The compound was fully awake and buzzing with the news of what had happened earlier that morning as Charlotte headed to the hangar for her next challenge — piloting the Quinjet. A particularly bold group of agents gawked at her as they ran by in a pack, whispering to each other.
"I heard she almost killed Agent Scott," One muttered to the agent jogging beside her.
"If you can still talk then you aren't running hard enough, agents!" Maria Hill barked from behind the group, feet kicked up on the dash of the cart she was riding in. She winked at Charlotte as they drove by.
Taking a deep breath, she let the wave of irritation roll off of her. Most of the actual agents were kind, professional, tactful. It was the trainees that caused the most trouble. The ones who were top of their class at whatever Ivy League school they went to, high ranking in the military or CIA or whichever organization they'd been recruited from. They felt like they were on top of the world after being accepted into SHIELD's elite training program. It showed. Eventually, the egomaniacal ones would be weeded out. Either by dismissal from the program or being humbled in action. Until then, they'd continue being the thorn in her side. At the very least, she didn't seem to be the only one who had problems with their egos, if Calla's lack of disciplinary action towards her opening a can of whoop-ass earlier said anything.
The hangar looked larger than life, even more imposing in the daylight than it had looked before sunrise. Sleek slate gray walls rose high above her head, massive doors open to allow the aircraft to pass in and out. A long row of Quinjets spread down the side of the building, ready for takeoff at a moments' notice. A few more remained inside the hangar for maintenance, or enhancements being made.
A seasoned pilot, Lieutenant Rodriguez, awaited her by the hangars entrance. "You ready for this, Agent Rossi?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," Charlotte replied, suppressing the flutter of nerves. "You can call me Charlotte, by the way."
Rodriguez nodded and led her towards one of the Quinjets being serviced. They approached the base of the jet, a cool spring breeze blowing through the massive open hangar door. Slowly, they walked around the outside of the aircraft, with Agent Rodriguez pointing out every feature from the hover mechanics to the shield generator to the ballistics hidden beneath the shell. He explained the science behind stealth mode and the adaptations made for the most recent fleet. Finally, he paused at the base of the ramp.
"Any questions so far?"
She shook her head. "No sir."
He paused, doing a double take at her. "Do you really have that…perfect memory?"
"I don't know about perfect," She shrugged. "Let's just say it's pretty difficult for me to forget anything without extensive shock therapy. Don't recommend, by the way."
Agent Rodriguez cleared his throat, not sure how to respond. "Well, shall we?"
They strode up the ramp into the Quinjet, where he did the same in-depth history lesson on the entire interior. Charlotte had a feeling all of this detail probably wasn't necessary, but she heard him out anyway. They finally made their way to the cockpit where he talked through the controls, explaining each one patiently. The quinjet's complexity was astounding, but it was surprisingly simple to pilot, seeing as it was meant to be flown in high stakes combat situations. They'd evolved to be intuitive and easy to control in case the pilot was under duress while flying. She took a deep breath, trying not to think of her friends who'd flown one into a dangerous place just that morning. After the entire instrument panel had been explained, Agent Rodriguez switched the aircraft into simulation mode, where she could get the feel for all the controls without actually getting airborne…yet.
"First, familiarize yourself with the navigation controls," Rodriguez instructed. "Feel the thrusters respond to your touch."
The hangar echoed with the hum of the quinjet's engines as Charlotte tentatively manipulated the controls. The aircraft responded, but her movements were hesitant.
"Confidence is key, Charlotte. The quinjet is an extension of yourself," Rodriguez advised.
Charlotte nodded, absorbing the advice. She pushed herself to grow accustomed to the controls, gradually gaining confidence. It wasn't that she was afraid of flying, she really didn't mind it. It was more of the unfamiliarity, of being in control of something so massive. She'd only really been exposed to this kind of technology for the past two years. She'd never even driven a car before. Skipping straight to the highest-tech aircraft in existence felt like a giant leap. Rodriguez observed her progress as they moved through different aspects, offering guidance when needed.
"Alright, are you ready to take it out for a spin?"
Charlotte swung her head around to look at him, gaping. "What? Now? Today?"
"I don't see why not. You've mastered everything I've told you so far, and these are equipped with emergency autopilot activation, so if you take your hands off of the controls, it'll keep you airborne all on its own."
