Six weeks.
It had been three weeks of living at the compound. The longest she'd lived anywhere, except - no. That doesn't count. She didn't live there, she was kept there.
In the time since her imprisonment, she'd flitted from place to place, from life to life. Being a quick learner, she slipped into different places almost seamlessly. Her first stint in the real world had been in Siberia, not exactly an ideal place to be. She'd traveled across Europe by train-hopping, stowing away, and hitch-hiking before eventually settling in Austria.
Her mistake was being a little too reckless with her abilities. Though she'd gone relatively unnoticed at first, it was difficult to make it anywhere without money. That's when she started doing what she did best…fighting. A few underground fights, cash payout. It was a cakewalk. Through a few connections she made in the seedy world of street fighting, she moved up. People wanted to bet on her, knowing they'd win. It fast-tracked her to bigger fights, higher winnings. She'd even given thought to making that her new life, it was something she knew and something she was good at. Something she was made for.
Until she saw the most beautiful, elegant thing she'd ever witnessed. In her studio apartment, rented for her by the man who'd been making a shitload of money off of her fighting, she sat surfing through channels just like every other night. On the screen, a strong, graceful girl hurtled through the air, landing perfectly on a blue mat. It was the first time she'd ever seen gymnastics. Charlotte couldn't tear her eyes away.
The next morning, she'd packed her limited belongings in a bag and headed for the train station. The man called her 27 times when he realized she'd left. At least, that's how many she counted before she threw the phone out a train window.
In less than a week, she'd learned everything she could about the gymnastics world, including the fact that the National Championship meet was being held in two weeks in Boston. With no ID, no passport, and no real identity at all - flying internationally wasn't an option. However, when a cruise ship acrobat had suddenly received an urgent call from her ailing mother and fled to attend to her, Charlotte was there ready to step in. Her "audition" was enough for them to offer her a permanent contract performing on the ship. Politely declining, her only goal was to get to the United States. After ten days of performing for sunburnt tourists on the ship, they docked in the Port of Boston with just enough time to spare.
Knowing she'd need to incentivize the powers that be to allow her to participate in such a prestigious meet as a nobody, she went back to the drawing board. While thinking of how to come into a large sum of cash in less than four days, she overheard a group of Harvard students talking about how they didn't know how they would ever pass the BAR exam that weekend. In less than 72 hours, she walked out of the last exam with twenty thousand dollars cash in her bag. Four students, desperate and wealthy, had jumped at her offer to take their exams for five grand each. All it took was a night of leafing through their textbooks with a box of takeout in her lap to have it all memorized.
With one day left until the meet, she bought the most beautiful leotard she could find. All black, one long sleeve, beautiful jeweled detailing. She watched footage of old Olympic meets, NCAA gymnasts getting perfect scores, anything she could find online. On the day of the championships, she stood waiting by the front door long before sunrise for the first judge to show up. She offered him ten thousand dollars cash to put her name on the roster for the day. He immediately accepted, leaving Charlotte pleasantly surprised. She'd been prepared to offer the full twenty.
The rest is history. She competed last, swept the meet with perfect scores in every event. Her name was in headlines across the country by the next day, even making it on ESPN. For a little while, she thought she could have her dream life after all. Thought her abilities could do more than the violence she was bred for. It was beautiful, but it was fleeting. Just before the conclusion of Olympic Trials, she was framed for using performance enhancing drugs and kicked out without ever even being drug tested. She knew gymnastics was a very political sport, and if she could bribe her way in, it was only feasible that someone else could have bribed her out.
So she went back to fighting. This time in Vegas. After a few months of that, her penthouse suite rented indefinitely with three additional safes full of cash, she decided to switch to gambling. Poker and blackjack were her favorites. She'd managed to keep that going for a few weeks before casinos started to pick up on it, not knowing how seriously they took card counting. In her naive newness to the modern world, she thought that winning would be allowed and rewarded. It wasn't the case. Not in the casino, not in gymnastics. The second someone caught wind of her unfair advantage, even when they couldn't begin to explain it, she was kicked out. So her life became a run from one ruse to the next, catapulting to the top of whatever she tried and then forcing herself to abandon it as soon as eyebrows started to raise.
