her real fast.
Her bag was one of the first ones on the carousel. From there, it was just a matter of finding her ride. According to his texts, he'd be there before her plane landed, and she'd know him when she saw him.
This proved harder than it sounded. She walked all around the area, but blonde heads or impossibly broad shoulders appeared in her line of sight. A few men almost looked right, but they were inevitably accompanied by a wife or children or even a pair of Great Danes in one case.
"Where are you?" she muttered.
Her duffel bag was heavier than it should've been with only a few changes of clothes and the bare essentials of books and weather monitoring equipment. Every now and then, she picked it back up, just in case a bag thief got extra bold. The crowds never thinned, no matter how hard she willed it. Unable to see over the much taller people surrounding her, Jane stepped onto an empty bench. She heaved her bag up, arms aching from the strain. It was time to renew that Planet Fitness membership.
In the far left corner by the restrooms, a man wearing sunglasses and a blue baseball cap caught her eye. He appeared to be staring back at her, but it was impossible to tell under the shades. Blonde hair, dark at the roots, stuck out from under his cap, neatly trimmed around the ears with military precision. He moved easily through the crowd, his impressive height and build a help rather than a hindrance. Everyone knew better than to stand in his path, even if they had no idea who it was under that paper-thin disguise.
Jane grinned as he approached. She forgot her bag for the moment and jumped into his arms, squeezing him for all he was worth. He was careful not to use too much strength when hugging back and kissed her on the cheek. "Missed you."
"Missed you, too," Jane said.
It occurred to her that to the people around them, this had to look like a meeting between lovers. Or at least two impossibly close friends.
If only they knew…
"How have you been?" Steve asked. "It's been a while since your last email."
They were in a small '50s themed diner half a block away from his apartment, his favorite place to eat. It was just past the lunch rush and they had a table near the kitchen. The hostess was going over receipts at the counter and sent occasional glances their way. Steve and Jane both instinctively hid their faces each time, though there was no telling who, if anyone, she had recognized.
"Yeah, sorry about that," said Jane as she played with the salt shaker. "Things have been… hectic lately. I'm sure I don't have to tell you."
One of the first messages he sent her following their fateful reunion was to let her know he was joining up with SHIELD. The Avengers were 'semi-disbanded' in the sense that they only came together in the event of a global scale catastrophe. In the meantime, Steve, being Steve, would not stand idle or get a real job. He was in a different country every week, taking out terrorist cells and thwarting assassination attempts.
His missions were top secret, and Jane was technically a civilian. There was very little he could legally tell her, as he explained in detail during a late-night conversation on Jane's secure phone line. It felt wrong to say the last few years had aged him, like a particularly bad joke, but even over email, she could sense his exhaustion. It was in his voice and in the subtle but present lines around his eyes.
"Yeah, guess not," he said, running a hand over his face. "How's Darcy? Still working on that degree?"
Jane pretended not to be disappointed at his non-sequitur. "She's good. Graduated a few months ago and went back to London for the summer."
"She must like it there."
"Well, she met a guy." They fell silent for a moment. Steve gave her a look, but Jane couldn't return it. She took a deep breath that almost didn't shake. "Now I think she's looking into grad schools. We still text here and there but she's busy, so…"
Steve nodded. "Yeah."
Jane chewed on her lip. "What about you? Fury still giving you trouble?"
"You know, if I tell you," he leaned closer, lowering his voice, "then I'd have to kill you."
She smirked. "I'll take my chances."
The waitress returned, placing their food on the table with a hurried apology for the wait. What looked like an entire soccer team had just been seated in her section, so when she rushed off before they had a chance to ask for more napkins, Jane didn't hold it against her. The arrival of their meals halted the conversation as she wolfed down the first half of her BLT with only a few sips of water in between. Steve gawked at her but didn't comment.
"The other day, we had a hostage situation aboard the Lumerian Star, a SHIELD vessel stationed off the coast," he explained after swallowing a bite of his burger. "This guy, Georges Batroc, he's a mercenary. He and his team hijacked the ship. I dispatched with the STRIKE team and Romanov. I'm sure you remember her."
Jane very much did. She had yet to meet the infamous Black Widow, though she'd be hard-pressed to find someone who hadn't heard of the enigmatic and somewhat menacing Avenger. "Is she still trying to set you up with that woman in R&D?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "She's moved on to accounting now. Apparently, I have to let her introduce me to Kristen. She's great."
