"We need aerial pickup in the woods outside the generator, my coordinates. Get medical ready, tell them we have an incoming Avenger."
Her eyes flicked up to Bucky at the last word, surprise lighting them up. His face was a standard mask of annoyance mixed with…was that relief? Blue eyes trailed over her body before meeting hers once again. He regarded her for a moment before speaking again.
"So when were you gonna tell me you learned to fly a Quinjet?"
Typical. He does something heroic and chivalrous, but still has the same attitude problem. Some knight in shining armor. "I was waiting t'see if y'brought me a souvenir," She croaked through her raw, burning throat.
As the smoke from the explosion began to clear, Charlotte's ears were still ringing from the deafening blast. She blinked, trying to regain her bearings as she looked around to assess the damage. Tears streaked through the dirt on her cheeks as her eyes burned, her whole body buzzing at how close she'd come to the end. She'd tried to stand a few moments ago, but nearly vomited at the pain in her ribs. Now seated against the base of a tree, she could feel the pain beginning to cloud her mind as the adrenaline wore off.
"Charlotte, hey, stay with me," Bucky's voice cut through the haze of confusion, filled with concern as he knelt in front of her. "Medical is almost here."
Groaning, she sat up a little straighter. "Th'shouldn't come outside the shield," she paused to cough. "S'too smokey and there could be another detonation. We need t'move."
Bucky regarded her grimly, eyebrows raised, but didn't argue. "Okay. C'mon." He helped Charlotte to her feet, his arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her as she stumbled slightly. She favored her left leg, still peppered with glass from the windshield, putting her arm over his shoulders for stability.
"That was quite the entrance," Charlotte groaned, her voice shaky as she leaned into Bucky's firm grip. "B'you could have stuck the landing a little better."
Bucky offered her a small smile that didn't meet his eyes, shouldering the majority of her weight as they began to traipse through the shrapnel-littered woods. The pain must be bad if she was cracking jokes, begging for a distraction.
"Y'could have shown up a little sooner, too." She forced out between shallow breaths.
"We stopped for burgers halfway," He humored her. "You seemed like you had it handled." He didn't mention the way they'd been white-knuckled the whole flight back, nearly silent as they prayed they'd make it in time. The way he'd paced the floor, ready to rip the enemy aircraft apart with his bare hands when he finally got to it. The way he heard those words and was ready to throw himself out of the Quinjet just to get to her. She's not gonna make it.
"D'you bring me one?" Her weight was getting heavier on his shoulder.
"Yeah. Yeah, we did." Bucky hoisted her arm higher around his neck, taking more weight off of her leg. "Hope you like mustard."
As they finally approached the edge of the shield, they were greeted by the sight of a medical cart waiting to transport them back to the safety of the compound. The first rays of dawn were beginning to lighten up the inky sky, breaking up the darkness. When they reached the cart, Charlotte eased herself into the flatbed of the cart with Bucky's assistance, taking a slow breath as she leaned against the edge. Hopping in behind her, Bucky patted the hull of the cart, signaling that they were ready to go.
The journey back to the main building was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the cart's engine and Charlotte's occasional sharp breaths when they hit a particularly large bump. Bucky didn't speak, but his eyes clocked every wince, every muscle tensing in her jaw. He glanced up ahead, seeing the compound buildings beginning to come into view.
As Charlotte sat in the medical cart, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut as the adrenaline that had fueled her during the attack was nearly gone, leaving her feeling drained and emotionally couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief at the suddenness of the attack, the way it had shattered the peace and security of the compound in an instant. It was a stark reminder of the ever-present threat posed by HYDRA, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when least expected. She'd allowed herself to get comfortable, to live in the delusion that there was a life after them. That they'd one day stop looking for her and let her go free.
That delusion had brought one of the world's most dangerous organization to the doorstep of the only people who had offered her a home. A family.
The thought of losing any of them was almost too much to bear, a prospect she couldn't even begin to contemplate. To think that it might have been her fault, her presence that lured them here…she couldn't even let herself finish the thought.
Rounding the final corner and emerging from the treeline, the hangar and main building grew nearer. With them, the crowd of people gathered in front, clapping and cheering. The sound made Charlotte open her eyes. Standing outside the SHIELD headquarters were the two dozen agents who'd been there through the attack, had been under her assumed command. At the front of the crowd stood Calla, clapping furiously with tears in her eyes. Beside her, still in full battle gear, was Sam, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Peter. All of them looking beautifully clean and unscathed. All of them cheering. Charlotte felt a wave of relief wash over her, finally accepting that it was over. The cart jolted to a stop, whistles and applause filling her ears. There was a knot in her stomach that she wasn't ready to address yet, a maelstrom of emotions clawing through her, demanding to be felt. Instead, she focused on the physical feelings. People patting her shoulder, squeezing her hands, sliding under her knees and lifting her out of the cart.