Until Nat showed up and finally gave her a chance to stop running.
And that was six weeks ago.
After breaking her conditioning, she'd found a loose routine. One that didn't involve lying about who she was or figuring out how to conceal all the cash she had without so much as a drivers' license to open a bank account. These days were good. She'd wake up early with the team, following a different member each day. Since she didn't really have a role of her own, she helped out where she could. Sometimes watching and assisting Tony in his lab, sometimes watching Steve train the SHIELD agents. Everyone had something to do, a role here. Except Charlotte. Up until now, it didn't really bother her. She liked the freedom to drift around the compound, not looking over her shoulder. After about a month, however, she was beginning to feel restless.
Which is why she asked to train with the SHIELD agents two weeks ago.
"I thought you didn't want to be an Avenger?" Nat had raised her eyebrow.
"I don't," Charlotte protested. "But I'm…bored, I guess. I don't have anything to do here. I feel like I'm in the way. If I can train with them, at least I'll be prepared, you know…if anything happens and you do need me."
"Something tells me you're already more prepared than even our veteran agents."
"Please, Nat, I need to do something." Her eyes were desperate.
"I'll talk to Steve."
The next week, she'd begun training. Alternating between hand to hand combat, weapons' training, and intelligence tactics, Charlotte was in Heaven. There was a schedule, a routine, and always more to learn. Although not all of the agents felt the warm fuzzies about having her there. The team had chosen to limit the amount of information given on Charlotte for her own privacy, but her performance had left people with suspicions.
"Fuck me." Agent Bronson mumbled under his breath, stepping forward when his name was called.
Steve frowned. "What was that?"
"Nothing." He ran a hand through his hair as he climbed into the sparring ring with Charlotte. "Let's get this over with." A few of the other agents snickered from the sidelines, relieved their name wasn't called to be her partner.
"Don't sound so enthusiastic." Charlotte rolled her eyes.
"Come on, Rossi, we both know how this is gonna go. Just try to leave me a shred of my masculinity this time."
"I'll see what I can do." She smirked, feet set in a defensive stance. As soon as Agent Bronson began to raise his fists, her eyes tracked every miniscule movement he made. The way his eyes flicked to her feet, debating a leg sweep to take her down. The muscle that tensed in his neck when he prepared to throw a punch. In fractions of a second, her mind cataloged his fighting style, instinctively reacting to dodge and duck all of his attempts.
Eight, nine…She counted each of the blows that whipped past her. Steve had scolded her at the end of the past week, telling her that if she was going to train with the agents, she had to at least try to stay on their level. She told him she'd give each agent a ten swing head start before she went on the offensive. Ten.
When his boot swung over her head, Charlotte dropped to the ground, swinging her leg to knock his planted one out from underneath him. His back smacked the mat, making the spectating agents wince. From her crouched position, she interlocked her legs with his, flipping both of their bodies with the momentum. Agent Bronson was flat on his face before he even knew what happened. In another half second, Charlotte had his arms locked behind his back with her knees driving his shoulders down.
"Fuck." His voice was muffled as his face pressed into the mat.
"Alright, let him up." Steve stepped in. Charlotte climbed off, extending a hand to help him up.
"I tried to make it quick and painless." She grinned, whispering in his ear as he stood.
"Much appreciated." He grumbled. Of all the agents, Derek Bronson had been one of the more welcoming ones. He had some security from being one of the top performers, but still fell short when it came to Charlotte.
"Okay, team, what can Agent Bronson improve in his hand-to-hand?" Steve looked over the group, waiting for a response. The agents exchanged glances, shuffling their feet. "Anyone?"
