#framework fic

[scribeofmorpheus]

Counterpart [1 / 5]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

A/N: Steve is going to be OOC because in the framework he works for Hydra and they’re kinda like the S.H.I.E.L.D of this world, only still evil. I lost imagination when it came to naming his daughter so I went with his mother’s name.

Warning: NSFW, mild violence, mentions of mental instability, mature themes, etc.

Series Masterlist | A03 | Masterlist

Leave a like, comment or reblog. Ask to be tagged! ☺

PART ONE: SUBMERGED

The record player in your shared bedroom spun an old record seemlessly, the air was filled with the loud music from the retro record player you had bought for Bucky's birthday. Hidden in weaker octaves below the sound of music was yours and Bucky's passionate moans. The two of you tangled together within your summer sheets, early morning sunlight creeping across the ceiling.

Your fingers were knotted around Bucky's as the bed rocked back and forth in a gentle squeak. The vibrato of his moans travelling from his chest to yours as he kissed you deeply. Your lovemaking was slow, purposeful and sensual. The base of your feet moving along the back of his knees as they twitched every time he hit the right spot. His metal arm busying itself between your legs to increase the pressure, vibrating ever so slightly now and again.

You gasp his name as he mumbles yours hoarsely, the creaking of the springs growing louder as his movements become more powerful. And then your womb fills with warmth as both your breaths hitch and you moan into a deep kiss while your muscles spasm orgasmically.

Bucky looked deep into your eyes and you looked back, losing yourself in his warm embrace and heart-melting smile.

"I love you," you kissed the crook of his nose

"I love you too," he said softly just as he disconnected from you.

It was then that noticed the sheets were torn from where Bucky's metal arm had taken purchase towards the end of his climax.

You pouted, "I loved these sheets too, though."

Bucky glanced back at you, eyes falling down to look at the hole in the bedding, "Guess we have to add bedding to the shopping list." He caressed your pout away with his thumb. "Go take a shower, I'll deal with the sheets before I join you."

You stood from the bed on shaky legs, "Don't be long, babe."

After your shower, you and Bucky got dressed and made your way to the large, shared kitchen on the ground floor of the Avenger's compound. You were more than a little self-conscious of the fact your skin was currently sporting the after-sex glow.

"Good Morning," Wanda said as she saw the two of you enter the room hand in hand. "Sam made a fresh batch of coffee before his run if you're interested." She directed that piece of info at Bucky, he nodded in thanks, grabbing his favourite cracked mug he'd bought at some old military vet’s yard sale.

You saw Wanda sip down some tea, the both of you not the biggest coffee drinkers. Wanda said it made her powers go all whacky and you didn't like feeling anxious first thing in the morning.

"Please tell me there is more of that," you pleaded.

"Here, I made you a cup," Wanda tittered before taking down another mug and filling it with the last remnants of tea from the pot.

Bucky stood over the stove, making French toast while you and Wanda brainstormed over how to improve your costume designs since you were both overdue for an upgrade.

"How are my favourite people this morning?" Sam asked. There was a sweat patch on his grey t-shirt from his morning run.

"All good, how was the run?" You replied.

"Looong," Sam's nose took several whiffs. "I smell carbs. Y'all are killin' me with all this gourmet shit while I'm on my juice cleanse."

Bucky laughed with bewilderment at Sam, "I will never understand your strange diets." Bucky commented, less on Sam's current eating pattern and more on the generations.

"Easy for you to say, not all of us got our physique from a serum." He walked to the fridge and took out a pre-made bottle of green juice.

You noticed Bucky's concentration wander out to the empty space of the airfield strip visible through the window opposite him, his French toast burning making your nose crinkle uncomfortably.

"Bucky, babe, everything alright?" You asked from the couch.

He turned to you, "Yeah, just peachy. Why?"

"Your French toast is burnin' man, that's why." Sam slapped Bucky's arm sarcastically.

"Oh, shit!" He swatted at the black smoke.

You stood and walked over to him. Circling your arms around his midriff, placing your chin on his shoulder, needing to stretch on your tippy-toes to do so.