She raised an eyebrow, assessing his calm demeanor. "Alright. I suggest you buckle up, though. I don't even have a drivers' license."
He didn't seem phased, but clicked the buckle across his chest anyways, chuckling. Charlotte was grateful for his patience as he talked her through how to steer the jet out the open hangar door. When he finished and looked at her expectantly, she bit her lip.
"Would you mind to…could you just show me first?" She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm more of a…visual learner."
He smiled and nodded. "Of course." As he talked through what he was doing, Charlotte locked in on his movements. The order he flipped switches on, the pressure he applied to the joysticks, the directions his eyes flicked and what he was monitoring. Every detail locked into place in her brain as he gently set the jet down on the landing pad outside the hangar. As sunlight streamed in the massive windshield, she took a deep breath, cycling through the steps she'd just committed to memory.
"Your turn. Remember what I said about altitude control," Rodriguez said, guiding her through the process of lifting the quinjet off the ground. As the aircraft ascended, Charlotte's heart flipped. Her movements were mechanical, perfectly imitating what she'd seen him do, reciting the steps out loud as if she was reading from a textbook.
For the next hour, they practiced navigation, altitude adjustments, and basic maneuvers. Rodriguez praised her improvements, but Charlotte's tension lingered. From her training with Bucky, she was well aware of her own weakness. She could learn, but she had to be able to adapt. It was easy for her to watch Agent Rodriguez perform a maneuver and then precisely execute it in the exact same circumstance, but would she be able to perform this skill outside of this scenario? Could she execute the same sharply banked turn in an airborne firefight with an enemy? Could she pull this steep climb up the face of a cliff during an escape? Would she be able to take off during mass chaos inside the cockpit, where she didn't have the luxury of pacing herself exactly as he had done it? Her training with Bucky had admittedly given her many useful skills, but it had taken away the blind confidence she had in her abilities to learn and then do. She couldn't mimic something she'd never seen. Almost every mission would require spur of the moment decisions, flexibility, growth. She wouldn't have someone to absorb information from. She had to know these things inside and out and be able to perform them when it counted. That's what was making her grip the controls like a vice. Not the fear of heights, not the speed, but the pressure of truly learning this so that when it mattered…she wouldn't need to be rescued.
As the lesson progressed, Charlotte found herself settling into a rhythm.
"Alright, Charlotte, let's try a controlled descent," Rodriguez suggested. "Do you want me to show you first and then we can go back up for you to try?"
She stopped herself before she could say yes. "Actually, I'd like to try this one myself first. Can you talk me through it? Like we're on comms?"
He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile before giving her step by step instructions. It was a little rockier than the ascent, with her relying on the human side of her brain rather than the enhanced. As she got the hang of it, they descended more smoothly, and Charlotte marveled at the sensation of control she was gaining. By the time they touched back on the landing pad, Charlotte had logged several hours of flight time. She taxied the quinjet back into the hangar, feeling a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment.
"Great job, Agent Rossi. You've got the potential to be a skilled pilot," Rodriguez commended her, extending a hand for her to shake. "Charlotte."
The atmosphere in Calla's quarters was warm and welcoming as Charlotte stepped inside the next night. The apartment, though much smaller than the communal Avengers space, exuded a cozy charm. The aroma of pasta wafted through the air, instantly making Charlotte's stomach growl.
"Hope you're hungry. I'm no culinary expert, but my Italian blood picks up the slack," Calla said, a playful grin on her face.
"Hungry doesn't even begin to cover it," Charlotte replied, realizing how famished she was after her intensive training session. The team had only been gone two days and she was shocked at how much she struggled with the isolation. She'd been on her own for two years, and in the couple months she'd been with the team, it had become her new normal. Her very much preferred normal. The past two days, she'd avoided the common room as much as possible. It felt too big and empty. Even the grounds with the other agents felt preferable to that. Luckily after yesterday morning's incident, no one seemed too keen to harass her. Between flight lessons, doing solo simulations in the training room, and her normal strength and conditioning; she was beat. It was a welcome relief when Calla had sent word through FRIDAY to invite her to dinner.
"So, Calla," Charlotte began, sipping from her wine glass, "I'm sure you've got some interesting stories from your time here. What's it like working with the Avengers?"