No one spoke up for fear of being assigned to spar with Charlotte next, to demonstrate what they thought they could do better. After a few moments of awkward silence, Steve spoke again. "Alright, let's wrap it up. We'll resume on Monday. Good work today, agents." He patted Agent Bronson on the back. "You're a good sport."
As the agents filed out of the training room, Charlotte took her time gathering her things. She knew she wouldn't be invited to wherever the group of agents chose to get dinner and happy hour drinks outside the compound, so she preferred not to see them make the plans at all.
"You bored yet?" Steve crossed his arms and smiled.
"Do I look bored?"
"You looked bored the second day you got here."
She laughed. "I'm not, actually. I really enjoy it. I could do this all day." She winked, using Cap's favorite line against him.
"I know you can, that's the problem. Why don't you train with us?" He held his hands up defensively. "Just train, that's all. You don't have to go off base, but it would be a little more of a challenge than this."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, thinking. "I'll try it out. But don't get mad at me when you end up like Bronson."
This time, it was Steve who laughed. "I'm a decent sport, too."
The next morning, Charlotte and Bucky jogged around the lake, having lost track of their laps an hour ago.
"Good God, do you ever get tired?" He groaned as she ran past the trail that lead back to the compound, beginning another lap.
"Eventually." She smirked over her shoulder. "Keep up, old man."
He caught back up to her, throwing a dirty look. "We're the same age."
"Semantics."
"Alright, one more mile and I'm calling it. I want to do more with my day than run in circles."
Charlotte shot him a mischievous look. "Race ya."
They took off running back into the woods.
The training room of the Avengers Compound buzzed with anticipation as Charlotte stepped into the ring, her eyes focused, albeit a little arrogant. Though the buzz of her first session with the Avengers' had made its way around the compound, they elected to keep it a closed session. The group of them was clad in their black training uniforms, meant to mimic the weight and feel of their combat suits. Since Charlotte didn't have her own yet, she wore another of Natasha's. Each suit was specially engineered for the one who wore it, meant to accommodate their specific skill set. Nat's was thinner, lightweight and flexible. Sam's was double lined to keep him warm in high altitudes. Bucky's suit had a cutout for his left arm, allowing full range of motion for the prosthetic.
Sam, with his usual charismatic grin, stepped into the ring first. "I'll take it easy on you, alright?" he held the ropes open, allowing her to step in.
"I wouldn't." Charlotte replied, her eyes glinting with challenge.
The spar commenced. Sam lunged forward, his wings extending to give him an advantage in reach. But before he could react, Charlotte sidestepped, her movements fluid. With a swift motion, she dropped to her knees and slid beneath the reach of his rings, grabbed his arm and twisted, putting him in a painful bind that dropped him to his knees.
"Damn girl," Sam breathed, his eyes wide with surprise.
"T'was a pleasure," Charlotte replied, releasing him and mock curtseying, barely out of breath at all.
Next up the Black Widow herself. She stepped in the ring with an air of confidence, her eyes sharp and assessing. She must have noticed how Charlotte balked, not wanting to overstep on her first friend, the reason she was here in the first place. "Don't you dare take it easy on me," Natasha reprimanded.
"If you say so." Charlotte gave a small smile, preparing for action. Faster than Sam, Nat put her weight back on her left foot, aiming a kick at Charlotte's midsection.
Charlotte spun to her right, evading the kick. Nat was already striking again, punching across her body. Charlotte blocked, dropping her elbow in the crook of Nat's arm, bending it and bringing them within inches of each other. Both women moving at once, their legs interlocked in the same takedown attempt. They rolled once on the floor, a blur of black neoprene.
While Natasha was one of the most skilled Avengers in hand-to-hand combat, Charlotte was stronger, pinning the redhead down as they came to a stop. She held her forearm to Nat's throat, knees pinning her arms down.
"Impressive," she croaked, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. Charlotte stood and helped Nat to her feet.
"Right back at you." Charlotte's chest rose and fell, breathing hard.