Opening her eyes, Charlotte saw dozens of faces beaming at her. Calla was holding one of her hands, the other was draped around the shoulder of whoever was carrying her. The feeling of vibranium under her knees told her all she needed to know. As Bucky walked through the crowd, they eagerly parted to let her through, the cheers never ceasing. The doors to the medical wing slid open with a whoosh, cool air conditioning wafting over them in contrast to the spring humidity.
In the distance, she could hear Natasha's voice telling the agents to give her some space, before Steve thanked them for their bravery and asked them to give their statements to Intelligence before heading home for the end of their shift. There was a hallway, a turn, and then she was being gently set down on the all-too-familiar medical bed.
"From what I hear, we just need to put your name on the door," Calla quipped, washing her hands in the corner.
Charlotte mustered a chuckle, but anything beyond that threatened to set her throat on fire.
"Okay, let's get you cleaned up. What hurts the most?" Her eyes raked over Charlotte, fingers assessing each wound. Angling her leg, Charlotte nodded to the shards of glass protruding like spikes all down the side. Calla masked her concern like a true professional. "That seems like a good place to start."
She pulled a stool beneath her and slid her hands into a pair of gloves as Maddie, the lab tech, wheeled in a tray of first aid supplies. "Sargeant, would you mind lending a hand?" Calla looked expectantly up at Bucky.
"Yeah, uh, sure." He cleared his throat and stepped toward the bed.
"Grab those scissors in the top drawer," She nodded her head to the counter behind Bucky, shining a small flashlight in Charlotte's eyes. He obliged, crossing the room to stand beside the bed. "Thank you. I need you to cut the left leg out of Ms. Rossi's suit."
"You, wait, what?" Bucky looked incredulous.
"I can't effectively clean and stitch her up with the suit on, and I can't take it off while Ms. Rossi still has glass sticking out of her leg. If I pull the glass out before taking the suit off, she'll lose even more blood." Her tone was calm but firm as she continued to work, cleaning a wound on Charlotte's forehead. "So in order to get her taken care of and out of pain as quickly as possible, I need you to take those scissors, cut up the center of her suit, and get me access to the wounds."
He stood, frozen, beside her bed.
"Now, Sargent."
With that, he sprung into action. Setting the scissors down at the foot of her bed, nimble fingers unlaced her boots, gently removing them and tossing them to the side. They landed on the floor with a solid thump. Cold metal touched her ankle as he lifted the hem of her suit away from her skin and slid one scissor blade beneath it. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he carefully but quickly cut a line up the top of her leg. As he worked, Maddie tugged the fabric over the glass on the side, freeing the wounds. Once the scissors had reached her thigh, Bucky stopped.
"Good," Calla pointed. "Now bring the cut around the outside of her thigh so we can peel the fabric back all the way."
Charlotte could have sworn he flushed, but he did what he was told. Calla pulled the flap of fabric to the side, revealing a mangled mess of her leg. Blood, old and new, caked her skin and dozens of large pieces of glass stuck out the side, running from her ankle nearly to her hip.
"Sargant, one more thing. Could you hand me that towel?" Calla's tone was warm and calm, smiling as Bucky dropped it into her hand. Offering it to Charlotte, she gave a clear instruction. "Bite down."
Bringing the towel to her mouth, Charlotte didn't have time to question before Maddie dumped a copious amount of antiseptic onto her leg, setting her whole body on fire. She bit into the towel so hard her jaw ached, a muffled scream filling the room and setting her throat ablaze. Out of the corner of her watery eyes, she swore she saw Bucky wince. The wave of pain caused sweat to bead across her forehead, her leg throbbing. They made every effort to work quickly, but that did little to quell the agony.
Forcing herself to breathe through her nose, Charlotte clenched her eyes shut, telling herself all the same things she had in the past. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. It'll be over in a minute. Pain is just my body telling me something is wrong, and I already know something is wrong. I don't need the pain. I don't feel the pain. I don't feel th-
"Oh, shit," Sam's voice called from the doorway, pulling Calla's eyes up to his for just a split second as she dropped a particularly large shard of glass onto the tray beside her. Steve and Nat pushed into the room, taking in the scene. Charlotte on the bed, eyes closed and sweat dripping as she bit down onto a towel. Calla and Maddie furiously working on her gruesome left leg, one set of hands carefully extracting shrapnel while the other cleaned and stitched the wounds left behind. Bucky standing beside the bed, hands behind his head and a grim look on his face. His helpless eyes met Steve's and a look passed between them. Guilt? Understanding? Their unspoken conversation was interrupted by Natasha slid a chair bedside, gripping Charlotte's right hand as her eyes flicked open. They were red from all the smoke, but alert.