Calla chuckled, a warmth in her eyes as she recalled various encounters. "Oh, where do I even begin? Well, there was this one time when Tony accidentally activated his suit's repulsors during a team meeting. Papers everywhere, and he blamed it on a malfunction."
Charlotte laughed, imagining the scene. "Classic Tony. Always the showman, even in mishaps."
"Exactly," Calla agreed, "But it's not just the tech mishaps. I once had to explain to Thor why we couldn't replicate the flavor of Asgardian mead in a pill form. That was a challenging day."
They settled at the small dining table, laden with plates of pasta, fresh bread and two glasses of wine. Charlotte took a bite of the steaming pasta, eyes rolling back at the rich flavor. "This is incredible. You're severely underselling your cooking skills." She took another bite and spoke through a full mouth. "Sam Wilson is a lucky man."
Calla chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. So, tell me more about your training. Yesterday you mentioned flight lessons?."
"Yeah, it's a learning curve, but I'm getting there," Charlotte said between bites.
"Forgive me for being so forward, but isn't learning kind of your thing?" Calla's eyes were kind, not at all teasing or malicious.
"Yeah, you could say that." Charlotte chuckled, taking a sip of her wine. "It's complicated. Or maybe I just make it complicated. If I see it, I can mimic it. It's like my body just…knows what to do. If you tell me something, or if I read something, I remember it. The hard part is with things that I can't see, can't imitate. Things like instinct, spur of the moment decisions, situations I haven't seen before. You can't teach that stuff."
Calla paused for a moment, watching her. "That bothers you." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." She twirled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. "I don't like feeling incompetent."
"From what I've seen, you're far from incompetent. Your abilities make you a force to be reckoned with. Especially considering everything you managed to do before coming here. Getting out of cryofreeze, making your way across the world after not even having seen this decade before? I'd say that's pretty adaptable."
Charlotte chuckled. "Thanks. I know how to survive, I can figure things out. I just feel slower, I guess. I'm used to it being automatic, like it's programmed into me. Well," She shrugged. "It is."
"I know it doesn't change anything…but I am sorry. For everything you went through." She gave a soft smile.
"Don't be sorry. We can't change the past, right? Besides, I wouldn't ever be able to work an office job anyways."
Calla laughed, sensing it was time to change the subject. She volunteered more stories about herself, much to Charlotte's relief. They talked about her childhood, her experiences in the military, all the juicy details of her love life with Sam. By the time they finished dinner, their stomachs were hurting both from the amount of bread and pasta they'd eaten and the amount of laughing they'd done.
"So that really makes a black eye go away faster?" Charlotte marveled.
Calla smiled knowingly. "Yep. Cold compresses and arnica gel. Trick of the trade."
"Damn, where were you when I first got here?"
"Same place I always am, holed up in the lab!" She winked as she cleared the table.
"So, what's the deal with Bucky?" Charlotte ventured, feigning casual curiosity. "I mean, he and Sam are close, right?"
Calla raised an eyebrow. "You're asking about Barnes? Why? Interested?" She winked.
Charlotte toyed with her hair, "No, no…not like that. Just curious. I mean, he's a bit…prickly."
Calla chuckled. "He's not exactly warm and fuzzy. You're not the first to be curious. He's difficult to read. Even Sam wondered where they stood for a while. I think he just decided he and Barnes were friends one day and eventually he stopped fighting it."
"That sounds about right," Charlotte laughed. "The problem is, I can't tell which one of us is fighting it. I feel like we just don't…mesh like we should."
"Some people would call that sexual tension."
"Calla!"
"I'm just saying." She shrugged and sipped her wine.
"It's definitely not like that." Charlotte rolled her shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable in her seat.
"Would you want it to be?"
"No!" She met Calla's unconvinced gaze. "It wouldn't work, it doesn't make sense. We can't even make it through a training session together without being at each others' throats."
"Again, some people are into that."
Charlotte couldn't help but laugh at her nonchalance.
"But seriously, you don't think Barnes is good looking?" Calla leaned forward on her elbows.
"Well, he's obviously good looking. The problem isn't that. It's him. He's too serious, he's controlling, he's overbearing and intense and broody. He treats me like I'm helpless, like some stupid kid."
"Does he treat you that way or is that just the way you feel?"
"I'm sorry, is this dinner or therapy?"