"It's okay to miss him, you know," you reassured him. "I miss him too."

Bucky knew you were talking about Steve.

Steve had been your mentor after he recruited you during the blip. He'd tracked you down after you started to lose control of your powers from accidentally triggering your terrigenesis.

You'd only know Steve for round-about five years. Bucky had known him a life time’s worth, you couldn't imagine how much he missed his best friend.

After the blip was undone, Sam had pretty much taken over as your mentor. Wanda had grown to become your closest friend once Sam decided it was best if someone with abilities similar to yours took you under their wing when his responsibilities as the new Captain America became all-consuming.

"I know," he patted at your hands locked around him. "Toast?"

You looked at the charred breakfast, the stronger burnt smell making your stomach queasy. "No thanks. Eggs and I haven't been on the best of terms lately."

"Oh, I didn't know."

"It's my fault for not saying anything. I'll just make a fruit salad."

Just then the mission alarm chimed and Sam downed his drink, "They're playin' our song!"

"Guess that means I'll have a protein bar," you made your way to the changing rooms.

Bucky sighed and glared at the flashing yellow light, "We can't have one damn, boring breakfast?" He asked himself.

***

"Oh, I see Y/N has an obvious glow," Sam commented while Bucky looked over the monitors on the Quin-jet. Sam was double-checking his ammo stock. "Did you ask her?"

Bucky finished skimming the brief before he turned to Sam, "Not, yet."

Sam looked at him with exasperation, "What's the matter, why are you stallin' man?"

"I'm not stalling!" Bucky said defensively, folding his arms.

Sam let out a sarcastic chuckle, "You are. You're bein' a chicken about this."

Bucky sighed, "I'm waiting for the right moment, is all."

"Right moment? Man, you got an entire jet at your disposal, capable of flying you to some breath-taking places for free, it's like one of the few good perks of bein’ an Avenger, and you’re giving me some bullshit about perfect timing. Admit it, you're just scared."

"Whatever, Bird-man."

"Oh, that's cold, Tin-can."

"Hey, you guys done with your lover's spat?" Wanda teased. "Keep the ring talk down, Y/N is heading this way."

Sam looked at her lack of costume, "You not commin'?"

Wanda rubbed her forearms as though she suddenly grew cold, "I'm… I'm not ready for active duty. Sorry, boss."

"Hey, I don't handle the paychecks, I ain't no one’s boss." Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. It's not aliens or somethin' earth shatterin', just a submarine. We can handle this. Heck, I'm sure Grandpa Barnes over here could handle it himself!"

Wanda laughed before giving the boys a heads up, "Hey, whatever you do, don't comment on Y/N's new suit. She's trying out a new look. It's… different." 

Both men made a zipping shut motion on their lips before Wanda headed back into the compound.

“You think she’s doin’ okay?” Sam asked Bucky.

Bucky turned to look at Wanda’s retreating form, she still had that sadness in her eyes, but Bucky could tell the days passing her by numbed the look away.

“She seems better, I think spending time with Y/N has been good for her. But you can never tell with these things,” Bucky said earnestly.

“Yeah, that’s the bitch of it!” Sam sighed.

~South Pacific Ocean

"It's really beautiful down here," you pointed at the swarming school of glowing fish visible through the deep-sea diver’s observation glass.

Bucky checked his rifle before looking to the same school of glowing sea creatures, "It is. If we weren't on an infiltration mission, it would be quite the romantic setting." He smirked at you, his eyes looking almost wistful.

"Who says it can't be?" You retorted.

"Hey now, kids. Keep the comms clear of all that flirting," Sam said over your earpieces.

"Roger," there was an uncomfortable beat of silence. Bucky’s eye flinched but he tried to hide it by scratching at his beard. "I- err… meant, copy."

"Two minutes until contact and then we breach their hull," Bucky informed Sam. "Going radio silent."

"You know what to do if you need back up," Sam said before the comms went radio silent.

"You ready, doll?" Bucky asked.

You stretched your phalanges and smirked like a cocky son-of-a-bitch, "For anything!"