Then came Peter Parker, all enthusiasm and boyish charm. "You ready for this?" he asked, a grin on his face.
"Are you?" Charlotte replied, smirking.
Attempting to go for the element of surprise, Peter shot a web at her feet, aiming to immobilize her. Having seen his tell, a clenched jaw and eye flick to the place he wanted to shoot the webs, she knew it was coming. Somersaulting forward, she rolled over the web blast and closed the distance between them. Without rising back off the ground, she delivered a swift kick to the back of his legs, buckling them and dropping him to his knees. As soon as he fell, she wrapped her arm around his neck from behind, pulling him onto his back on top of her. Each of her legs hooked around his arms, pinning them to the ground so he was at an impossible angle to web her. He froze, momentarily stunned.
"You're so fast," Peter breathed, eyes wide.
"So I've been told." She untangled her legs from his arms and he climbed to his feet, offering her a hand.
Finally, it was Steve's turn, the one who'd convinced her to do this in the first place. "A little more fun than the agents?" he joked.
"I guess you could say that." Charlotte tensed, knowing he would be the toughest of the three prior.
The spar was intense, each blow whistling through the air as she dodged it, power oozing from his every movement. Charlotte anticipated Steve's moves with uncanny accuracy, her eyes keenly observant of his every shift in stance. Steve, in turn, pushed her limits, testing her stamina as the clock ticked on. His style was classic, controlled. He relied on speed and strength more than exceptional skill or strategy.
The round went on longer than the previous three combined, Charlotte getting Steve in a near-pinned position three times, but unable to overpower him enough to keep him down.
This time, she took a different approach. Steve swung with a hard right hook, and instead of dodging what she knew was coming, she stood her ground and took it. His fist collided with her jaw, blood immediately bursting from her split lip. Her head snapped to the side, but she didn't lose her footing.
"Oh, my God, Charlotte, are you okay?" Steve broke his defensive posture, eyes full of guilt.
Exactly the reaction she wanted.
In two moves, she swung her leg up, momentum carrying her into the air. Her legs wrapped around his neck and she twisted, throwing him to the ground. He landed flat on his back with a resounding thud, her shin pressed to his neck.
"You're good," Steve admitted, a grin tugging at his lips. "Although some may say that's cheating."
"All's fair in love and war," Charlotte replied, blood dripping off of her face from the busted lip.
The other Avengers, watching with keen interest, broke into applause, their admiration evident. Nat cheered the loudest, recognizing her signature move in the final takedown.
Bucky stepped forward and approached the ring, offering Charlotte a towel for her bloody face. "That looks like hell."
"But kinda badass, right?" She smiled, showing her blood-stained teeth.
"Something like that."
Charlotte, slightly breathless but clearly exhilarated, wiped her face and stood to face Natasha, waiting to give her kudos.
Bucky turned to Steve with a sly grin, clearly amused. "Well, well, Steve," he teased, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Losing to a girl half your size. What would Coach Tyler say?"
Steve gave an incredulous look. "Our high school wrestling coach, really?" He rolled his eyes. "Why don't you give it a shot, Buck? Let's see how you fare against that girl that's also half your size." He raised his voice at the end, baiting Charlotte.
Bucky cracked his knuckles, his metal arm glinting under the training room lights. He stepped into the ring, eyeing Charlotte with a playful glint in his eyes. "Hope you're ready for this, sweetheart," he said, his tone mockingly confident.
Charlotte met his challenge with a smirk, her confidence unwavering. "I don't know if you've forgotten, Barnes, but I was made for this."
He grimaced ever so slightly, still not used to the flippant way she spoke about her tortuous past. The team had heard more about HYDRA in her six weeks at the compound than in Bucky's five years. Clearly she coped with trauma differently than he did.