"I think that's the third time you've bailed on her."
"That I've told you about," said Steve. "I try not to keep secrets, but…"
Jane giggled, and Steve shared in her humor with only a weak smile. There was a time when even Dugan's corniest one-liners could get a laugh out of him. Now he slipped back into severity with all the effort it took to blink.
"I was supposed to lead the counterattack. Secure the hostages and take Batroc in for questioning." He rolled his shoulders and Jane thought she heard something crack. "Seemed easy enough. Almost too easy."
"Certainly a walk in the park for you," Jane said.
Steve hummed. "Not quite. Turns out Batroc packs a real punch. Took me minutes to take him down."
"Damn, a whole minute," Jane pretended to shudder. This was much better, that note of casual, good-natured arrogance. Just like someone they used to know… "So what happened? The mission didn't fail, did it?"
"Not exactly," Steve sighed. "After I took down Batroc, Romanov went directly against my orders to hack into the system mainframe on Fury's orders."
Jane blinked. Somewhere in her bag at his apartment was a political thriller novel she'd picked up at an airport bookstore. She didn't think she'd be needing it anymore.
It started getting dark as Steve told her the whole story. A busboy circled their table, wiping away the same stains over and over again. He not-so-subtly glared at them as the minutes ticked by and they remained rooted to their seats. An entire day and night could've passed and Jane would never know. The potential collapse of modern society as facilitated by the 'good guys' tended to do that to her.
"Jesus Christ," Jane muttered. Her red paper napkin had been reduced to a colorless wad from her twisting it.
"My sentiments exactly," said Steve. "They want to run the world through fear, and I'm helping them do it…"
"It's not like you knew," Jane said. "This isn't your fault, Steve."
"Isn't it?" his expression darkened. "I lead the counterattack. I put Romanov in a position to get those files."
"If she's as good as people say, she would've found a way with or without you." Jane laced her fingers together. "Steve, I know the world thinks you're infallible, but you're not. No one is. You can't expect that of yourself."
"I expect myself to know what I'm fighting for," he said.
"You're fighting to protect us," Jane said. "Just like you always have."
"But how can I protect a world that would rather keep everyone in a cage?" Steve lowered his voice, though there was no one around to hear. The busboy had finally given up. "That's what this is all about. It's leading through fear. When I woke up, they told me the war had ended, but are things really any better?"
"I don't know, but that's why we keep fighting," Jane said, for lack of anything better or more inspirational.
Steve smiled all the same. "Yeah, that's why we keep fighting."
Jane pulled her chair in more. "And that's why, when we know something is wrong, we speak out. We don't sit idly by and let injustice happen. Even if we fail, we have to try and do the right thing."
"You think I should push back against Project Insight."
It occurred to Jane that this whole conversation was veering into treasonous territory. If any of these waitresses were undercover agents with wires on them, they were screwed. Just one more law she'd technically broken. "I think you should do what you've always done. SHIELD can do a lot of things, but they can't stop you from being a hero."
"So push back against Project Insight." Jane glared at him, earning a chuckle. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be dragging you into this."
"Asking for advice doesn't put me on the front lines," she said, even though that wasn't remotely true and they both knew it. "It's hardly my first rodeo either, or did you forget."
"I most certainly did not," he said.
Jane grinned. "So what would you rather fight, more aliens or corrupt government officials?"
"Oh God," Steve shook his head, "twist my arm around, why don't you?"
"It could be worse, you know."
"I can't think of much worse than that."
"Yeah? Try having a reality-warping parasite leech off you and then we'll talk."
She said it like a joke, and so they laughed. They laughed like there was anything funny about that whole disastrous mess and like Jane didn't still wake up in cold sweats, reeling from dreams of Aether forcing its way down her throat, only to be expelled once more at the will of a maniacal elf.
When the moment ended, everything did. Jane's stomach felt empty, despite the meal she'd just consumed. She couldn't make a sound, swallowing every time she opened her mouth. When she looked around, all colors seemed muted. The uptempo music on the radio turned to mindless noise. It was suddenly freezing.
"Have you…" Steve licked his lips. "Are you feeling better? Since…"
Jane swallowed again. Her throat was beginning to ache. "As much as I can be. I still think about it sometimes, but you know. It's not the worst thing I've ever been through."