"Hell of a showing back there," Nat gave a reassuring grin, squeezing her hand. Charlotte groaned, rolling her eyes.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you might be born for this 'saving the world' gig after all."
Charlotte shot her a sidelong look, narrowing her eyes. Raising her hands defensively, Nat joked, "Listen, all I'm saying is it took Sam years to learn to fly a Quinjet and Bucky still refuses to use comms correctly. You've got 'em both beat."
"Hey," Bucky frowned at her.
"Am I wrong?"
Nat's attempts to distract everyone from the tense situation were effective. Calla and Maddie had worked their way up Charlotte's leg, staunching the bleeding and leaving a web of dark stitching and angry red cuts in their wake. As Maddie tied off the final stitch, Calla tugged her gloves off with a snap. "Alright, looks like we salvaged the leg." She winked at Charlotte. "Let's take a look at those ribs."
Attempting to prop herself up on her elbows, Charlotte winced, eyes squeezing shut. Several pairs of hands reached out to support her, Nat being the first to reach her thanks to her proximity.
"Woah, take it easy," Calla braced her other arm. "Gentlemen, give us a minute?" She nodded to the door, with Steve, Sam, and Bucky filing out obediently. When the door was shut behind them, she returned her gaze to Charlotte. "Is it alright if we go ahead and remove the suit? We'll put a medical gown on you, I know how much you love those."
Charlotte scoffed but held her arms out long, granting them permission to tug the sleeves off. With the three sets of gentle female hands and a few more slices from the scissors, her suit lay in a stained and crumbled heap on the floor. For the next fifteen minutes, they set to work cleaning her various cuts and abrasions while Nat held her hand. Charlotte closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pillow, the exhaustion catching up with her. She had a difficult time processing all that had happened in the span of a week. The team leaving for their mission, her outburst with the agents, meeting Calla and finding out the bombshell about her relationship with Sam, learning to fly a Quinjet, the attack in the dead of night, almost being blown up, being rescued by Bucky…again, the heroes reception she'd received when they returned. It was too much for her muddled brain to process at the moment.
"Alright, Char, you're as good as new. Or at least you will be in a few days." Calla squeezed her arm. "Thanks, Maddie, you're good to go back home. Thanks for coming in on such short notice. Take the rest of the day off. Oh, and tell the guys they're good to come back in."
"Thanks, Maddie." Charlotte's strained voice called after her.
"No problem." Maddie smiled. "I hope I don't see you again anytime soon."
Laughing into a cough, Charlotte adjusted her position against the pillow, the white medical gown just as unflattering as always. Chairs squeaked across the floor as all three men rejoined them and took a position around the bed, looking at her expectantly.
"Good morning," She raised an eyebrow.
"Good morning." Steve chucked. "How do you feel?"
"How do I look?"
"Like you just about got blown up," Sam teased.
"Yeah, not the best way to get blown." She yawned, ignoring Steve's choked laugh and Bucky's raised eyebrow. "But you should see the other guy."
"I don't think there's much left to see." Nat chimed in.
"Guess that means I did my job."
"You did great, Charlotte." Steve's tone was warm, reassuring. The atmosphere thickened as smiles faded in favor of a more serious tone. "If you hadn't been here, hadn't acted when you did…things would have turned out much differently. Thank you."
"Yeah, I've grown pretty fond of this place." Natasha squeezed her hand. "Thank you for protecting it."
"This place," Sam stood and crossed the room to stand by Calla, still typing notes into her computer. "And the people inside it. I owe you one."
Charlotte smiled. "No, you don't. I'm pretty fond of it too. The place and the people." She winked at Calla.
"Sam, something you'd like to tell us?" Steve raised an eyebrow at Sam's arm draped around Calla's shoulders.
Chuckling, he met Calla's eyes. "Guys, this is Dr. Calla Arturo. My fiance."
Bucky let out a whistle as Steve grinned and stood to hug Sam. Nat simply picked at her nails, winking at the couple, another secret well kept.
"I'm sorry, we have a lot to catch up on, it sounds like. Can someone order breakfast? With coffee?" Charlotte pleaded. "Lots of coffee?"
"Coming right up." Nat popped up and strode out of the room to make the order.
Half an hour later, feet still clad in combat boots were propped on the edge of Charlotte's bed, the smell of coffee filling the air. A cart sat full of discarded, empty dishes near the door. The food was all but devoured the minute it was wheeled into the room. Now that everyone had given up on going back to sleep as the morning stretched on, Calla made a round, refilling everyone's coffee before taking a seat beside Sam.