You stretched out your hand for a fist bump. Bucky hesitated for a moment, face showing clear confusion.

"I know Sam taught you how to do a fist bump, Buck. It's his second most favourite way to greet people, second only to high fives," you pointed out.

Bucky sighed and connected his fist to yours.

"See, was that so hard?" You mocked him.

"Excruciatingly," Bucky admitted freely. He hid his smile by letting his hair fall over the half of his face where his lip curled upwards.

You smiled knowing he wasn't as subtle as he liked to think he was.

"Coming up on the hull," You informed him.

"You know what to do."

You nodded then used your abilities to create a vacuum bubble next to where the ships lasers were cutting a hole through the metal so the submarine didn't depressurise. You put on your helmet over your pressure suit and once the door was opened, the both of you glided across the vacuum stream like astronauts in space.

Once inside the submarine, Bucky turned on the force field generator to block the new hole and you closed the vacuum. You both took off your pressure suits before heading for the control room. All the while staying close to Bucky's six.

After tactfully disarming and dealing with several very angry men with guns, Bucky and you finally reached the control room.

"Sam, we're in the control room," Bucky disabled radio silence.

"What is all this?" You asked as you spun around to get a good look at the room.

There were several sensory deprivation tanks filled with green looking water hooked up to a long row of computers that were running a program in the background. In all the tanks were naked bodies, people, floating about seemingly in a deep sleep. Their vitals monitored by EEG and EKG machines. At the bottom corner of each monitor was a name and a blinking notification saying: Synchronisation to Framework at 95%

"It's a lab," Bucky said coldly. "Some sort of bio-mechanical experiment."

You peered at the words scrolling through the monitors catching sigh of a word that seemed familiar, "Ever heard of the Framework?"

"It sounds familiar, I just can't place it."

"What do you think happens once that loading bar reads a 100?" You pointed at one of the monitors.

Bucky frowned, "I'd rather not find out. Let's see if there's a way to shut this down."

"Good idea," you pulled up a chair and tried to bypass the security measures when an anti-tamper device got set off.

Bucky, having quicker reflexes than yours, heard the click, reached for you and pulled you to the floor, his body covering yours as one of the computers sparked in a miniature explosion.

When he assessed it was safe to get up, he helped you off the floor and cautioned with fear widened eyes, "Exercise more caution, please."

"Let's try that again," you dusted off the pieces of plastic and soldered metal wiring from your jacket.

"Safely," he urged.

You disabled the second anti-tamper device and logged into the computers, your satellite key allowing you to siphon data. However, you didn't have enough time to stop the countdown and as soon as the monitors read 100% each of the bodies in the tank flat-lined. The bodies dying out from a lethal injection of a beta-blocker.

"No, no, no!" You tapped at the keyboard.

Bucky watched on in horror as each tank went dead like a set of unstoppable dominoes.

"It's too late," Bucky said softly. "Come on, let's try to--"

And then the room went white. A hot flash pushing you away in a great rippling effect. The metal walls of the submarine groaned as it was forced apart from the inside, water flooding into the room, causing everything to spark.

Your body was rushed by the powerful waves into the wall, and your head crashed painfully against it, knocking you out.  

***

Sam pulled Bucky's unconscious body out of the water and onto the shore, his GPS sewn into his tactical suit flashing red as a subtle beeping noise sounded out.

Sam cut off Bucky's bulletproof vest with his army knife, but that didn't help, Bucky still wasn't breathing. He checked for the feeling of air coming from Bucy’s nostrils. Nothing. Then for a pulse. It was there, but just barely.

Sam began to frantically administer CPR, "Come on you Tin-can! Don't give up on me!"

After 30 seconds, Sam took out a small metal device and placed it on his palm before connecting it to Bucky's chest, shocking him with volts of electricity.

Bucky gasped for air, "Gaahhhh!"

He looked around frantically, confused for a second. He gripped Sam's arms a bit too hard and shouted in a croaky, waterlogged voice, "Where is she?"

Sam looked down at the sand.