"And Thor?"
That was a much harder question, which really said a lot about how fucked up her priorities had become. Jane went for her coffee, but there was barely enough left to wet her tongue. She pulled the chain out of her shirt, holding Bucky's tags as the diamond ring worked its way onto her finger. She took them everywhere now. To every new country she visited and to Asgard. In the quiet moments when there was nothing for her to do, she'd sit by the window and turn them between her fingers, thinking about snow and an army base long abandoned.
Thor had never asked her about it. On some level, he seemed to already know.
"You are different," he'd said after their third attempt at a date ended with a friendly pat on the shoulder and no kiss. "Your eyes are distant. You seem older."
"It has been a few years," she replied weakly. "No one can ever stop time."
"It's more than that." Thor took her hand, his eyes intent on her. They weren't the right shade of blue. "I thought perhaps it was the Aether corrupting you, but there is a darkness within you that wasn't there when we met, one I fear I can't fix."
"I don't need you to fix me, Thor."
"But you need something I cannot provide."
Her silence was the final nail in the coffin. It went on until Thor bowed his head and promised to return if she ever needed a friend. That was six months ago. She had yet to call him.
"I tried," Jane whispered, bringing the ring to her lips. "I really did."
Steve touched her hand. "I know."
His voice cracked, thick with the pain that bonded them. Jane's throat sealed shut as a stray tear found its way down her cheek. The night wore on and closing time drew near, and yet they stayed, hands joined. Lost in a world that had left them both behind.
Jane had never been to the Smithsonian before. Years ago, Erik and her father had given a speech at the Air and Space museum to introduce a new exhibit on wormholes. Meanwhile, Jane was stuck at home with a stuffed up nose and a bowl of chicken noodle soup in her lap. That exhibit would be long gone now. She couldn't even remember its name, but she used to dream about the wonderland of space exploration hidden within those walls.
To think the day would come where she didn't want to go in.
In fact, the Natural History museum had some great new programs going. Jane read all about them in her pamphlet as they walked through the main entrance.
"They have a butterfly pavilion," she pointed it out to Steve on the map. "And there's an exhibit on animal skeletons. That might be fun."
"Maybe," Steve said, eyes far away.
"I'm just saying, we can take our time."
"Yeah, we could."
They slowed their pace, meandering at the crossroad between the Natural History Museum and the American History Museum. Steve looked over Jane's shoulders as she read off a few more exhibits. Visitors filed in and out around them, going about their days. Over the loudspeaker, the announcer welcomed them to the museum and wished them a good day. Eventually, Jane ran out of exhibits to mark with her pen and Steve ran out of things to say. They started on the path toward the Air and Space Museum.
For what it was worth, the exhibit was pretty well done.
"A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice."
"You have no idea," Jane mumbled.
She passed a display case full of wartime weapons and tracking equipment. Morita's radio had a podium to itself. That little crack in the casing from the time he dropped it was still there. His second initial was etched into the back. In another part of the room was Dernier's notebook, full of chemical measurements for his many explosives. They had it open to the first page (no need to give impressionable kids any ideas) behind a wall of bulletproof glass. Poor Dernier would be horrified to see this, but at least the world knew his handwriting was impeccable.
At the head of this exhibit, of course, was Steve. A replica of his motorcycle took center stage, drawing massive crowds hungry for stories of Captain America's exploits. Whether they were true or not didn't seem to matter. Jane overheard one guy swearing up and down that Steve once decimated an entire Nazi base with only a stick of dynamite and some rocks. That was a good one. She'd have to write it down.
On a podium in the very back was a mural dedicated to the Howling Commandos. Six mannequins had been dressed in their uniforms. Each came with a plaque stating their names, positions in the group, and a list of every medal that had ever been pinned to their jackets. Steve's was noticeably longer than the rest. Bucky's was the second-longest. The faceless figures had been specially made to fit their respective suits, but the effect wasn't right. Jane tried to imagine the Commandos, weapons out, ready to charge into battle and save the day again.
She just couldn't see it. They were too stiff.
An entire wall was dedicated to Steve's early life. His pre-serum photo was used by children as a measuring stick. Maybe one day they'd be as big and strong as their hero. Jane read his stats as the announcer continued his story.