The two circled each other in the ring, the air crackling with anticipation. Eyes locked on each other, Charlotte raised an eyebrow and licked blood off her lips. Bucky lunged forward, his movements swift and controlled. Charlotte dodged his advances with ease, her lithe form moving as fast as his fists. She countered his strikes, her blows precise and calculated, although they didn't seem to phase him in the slightest. Their movements were lightning fast, the spectating Avengers' having trouble tracking the action. It was clear neither of them held back the challenge too tantalizing to back down from. The two didn't spend a ton of time together outside of group settings, save for the occasional run, but they seemed to get along well. Their shared sense of grim humor was the catalyst for most interactions.
Bucky tried to catch her off guard, but Charlotte anticipated his every move. He advanced on her, swinging with near lethal force. She executed a series of back handsprings, narrowly avoiding his attacks. The ring seemed to blur with her swift movements, a small nod to her brief stint in the gymnastics world.
"Show-off," Bucky remarked, his admiration evident.
Charlotte grinned. "Impressed?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
Their spar escalated, each move met with a countermove. Bucky utilized his strength, attempting to overpower her, but Charlotte danced around him, always one step ahead. She was incredibly light on her feet, her agility allowing her to evade his strikes effortlessly. Where he was strong and intense, she was quick and fleeting. She landed more blows, but they barely even registered. He swung harder, but she stayed out of reach.
After almost twenty minutes of intense combat, both combatants found themselves in a deadlock, neither of them able to budge. Flat on his back, Bucky's arm stuck up in the air, his metal hand wrapped around Charlotte's throat. She perched above his chest, one shin pressed into his throat, the other leg braced on the ground, giving her leverage to push down harder. Their breathing became ragged as neither one conceded, fighting for oxygen as they continued to right each other.
"Should we -" Steve murmured to Natasha, brows knit together.
"Let's see how this plays out." She narrowed her eyes. "Worst case, they both pass out."
Steve frowned but said nothing.
In the ring, Charlotte tasted the salt of sweat mixed with the lingering metallic taste of blood. She grit her teeth and drove her shin further down onto Bucky's throat. He grunted but didn't concede, gripping her throat tighter. Sweat had caused a few strands of his dark hair to stick to his forehead.
The corners of her vision were beginning to go dark, the sounds of the training room sounding like they were fading away. Charlotte saw the blood vessels in Bucky's eyes reddening and knew he wasn't far behind her. Their eyes locked, a battle of wills and stubborn pride. Bucky felt her wobble ever so slightly and made a snap decision.
"Truce?" He croaked. She paused, ever so slightly, debating if she could somehow spin this into a fifth victory of the day before her lack of oxygen overruled.
"Truce." Her voice was barely more than a whisper through the vice grip he had on her neck. They paused for a second longer, eyes narrow, as if neither one of them trusted the other. Finally, they both released their grip, Charlotte tumbling to the mat beside him. Both chests heaved, their senses flooding back as their oxygen was no longer restricted.
Charlotte looked to her right and grinned. "You called a truce."
Bucky, still flat on his back beside her, narrowed his eyes. "I'd feel bad choking out the new girl the first time we sparred."
"Whatever stops the tears." She winked.
The other Avengers applauded, climbing into the ring with them. Natasha and Steve pulled them to their feet. "Just when we thought no one was more stubborn than you, Barnes."
Bucky chuckled, shooting a glance at Charlotte. "She's tougher than she looks."
"Wish I could say the same for you." She raised her eyebrows, eyes fiery. His eyes scanned her face, amused. Just like in the hospital room over a month ago, she swore she saw his eyes flick to her lips for just a split second.
The team's enthusiasm drowned out their banter, equal parts shit-talking and compliments flying. Someone handed her a bag of ice for her chin. One one side, Peter was asking her to teach him a back handspring and on the other, Sam was mimicking her doe-eyed look to Steve right after he socked her. All of it was good-natured, all of it was warm. Even with the throbbing in her jaw and pounding in her head from almost passing out, she was happy.
So much better than the goddamn SHIELD agents.