Bucky shook him harder, "Where is she? Is- is she?"

"Her vitals are still online. She's alive."

"Then why do you like someone just ran you over with a truck, Sam?" Bucky growled furiously.

"Her GPS stopped broadcasting. We think whoever blew up the submarine took her with them."

Bucky pounded his fist in the sand repeatedly, "No! No, no, no, no..."

You gasped awake from your nightmare, surprised to find your bedding in one piece. Your lack of clothing was slightly alarming.

The sound of water cascading out of the showerhead filled the room. You peaked through the open door, but the steam was obscuring the body of whoever was in there.

Your skull felt like it was about to split in two.

"It felt so real," you braced the side of your head where a headache was forming.

"Sweetheart, you awake?" A familiar voice called out from the shower.

Unsure of what to say, you played along. "Y-yeah!"

"Why don't you come join me?" the man asked.

The cold feel of metal on your left finger made you look closer at your hand. There on your ring finger was a platinum wedding ring, a large clear diamond shining with the morning light.

Something about the ring on your finger felt odd. You were about to take it off, examine it closer, when a second migraine hammered at your temples.

 Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 45%

Flashes of a night in Rome raced through your mind. The colosseum, the smell of rain, a man on one knee. The same voice from the shower speaking out nervously: "Will you marry me?" A red, velvet box. A sparkling ring. A deep inhale of breath. "Yes, yes! A thousand times yes!"

"Ugh," you groaned as you stood to grab your painkillers from your medicine drawer.

On the flat surface of your dresser you saw a framed wedding photo: You and a man who looked eerily like Steve, only his eyes were colder and his hair was darker- less blond and more dusty. Light reflected off the glass and shone directly in your eye, triggering a second hammering pain against your cranium.

 Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 45%

The memory of your wedding day coming back to you as clear as day. Your hands held affectionately in Steve’s as he slid the ring onto your finger and you smiled through the veil at your fiancé-soon-to-be-husband. Your cheeks dusted with makeup and sore from all your non-stop smiling.

You gripped the dresser, dropping the leather wallet that was placed there. You waited for the pain to pass before you bent down to pick it up. Curiously, not recognising the wallet, you opened it. Turns out it wasn't a wallet at all but a badge. Your picture showed you with short-cropped hair and a stern scowl. Your name printed as 'Y/N Rodgers'. A watermark of a six tentacle skull caused the ink that spelt out ‘HYDRA’ to bleed a little.

 Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 48%

Suddenly, you remembered the day you had graduated from the Hydra academy. Steve dressed in his official uniform, red and black with the Hydra sigil printed on his chest. You had blushed when he had commended you on being valedictorian. Your hand shaking his on a stage in front of thousands of glaring classmates, faces plastered with fake smiles. A wedding band on Steve's finger but none on yours. His wife standing together with the rest of the honorary alumni. That was the first day you met the love of your life.

 The sound of rushing water stopped and the temperature in the room started to drop.

"Hey, Y/N," Steve startled you from your reminiscing.

"Yes, babe?" You looked over at his equally naked body.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"N-no, sorry. I have a hell of a headache this morning."

"More nightmares again?" He asked.

You nodded your head adamantly.

Steve sighed, disappointment on his face. "We talked about this, Y/N. You have to make sure you take your meds."

He handed you a pill bottle from the open drawer.

Your mouth gaped open when you read the label, "These are anti-psychotics."

"The doctor assured us it won't hurt our chances, just take them so I don't have to spend all day worrying you'll get another migraine while at work," He kissed your throbbing temple. "I draw my limit at one injury in the field at the expense of your reluctance to stay on the regimen."

Steve's thumb graced the spot below your breast where a fresh stitch was beginning to heal. The skin still purple and deep red from trauma.

"I don't remember getting this?" Your hand touched the raw skin.

"Doc said memory loss is normal." He made his way back into the bathroom.

You nodded, feeling guilty for making him worry. You popped two pills and swallowed dry. Then all of a sudden a word he used earlier made you ask: "Babe, what did you mean by 'hurt our chances'?"