"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world's first super soldier."
"Wait a minute," Jane said as Steve nodded at a boy who may or may not have recognized him. "Is that Gary Sinise?"
"What?" Steve asked.
Jane pointed at the ceiling. "That voice. It sounds like Gary Sinise."
"Oh," Steve pursed his lips. "Yeah, I think they mentioned that. I wasn't really paying attention honestly."
"Wow, they actually got Lieutenant Dan to tell your story."
"Lieutenant who?"
Jane snorted. "Don't tell me you haven't seen Forrest Gump."
"No," Steve said, getting out his notebook, "but I'll put it on the list."
They explored the exhibit until Jane had to use the bathroom. It took her over ten minutes to find the women's room, and by then she was ready to explode. After finishing up, she prepared herself to reenter the mob and continue her stroll down memory lane.
When she got back, a man in a black beanie was pouring over the directory. He waved at Jane. "Excuse me, miss? Do you know how I can get to the planetarium? This is kind of my first time here."
Jane smiled politely. "It's my first time, too, sorry."
"Oh, that's okay," his face changed as he glanced over Jane's shoulder. She followed his gaze and her stomach dropped as she spotted Steve near the exit, reading a blown-up newspaper headline about his rescue of the 107th. "Say, is it just me or does that guy kind of look like Steve Rogers?"
"Uh…" Jane coughed. "No, that's… that's actually my brother. But don't worry, he gets that all the time."
She left the stranger to blink confusedly after her. By now, Steve had been swallowed back into the crowd and it took her another ten minutes just to find him. Wearing a baseball all the time was a good idea in theory, but not when Jane accidentally tapped two random strangers on the shoulder trying to find him.
"Sorry, sorry," she said, shuffling away from the second non-Steve and his irate looking wife.
When she finally found him, he was viewing a group photo of the SSR. It spanned an entire wall in the middle of the exhibit. Over a hundred faces stared back at Jane, and their smiles made her chest constrict. Some of them didn't look familiar, but she knew more faces than she didn't. Their names flashed across her mind. Michael Collins, who ran the mess hall. Edward Sayers, one of the drill sergeants at Camp Lehigh. Peggy was in the bottom row flanked by Phillips and Howard. They were the hardest to look at.
"Hey," Jane said, getting Steve's attention.
His eyes flicked to her. "You should be up there."
Jane gave him a hollow smile. "You know why I can't be."
In the distance, something caught her eye. A marble slab with a TV screen showing Steve giving an interview. He wasn't alone. A single member of his team had opted to be filmed with him. Their words were muted, but their easy demeanors and laughter spoke volumes about the level of camaraderie between them. As the crowd parted, she took in the entire display. The etching of his face and the epitaph bearing his name.
"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."
It wasn't just the interview on the screen. It was a full montage of Bucky's life. Planning an attack, taking a practice shot, showing off his latest weapon. Occasionally, a clip had audio, albeit turned all the way down.
"Have you thought… win… war is over? Any plans?"
"I don't know… see my family… take my girl on a real nice trip to…"
Jane closed her eyes. She couldn't look anymore, but she couldn't turn away. She put her hand on his ice-cold face. The ring burned into her flesh as tears fell, but she didn't even think about leaving.
There was only one chair in Peggy's room, so Jane took the window.
Steve had tried to offer her the chair, or so Jane assumed. Before he got two words out, she plopped down on the window sill and started admiring the green floral curtains. They were lovely enough to adorn the windows of a decently priced motel room and apparently nursing homes as well.
Her room had a homey feel to it. On the tray table were several empty classes and a watering can for the flowers. The desk lamp was an older model that gave off soft gold light. Perfect for weaker eyes that couldn't handle LED. The nightstand was a mess of books, sewing kits, and family photos. Two children sat beside a younger Peggy, smiling for the camera. A wedding photo showed her with a man bearing a crutch. They looked at each other instead of the photographer, and in their eyes was pure love.
"You should be proud of yourself, Peggy," Steve said, staring at the photos.
Peggy hummed. "I have lived a life. My only regret is you didn't get to live yours." Steve was quiet. Too quiet for Peggy. She met Jane's eye briefly before probing him. "What is it?"
Now Steve turned to Jane. It was like they were asking her permission to have this conversation, which would be hilarious if Peggy wasn't lying in a hospital bed, gray and wrinkled and barely mobile.