"Little of both." Calla winked. "Well, for what it's worth, Sam seems to think there's more to your…dynamic than meets the eye. He said Bucky isn't easily baited into arguments, but he seems to have a short fuse with you."
"Lucky me." Charlotte rolled her eyes, reaching for the bottle of wine to refill her glass.
"I'm just saying, the opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference. He is definitely not indifferent when it comes to you."
For a moment, Charlotte said nothing. She finished pouring the wine and set the bottle back on the table, taking a slow sip.
"I don't see him as the relationship type."
"So far, he really hasn't been. Sam, Steve, Nat, and even Tony, have all tried setting him up. But he's a tough one to crack. Even when he obliges them, it usually ends in a polite date at best. He never even calls them back. I think he's had a few hookups here and there when they go out drinking, or when Stark has parties at the Tower, but he's pretty private about that stuff. Even from Sam."
Charlotte swallowed, throat dry. She hadn't exactly assumed Bucky had been celibate his whole post-HYDRA life, had she? Truthfully, she hadn't really thought of it at all. Her life of freedom had only just gotten to the fun part when she was recruited by Natasha. Even so, the fun part hadn't extended to that kind of fun. Did she expect the same from him?
Seeming to read the expression on her face, Calla spoke again. "How's training been? You still feeling okay?" Her eyes flicked to the metal bracelet on Charlotte's wrist.
"Yeah, more or less. It's definitely a nuisance, impossible to ignore." She twisted it around, eying it distastefully.
"Good. I had a hand in picking out the alarm tone, you know." She smirked.
"Of course you did. Just when I was starting to like you." Charlotte scoffed playfully. "So you're somehow involved in everything, engaged to one of my roommates, and helped engineer the very bane of my existence…and you stayed completely under the radar the whole time?"
"It's easy to stay hidden when no one is looking for you." She smiled. "Were you looking for any signs of Sam being in a relationship? Did you have any interest in the rest of the science and engineering team? Did you try to get to know anyone else in the lab?"
"I guess not," Charlotte thought. "You just hid in plain sight."
"I'm glad I came out of hiding for this weekend." Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she raised her glass.
"Me too." Charlotte returned her smile, clinking her glass against Calla's. "I have a question."
"Shoot."
"Do you get to do your own research, your own experiments? Or do you have assignments?"
"A little of both. We have projects as a team, goals we're working towards. Finding breakthroughs for faster healing, perfecting new types of shields and weaponry, things like that. We also have blanket funding for other research we want to conduct. Although, truth be told, I love the research I'm assigned to. It's hard enough to tear myself away just to eat and sleep."
Charlotte nodded slowly. "Are you looking for a new project?"
"Did you have one in mind?" Calla raised an eyebrow.
"I just…I feel like I'm incomplete. Like they glitched in my programming, or whatever. Mentally, everything is great. I just feel like I'm not where I should be, physically." She held her wrist up, dangling the bracelet again.
"Charlotte, you're a genetically engineered super soldier. You're head and shoulders above the average human in every way. Not to mention the edge you have from your mental enhancements." Her gaze was wary, her tone more serious.
"I know, I know. I guess I just wonder what would be possible if someone good had been in charge of…everything. If it could have turned out better."
"Human experimentation is a dangerous and unethical game. We don't condone that here."
"What if you had a willing test subject?"
"Charlotte…are you seiously asking what I think you are?" Her face was incredulous.
"I don't even really know what I'm asking." She shifted in her seat. "After you told me your specialties, it just got me thinking. What if we can work together? I mean, HYDRA might still be out there. If they are, they're definitely working on something bigger and badder. If we want to have an edge, to get to breakthroughs before they do…shouldn't we try?" Her eyes were wide and genuine. "It's not like you'd be ruining my life. That train left the station about seventy years ago."
Calla chewed her bottom lip, less composed than Charlotte had seen her all night.
Before she could respond, the quiet atmosphere was shattered by an earth-shaking explosion that reverberated through the compound. The empty plates rattled on the table, wine sloshing in the glasses. Both women sprang to their feet, their eyes wide with alarm.
"What the hell was that?" Charlotte exclaimed, arms out for balance as the tremors slowed down.
Calla rushed to the balcony, throwing open the door as she ran, her eyes scanning the night sky. "That sounded like an attack outside the shield. But who would dare..."