Steve walked back into the room, toothbrush tucked in his cheek as he stared at you as though you'd said something unbelievable, "For a baby. Remember, we agreed that after the divorce was finalised, and once Sarah was old enough, we'd try."

"Divorce?"

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me. My lawyer called, said to remind you to sign the paperwork he sent over."

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah, since you're going to legally become Sarah's guardian."

You frowned, unable to remember. Your migraine ebbing away into a mild headache since you took the pills.

Steve placed his palm on your forehead as if checking for a fever, "Wow, I haven't seen you have such a bad episode since Budapest."

"I'm sorry, I just need a bath and some breakfast," you reassured him.

Steve swooped you off your feet as he carried you to the bathroom, "How about a massage?"

You giggled at his spontaneity, "You just got out the shower."

"Doesn't mean I can't get dirty all over again," he said passionately as he placed a kiss on his lips, his beard tickling you.

 Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 50%

Chapters Two: Doppelgangers

Special mention to @500daysofbecky : Thought you’d love some Steve content to celebrate your b-day week! Sorry it wasn’t fluffy... ☺

AFWHI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader  

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees 

[capriciouswrites]

“God, you’re perfect.” for Jemma/Will please!

Jemma is impressed with how real it all feels. She’s dropped into a room – or rather, she’s dropped into a computer programed body of her own that is in a room, and the detail is immaculate. It’s too bad that Radcliff has gone insane – it’s a beautiful bit of creation, and the possibilities, what someone with some morals could do with it?

She hopes they don’t have to completely destroy it, to end this, but she’s already braced herself for that possibility as her fingers trace ideally over the subtle texture of the wallpaper. She moves onto a vase next – admiring the way the light shines through the thin glass.

The room – and the ones she can see beyond it – are distinctly in her style, but don’t match anywhere else she’s lived. That’s probably the most eerie part – that something she would’ve thought of as so intimate could be –

“Are you almost ready?” calls a voice from the other room and Jemma drops the vase and it crashes to the floor.

He’s there in an instant – standing in the door way and then he’s carefully picking her up and she’s not wearing shoes, and carrying her to the couch where he’s brushing at her feet and –

The light from the window catches the color in his eyes and she never had the chance to admire him in sunlight but – “God,” she breathes, “you’re perfect.”

And then he’s grinning up at her and she can almost feel his eyes as they trace the dress she’s wearing and – “I’m pretty sure that’s my line, Jem.” And the way his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles at her make her chest ache and – “Are you okay?”

She’s got tears in her eyes, she realizes, and then he’s found a cut on her hand and it doesn’t hurt even when she sees it – nothing hurts as much as the weight in her chest as he gets up and grabs a plaster from a drawer and comes back to her.

“We better wrap this up before we go,” he says, as he gently dabs the blood away with a tissue, “I’m pretty sure some of your colleges are actually sharks, and we wouldn’t want any blood in the water, hey?”

The tears spill out of her eyes and she can’t help it and he’s holding her and he feels so real and she might not even care that he’s not and –

“Hey, hey,” he says, shushing her like her heartbreak is his fault, “that was a bad joke, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, it’s okay, cry it out, love.”

And she finds the strength in her limbs to do just that – to hold him to her and cry and cry and cry.

Because she left him once and he died, and it doesn’t matter that he’s not real, she’s not sure she has the strength to do it again.

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Anon I thought the same thing when I saw last week’s episode! Thanks for the prompt! Well I’m not sure it was a prompt but let’s pretend like it was.

The expression on May's face is one of disappointment. It starts in her eyes and spreads across her features, drawing her lips into a thin line, furrowing her brow. More than disappointed, she looks almost dangerous.

Daisy's hand trembles as she tightens her fingers into a fist. "It…it takes a minute," she says softly, pulling in a deep breath to settle the nerves flaring through her body. She wonders if May can hear the lie in her words; she's grateful this May doesn't share the memories that are currently running through Daisy's mind right now of the uncontrollable earthquakes that had started almost immediately.