She nodded, and so Steve poured his guts out to Peggy like he had last night at the diner. He didn't tell her about Project Insight (though Jane could only imagine Nick Fury's face when the arthritic retiree he once worked under came at him with a cane for putting such a stain on SHIELD's record). He kept intentionally vague even as understanding shined in Peggy's eyes.
"I thought I could throw myself back in and follow orders, serve…" he gave her a pained smile. "It's just not the same."
Peggy chuckled, shaking her head at Jane. "Do you hear him? He's always so dramatic."
"You should see the emails he sends me," Jane replied.
Steve shot her a pained look, which made her laugh along with Peggy. "Gotta do something with you two…"
They needed a moment to calm down, but even then, Peggy couldn't stop smiling. "You saved the world. We rather… mucked it up."
"You didn't," Steve said before Jane could. "Knowing that you helped found SHIELD is the reason I stay."
"To be honest, me too," said Jane, shrugging. "I've never been much for bureaucracy, but I see you in so many of those agents. All they want to do is save the world."
"You've done so much good," Steve agreed.
"But really," Jane said, folding her arms. "Cinderhouse building?"
Peggy didn't show an ounce of shame. "How could I not? It was made for you." She took Steve's hand holding it tight. Her skin was sagging and wrinkled, but her strength would never fade. "Now Steve… the world has changed. None of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is- to start o-over."
A sudden coughing fit interrupted her speech. Steve rushed to get her water, which she took without a thought. Jane hovered at the foot of her bed in case she could do anything (her two nursing classes had been good enough for the army after all). The nurse's station was just outside. If nothing else, she could get to Peggy's call light from here.
As she took sips of water, Peggy's cough subsided. She moved to put the glass away. Steve plucked it out of her hands before she dropped it on the bed. Her eyes were closed as she caught her breath, but when she looked at Jane again they widened. It put Jane immediately on guard.
"So," Peggy smiled, "you made it back."
Jane tried to nod, but couldn't manage it. Peggy turned to Steve as her face paled. Her lip quivered. She was crying. "Steve… y-you're alive!"
The only thing worse than doing it all again was Steve's broken expression. The tears he suppressed with all he had as he reunited with his best girl for the hundredth time. Jane hadn't been there for even half of them, but every time, she did the same thing. She backed out of the room, motioning at the nurses that everything was fine and they weren't needed. They always understood. This was a private moment. The best day of Peggy's life relived again and again.
Steve lived in a modest one-bedroom apartment in a nondescript building on a nondescript street. His neighbors were singles, couples, and families. All with their own lives; their own desires and problems. The ones who did notice Captain America lived on their floor had learned not to care. Nobody bothered him for autographs. His address didn't appear on any social media. The old lady two doors down brought him a box lunch on the weekends. It seemed there were still good, honest people left in the world. Or at least people who were okay with living under gag orders issued by the government.
When Jane thought about it, it was kind of the perfect cover.
They made a few more stops before heading home. Jane waited in a bookstore while Steve attended a support group for veterans. She found an art book full of 21st-century painters. Seemed like something he would like. After paying, she sat in the cafe with a cup of coffee. There was a news report running about a car accident, but she tuned it out and listened to a pair of young boys argue about Pokemon instead. By the time Steve came to get her, she was almost in a better mood.
After a quick trip to the gas station, they parked under the building in Steve's assigned spot. His room was on the top floor and Jane was grateful to find the elevator was working. All she wanted to do now was to watch TV until she fell asleep. She had no doubt Steve would be on board with her plan.
"Are you sure you're okay on the couch?" she asked as they reached his floor. "I really wouldn't mind. I don't want to keep you off your bed for a week."
"You're the guest, Jane. I'm the host," Steve replied. "I don't sleep on my bed much anyway."
"You should. It's like sleeping on a cloud."
"Or a marshmallow," he chuckled. "If you want the couch, I'll just take the floor."
"God, you are incorrigible."
"So I've heard."
As they walked down the hall, a female voice could be heard behind one of the many doors. It opened, and a blonde woman in scrubs stepped out. She had a laundry basket under her arm and a phone to her ear as she said goodbye and hang up. "My aunt," she explained when she noticed Steve watching her. "She's kind of an insomniac."