Before she could finish, the sky erupted in streaks of light as rockets were fired from a distant aircraft. It was a few miles away, but clearly visible in the night sky. They were banking hard, circling back. Their aim wasn't on the compound itself, but on one of the shield generators. It was deep in the woods, buried underground. Although it was within it's own protection, if enough damage was done to the ground around it, the displaced earth could damage it even inside the shield. This was one of three generators, but the loss of one would severely increase the load on the others. Another explosion shook the earth as flames exploded into the sky above the treeline. The enemy's assault on the shield protecting the compound was relentless.
Charlotte's heart pounded. She knew the protocols for such situations – rally the Avengers, secure the perimeter, get the agents to the designated safe zones. A sinking feeling in her gut told her there was something more to this. It was nearly midnight, meaning the compound was at its emptiest. The only people here were the few that lived here, the agents on night patrol, and the ones assigned to the mission the team was away on. The mission that drew the most important members of the team the furthest away from the compound, right before it was attacked.
It was a trap.
"Calla, we need to go. Now," Charlotte urged, urgency cutting through the chaos.
They sprinted through Calla's apartment and tore down the halls. After emerging from the back stairwell to the lab, they froze in the night air, witnessing the alarming scene unfolding across the compound. The once serene night had transformed into a battleground. A handful of agents were sprinting from the guard towers towards the main building, an attempt to reconvene and come up with a plan. Looking back from their retreating backs to the hangar, Charlotte willed herself to think clearly.
"I need to get to the Quinjet. If I can get airborne, we might have a chance," Charlotte declared, her mind racing. "There's only one of them, and I can fire from inside the shield."
"Charlotte, if the shield falls and you're in close range…" Calla protested.
"We don't have much of an option right now. If the shield falls at all, there won't be much left to show for it."
Calla nodded, her military training kicking in. "Let's move."
They sprinted across the compound, the ground still trembling from the last detonation. The usually quiet night air echoed with the sounds of alarms and distant explosions. As they approached the place where the path diverged between the main SHIELD building and the hangar, Charlotte stopped, grabbing Calla's arm.
"Calla, I need you to go to the main building. Rally all the agents on the property, secure the perimeter, and keep communication lines open. I'll get on comms as soon as I get to the hangar. I need to know if there really is only one bird up there. We don't know if this is just a diversion. Get word to the rest of the team ASAP and feed them all the intelligence we have so far. I'll take the Quinjet and provide air support. If anything happens to me, do not under any circumstances leave the compound to come for me. Take as many agents as you can into the bunker and wait for backup. Understood?" Charlotte gave clear and direct orders, eyes calculating and intense.
Calla hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Understood. Be careful, Charlotte."
Without waiting for more, Charlotte sprinted for the hangar, her focus unwavering. Stripping off layers of clothing as she ran, footsteps echoing through the empty, cavernous room, she headed straight for the locker room. In less than a minute, she was zipping up her battle suit, more thankful than ever for the self-lacing technology in her boots. She didn't waste time grabbing weapons, relying on the small arsenal in the Quinjet. Plucking an earpiece from the cabinet near the door, she slid it into her ear and began running again.
"Command, this is Mockingbird, do you copy?"
The line crackled to life as a tinny voice came through the other end. "Mockingbird, this is Command. We read you loud and clear."
"Tell me what you see."
"One combat aircraft near Generator Alpha, none detected near Bravo or Charlie. We're picking something else up on radar, but it's pretty high up and we can't get a clear read. Could be backup, use extreme caution and keep stealth mode ON."
"Roger that," She emerged back into the night sky, feet pounding the concrete as she ran towards the nearest Quinjet. The one she'd been practicing in earlier that day. She lowered the ramp and scrambled inside, running towards the cockpit so quickly that the chair nearly spun with momentum as she dropped into it. Hands flying over the instrument panel, she brought the aircraft to life. The engines ignited in a familiar roar, a chaotic harmony to the blood pulsing in her ears. Not from fear of what she was about to do, but from fear for her friends, and what they must have flown into. Pushing the thought from her mind, she brought her focus back to the present moment. She couldn't control what was happening on the other side of the world, but she could sure as hell make sure they had something to come back to.
"Mockingbird to Command, prepared for takeoff."
"Roger that, Mockingbird. All clear. Go get 'em."