"So we get to the source of the tremors, and we find nothing. Nada. Zip. It's a complete ghost town," Sam explained. "At first, we thought maybe they took everything underground, or it was cloaked somehow. We ran every scan possible, combed through the whole one hundred mile radius. We found nothing. So we camped out overnight, figured we'd do the same thing the next day."
"We reviewed the initial reports of seismic activity, and sure enough, we were at the exact coordinates." Nat shrugged. "It seemed like a fluke, somehow the coordinates got skewed. We were positive we missed something, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then…"
"We got the distress signal from SHIELD." Bucky met Charlotte's eyes. "The signal that the compound was under attack."
"That was when we knew it was a decoy." Steve's eyes looked pained. "We knew it was an attempt to lure us away, leave it vulnerable. The furthest point away without going off-planet. We were just lucky it wasn't a trap."
"So we got the hell out of dodge and came back here." Nat's gaze was unfocused, remembering. "We flew back as quickly as we could, we were on the live comm feed with the command center. We heard everything that was going on."
Charlotte's blood chilled. They'd listened to everything. Had she sounded like a complete rookie? Her adrenaline had been pumping so strongly, she couldn't conjure more than a hazy recollection of what she said.
"We didn't think we would make it in time." Steve was somber. "We heard you go back, try to extract the information. When they kept counting down and you still hadn't gotten out…we were still flying over the woods outside the shield. It wouldn't have been possible for us to get the jet to the landing pad and get out to you, and there was nowhere to land it with all the trees around you." He glanced at Bucky, who'd set his jaw defiantly. "As you know, Bucky decided to take matters into his own hands."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows at Bucky, waiting for him to chip in.
"If I would have known saving you would be this demanding of a job, I would have asked for a raise." His dry tone was nothing new, but for some reason it struck her wrong.
"I don't remember calling for your help, Sergeant."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."
"Gee, thanks, should I replace our next training session with an hour of groveling and falling at your feet? That seems to be the reaction you're looking for."
"As tempting as that sounds, I think you've done enough falling for a while." He nodded his head at the wrapped, gauzy mess that was her left leg. Charlotte's hands curled into fists, gripping her coffee mug so tight the ceramic creaked.
"Anyways," Natasha cut in pointedly. "We made a note to keep parachutes in every Quinjet from now on, but thankfully, Cap's shield did the trick this time. We don't want to lose anyone. We're a team. A family." The last word seemed to be directed straight at Bucky, her eyes staring daggers at him, a warning not to be so…Bucky.
"And now you're caught up." Sam joined. "Now tell us what we missed, because clearly it was quite a bit."
Calla raised her eyebrows at Charlotte, grinning. They exchanged a look, debating who should launch into the story first. It was Calla who took over, unable to keep her excitement at bay. She told them about her quiet morning after Sam and the rest of the group left, how she'd gone to get coffee and found Charlotte about to choke out one of the agents. A collective groan came from the group when she told them which one. His ego didn't exactly fly under the radar in their training sessions, either. She told them about Charlotte's flying lessons, missing surprisingly few details, and their dinner at her apartment, then the ultimate interruption of the attack.
Calla nodded in agreement, her expression grave as she recalled the moment they had felt the first explosion rock the city. "Charlotte didn't hesitate for a second," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "It's like she just…locked in. She took off running before I could even process what was happening, started giving orders the whole way. She's a natural" Calla gave Charlotte a watery smile. "She made sure everyone had explicit instructions to keep the shields up even if she went down. She flew out not knowing what she'd see or if she'd come back. Everyone is right to call her a hero."
Charlotte winced slightly at the word. It felt unfamiliar, foreign. It wasn't a good fit. Not when she felt like she'd barely escaped with her life. If it hadn't been for Bucky, she wouldn't have. Prick as he might be, he was right. He had saved her. Again.
Bucky remained silent for the most part, his gaze fixed on Charlotte as she and the others watched Calla recount the events. There was a fire in his eyes, a barely contained anger. Had Charlotte glanced over to see it, she might think it was directed at her. A result of her handling the situation poorly, or not acting as he would have. It was Steve, however, that looked over at him, seeing something else entirely. Bucky wasn't a touchy-feely person, that much was blatantly apparent. That didn't mean he didn't feel at all. In fact, he felt more deeply than most people, the love for those he cared about able to blind him at times. As he sat and watched his friend watch the dark-haired girl on the medical bed, he just knew.
His friend was utterly blinded by what he was feeling.
Nat raised her mug. "To Charlotte Rossi, Mockingbird, Avenger of the Avengers." A chorus of agreement sounded around the room, mugs clinking in the air. "To Charlotte."