Letting the breath out between her teeth, Daisy unclenches her fist and holds her hand up again. The gesture is easy, second nature, her muscles flexing with the familiarity. But still nothing happens. Daisy can feel something inside her, the sensation of something new and different in her bones and blood, the steady reminder of what she is. But still there's something different about it; the familiar hum is gone. She feels severed from the molecules vibrating around her, aside from the ones she feels in May.

"You lied to me," May says evenly and her disappointed look has disappeared completely in favor of the dangerous one. "Do you have any idea what I've done? What I've gone through to get that piece of crystal and-"

"No," Daisy says quickly, shaking her head. Her arm is still up between them, almost out of habit. Her body doesn't hurt anymore and she can't taste blood in her mouth but the strength in her body doesn't seem like enough without her powers. "No, I didn't lie," she assures May. "It's just…it's different here. I need time. I promise. I'm telling you the truth, May."

May's scowl only deepens. "Don't say that," she says. "Like you know me."

Daisy can only purse her lips, biting the inside of her cheek until the blood taste is back. May steps forward, grabbing onto Daisy before she can take a step backward, holding tightly to her elbow. "What are you doing?" Daisy asks quietly and the sudden surge of fear that she feels while looking at May's face is becoming unfortunately familiar.

May pulls her toward the door. "Getting you out of here."

Daisy's eyes widen. "Why-"

"I've come this far," May says as she pulls the door open. "Take me to the Resistance. And I hope your powers start working soon because we're going to need them."

Despite Daisy's best efforts nothing happens. There's nothing there, none of the feelings that she's become so familiar with over the past several years. There's nothing.

But there are Hydra agents. And there are guns. Thankfully Daisy doesn't need her powers to use one of those.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daisy bursts into the apartment that has become the sort of home base in the Framework, listening to the door bang against the wall behind her. "Jemma!"

She can tell right away that there's no one here. It's too quiet, too still. Jemma is gone. Even still, Daisy moves from one small room to the next, looking for her. Anxiety twists her stomach while fear for Jemma twists at her heart. She doesn't try to force down the emotions, letting them flare up to the surface; once that would have terrified her, that feeling of uninhibited emotion that would have driven her powers completely out of control. But now there's nothing, not a single tremble in the earth to reflect how she's feeling inside.

In the bathroom, Daisy finds two words scribbled in Jemma's handwriting, tucked at the bottom of the mirror. Call Ward. It does little to ease the fear thudding through her heart and reminds her all too much of the message she'd left behind years ago, carved letter by painful letter when she'd thought she might die for leaving it. Ward is Hydra.

Daisy leaves the bathroom, her mouth dry. May is standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. "Well?"

"They aren't here," Daisy answers, pulling her phone from her pocket. May's eyes flash, another flare of annoyance and Daisy quickly adds, "They're with Ward."

May frowns slightly. "Ward? Ward is working for the-"

"Apparently," Daisy says breezily as she finds his name in her contacts. "That's the thing about Ward. You can always trust him to double cross someone."

Ward answers on the second ring, as though he'd been expecting her call. "Skye-"

"Where's Jemma? Is she still with you? And Coulson?" Daisy can't hide the impatience from her voice and the tension in her body eases a little when Ward confirms that they're together. Ward's own flood of questions is silenced when Daisy says, "I need you to come get us. Take us to the Resistance."

There's a pause. "Who's 'us'?"

"I'm with May," Daisy says, looking over at the woman standing still and stoic. "Hurry."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There are tears in Jemma's eyes when she wraps her arms around Daisy, holding onto her tightly. Daisy takes a moment, all too brief in her opinion, to close her eyes and press her face into the crook of Jemma's neck, breathing her in. But they aren't alone and there's so much to do and say. There's always so much to do and say in their lives.

"I'm okay," Daisy assures her as they step away, aware of the eyes on them. "It's okay."

But Jemma only shakes her head and Daisy can't help but wonder if maybe the tears aren't for her return after all.

She can feel Jemma in the same way that she'd felt May and Ward when he'd picked them up. It's different from what she's used to, the steady vibrations in everything around them. But still it makes Daisy feel slightly reassured, like maybe her powers are coming back after all.