Steve nodded. "Yeah."
The woman smiled at him, but it faded a bit when she met Jane's eye."Hey, I'm Kate."
"Nice to meet you," Jane said. "I'm Jane. I'm a friend of Steve's."
She tried to emphasize 'friend' without being too obvious. Kate seemed to get the message. Her stance relaxed as Steve motioned at her laundry.
"If you want, you're welcome to my machine," he said. "Might be cheaper than the one in the basement."
"Oh yeah?" Kate raised an eyebrow. "What's it cost?"
Steve shrugged. "A cup of coffee."
"He makes great coffee," Jane stepped in.
Kate giggled. "Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs."
Jane didn't miss Steve's near disappointment, nor the tentative tone of the rest of their conversation. She kept a few inches back, hands in her pockets as she studied the numbers on the doors. They were painted gold. Very interesting.
"She seems nice," Jane said as Kate headed for the stairs.
"Don't you start," Steve hissed.
"Just saying."
"Oh," Kate said, turning around, "I think you left your music on."
They were almost at Steve's door. Smooth jazz beats pulsed from inside. It was almost inaudible. With his ears, he wouldn't need to turn the volume very far up.
"You know, I never took you for a soul kind of guy," Jane said, prodding his arm. "I always thought…"
He wasn't smiling. His eyes had sharpened and his shoulders bunched. The walls seemed closer together all of a sudden as Jane recognized him going into a defensive stance. "I didn't leave it on," he said.
Jane started to speak, but he shushed her. Taking her arm, he led her to the door and turned the knob. It was unlocked. Inside was almost completely dark, the music filtering through the air putting Jane on edge instead of calming her. There was no one around that she could see. She checked every shadow, careful not to jump. Steve barely noticed her apprehension. He was completely focused, searching for the enemy.
"Where's your shield?" Jane whispered.
"By the window," he said. "Keep your voice down."
In the living room, a man with an eyepatch sat on the couch. Dark as it was, Jane knew him right away. Nick Fury. The mastermind behind Project Insight. The same man she once argued over the phone while Coulson's men put her equipment back in exactly the wrong places.
It was strange seeing him like this. The impression Jane always had of him was a stern, unflappable schoolmaster. Stomping down the halls like a hungry giant, no one dared get in his way or say no to him. He was the kind of man even Thor would answer to. Hearing about his questionable plan for world peace only reinforced her opinion. Now he was huddled between cushions and throw pillows, far smaller in person than Jane had ever imagined.
"I don't remember giving you a key," Steve growled.
But Fury was looking at Jane, not him. "I was hoping we could talk. One on one."
"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to her."
Fury sucked on his teeth. When it was clear neither Steve nor Jane would be moved, he sighed. He stood with some difficulty. The only light came from a lamp in the corner, but it was enough to see the blood on his clothes before he shut it off.
"I'm sorry to bother you," he said. He had his phone out and typed with lightning speed. "My wife threw me out. You know how it goes."
He turned the phone around to show them. EARS EVERYWHERE. PLEASE DON'T SPEAK DR. FOSTER.
Jane swallowed. When she looked at Steve, he shushed her. She was starting to regret asking him about the shield.
Fury was writing again. "I just needed a place to stay. Was hoping you wouldn't mind." SHIELD COMPROMISED.
Correction. She really regretted it.
"Who else knows about your wife?" Steve asked, perfectly cool and collected.
"Just my friends." US THREE.
Light outside the window caught Jane's eye. It was small, a pinprick. Like a star, but too low. On the roof of the next building over, something was moving. Fluid, almost human-like motions. Jane squinted. It was so dark in here. Steve and Fury were arguing, but Jane shut them out as she studied the figure. The shape of it made no sense. A rounded top like a head, metallic limbs, four legs. Unless that second set was a stand and that one long appendage shining a light at them was…
"Steve-" Jane began, and then came the explosions.
Three bullets punched holes through the walls and through Fury. He fell. Jane screamed. Glass and wood were everywhere. Steve slammed into her, knocking her to the floor and shielding her body with his.
"Are you okay?" he asked, checking her for blood. "Are you okay?"
"Yes!" she shoved his hand away. "I'm fine. Steve, we have to move!"
He let go of her reluctantly and they carried Fury into the next room. Jane kept her head down, expecting a bullet to rip through her at any moment. Her ears were ringing, blocking out Fury's groans of pain and the music still playing. When they were safe behind another wall, she grabbed a towel and pressed it to the largest of his wounds. There were so many more she couldn't reach and he wouldn't stop moving.
"Don't… trust… anyone," he wheezed, pushing a flash drive into Steve's hands.
The front door burst open. In came Kate with her pink scrubs and a gun. "Captain Rogers?"
"Kate?" Steve answered. He looked woozy.
"Captain, I'm Agent 13 with SHIELD Special Service. I've been assigned to protect you."
"On whose orders?"
Kate, or whatever her name was, crumpled when she saw Fury. "His…"
"This just keeps getting better," Jane muttered as Agent 13 kneeled beside her.
She checked Fury's pulse as she whipped out a walkie talkie. "This is Agent 13. Foxtrot is down and unresponsive. I need EMTs here now."
The person on the other end asked about the shooter. Jane motioned at Steve and mouthed, 'window.' Steve looked. His eyes narrowed. "Tell them I'm in pursuit."
He grabbed his shield. Jane knew exactly what he was going to do and then he did it. Shattering the window, he rocketed into the next building, running at top speed and taking out everything in his path.
"You should stay here," Agent 13 said.
It was then that Jane realized she was almost on her feet, stuck in a half-squatting position as Fury twitched under her hands. Agent 13 was right. The smart thing to do would be to stay right where she was. Wait for Steve to catch the bad guy and save the day again. It was better than getting shot at or invaded by an omnipotent cosmic force.
Weird how the mind could think one thing while the body did another. "I'm going to watch for the EMT. I'll be back."
"Or you'll get killed," Agent 13 said. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Yeah, probably." Jane started for the door.
Agent 13 shook her head. "Wow. You know, you remind me of someone."
There wasn't any good way to respond to that and Jane wouldn't care if there was. "Just keep putting pressure on the wounds. It's going to be fine."
She didn't know why she thought a hardened secret agent needed reassurance. Maybe that was just her. The hall grew longer as she started running. It took her forever to reach the stairs and she was halfway to the lobby when she remembered the elevators.
"What are you doing?" she asked herself. "What the hell do you think you are doing, you stupid trouble magnet, you?"
'Wanting to help?' her inner voice suggested. 'Looking for clues to the bug within SHIELD? Not wanting to be around a dying person again? Take your pick.'
Jane made it outside in time to hear the sirens. They were still far off, but getting closer. Several stories above, walls collapsed and doors splintered as Steve continued his pursuit of the shooter. No one else was outside yet. They would be soon.
Weary of the empty street, she backed up against the building, looking around for a second gunman. She couldn't hear Steve anymore. If there was a fight, it was too far away and the sirens were blocking it out. Red and blue lights reflected on the buildings down the street. It would be over soon. She had to keep telling herself that. It would be over soon.
Something landed in the alley. Jane whipped around, arms covering her face. As a shadow rose from the mist and took on human form, her blood stopped flowing. It wasn't Steve walking with purpose toward her. She wasn't sure if it was a man at all. Garbed in black with wild brown hair around his half-masked face. Cobalt eyes caked in charcoal. His left arm was wrapped in silver, but it shifted and whined like gears in an automaton.
Jane stepped back, her neck grew stiff as she craned her head up. He was enormous, if not in body then in presence. The closer he got, the surer Jane was that these would be her final moments. She was a witness, an unexpected complication. Whoever had sent him wouldn't bat an eye if someone got caught in the crossfire. She couldn't even run. He'd catch her. Kill her slower.
Everything about him from his size to his gait to those intense blue eyes screamed predator. Death.
And then he walked… past her.
He was behind her, still walking. He didn't stop. No gun was drawn or knife was thrown. His heavy footsteps disappeared as the ambulance tore down the street and raced for Steve's building.
Some of Steve's neighbors poked their heads out their windows, demanding an end to the noise. Jane heard them as if through glass. Her muscles relaxed and her bones untwisted. It left her painfully aware of her own weight as her knees buckled. She hit the ground hard but didn't feel pain. Her head spun as she rolled on her side and ripped a hole in her jeans. The flashing lights blinded her, but she couldn't move. There she sat, clutching her ring like a protective charm and staring into the alley.
He was already gone.