The base is familiar but in a dreamlike way, like the type of liminal space encountered only in dreams where reality is more of a memory than a perfect copy. It's crowded with people: agents and civilians alike. The workout area and lab spaces have been converted to a housing area with people crammed onto cots and blankets in every available space. Daisy can see Mack among the sea of faces, sitting off with a little girl on his lap and smiles on both of their faces.

Ward and May are talking a few steps ahead, their heads bent together and a serious expression on both of their faces. Coulson is trailing behind, looking somber and still somehow strangely excited, like he hasn't gotten over the thrill of it all.

It's easy for Jemma to take hold of Daisy's hand, pulling her away and toward a cot in one of the corners. Jemma's jacket is draped across the thin blanket and Daisy feels on odd tug in her heart to think about the time they've spent apart.

Jemma sits down, still holding tightly to Daisy's hand when she sits beside her. Their knees touch, bodies curved together to shut out the rest of the world. "Mace is dead," Jemma says softly and without preamble. The words settle over Daisy but don't seem to make sense, don't seem to connect. Jemma looks up at her. "He died a few hours ago. Saving a bunch of-" She stops and her hand tightens on Daisy's, nails digging into her skin. As she exhales, her grip loosens somewhat. "Teenagers," Jemma says finally.

"I don't understand," Daisy says quietly as the words finally begin to take root. "Mace is dead? Are you sure?"

Jemma can only look at her. "He thought all of this was real," she says softly. "He died for this. For these…these people here." She shakes her head. "And Fitz…I saw Fitz…you were right. He's different here, he's not…he's not Fitz. They've done something to him."

Daisy holds tightly to Jemma's hand as she watches her eyes fill with tears again. She doesn't know how to tell her that she knows all of this all too well, that some of the now-healed bruises and cuts that had covered her body only hours before were from him. Instead she reaches up with her free hand, resting her hand against Jemma's cheek. "It's not Fitz," she says softly, pressing their foreheads together. "It looks like him but it's not him. He would never…" He would never hurt me, Daisy wants to say but she can't make it worse.

"Kill someone," Jemma says so softly Daisy thinks she had to have misheard. But the look in Jemma's eyes lets Daisy know she hasn't misheard at all. It's the look of someone who has just lost her best friend.

As they hold onto each other, Daisy can't help but think about this world and how Mace is gone and Fitz is all but gone and nothing they've done since they've been here has made anything better.

"Radcliffe told me how to get out of here," Daisy tells Jemma softly, her words whispering against her ear so no one can hear. Because there's no telling how many ears Aida might have around them.

Jemma looks up at her in surprise. "Radcliffe? How?"

Daisy crinkles her nose. "We've been enjoying the same Hydra accommodations," she says dryly.

"Daisy," Jemma says softly, "you're all right." She says this like the realization has suddenly just come to her, the memory of what might have happened to her finally coming through the events of the past two days. "Ward said they'd taken you into custody and I didn't know…I've been so worried about you…"

"I'm okay," Daisy assures her again. "Now." Jemma gives her the once over, nodding uncertainly. "May…she…she helped me escape. And she brought some Terrigen."

Jemma's eyes grow wide. "Your powers?"

Daisy shakes her head. "It's different here." Admitting it out loud somehow makes her feel worse, like she's doomed herself to making it true. "I can feel…something. I feel different. I just…it's not the same. No earthquakes. I'm useless."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "Hardly," she mutters. "You're never what I would call useless."

"Well, I guess that's true, I mean I do know how to get us out of here," Daisy points out.

But Jemma's frown only deepens. "We can't leave. Not…not like this. We can't leave everyone here. It will only get worse."

Daisy nods. "I know." She moves closer to Jemma. "We can still fix this. We will."

Jemma kisses her softly, less a kiss and more a reassurance that they're still here together. Daisy closes her eyes, savoring the contact. She's made it back. Jemma is okay. They're both okay. That's what matters.

"Skye." Ward is standing a few feet away, his jaw clenched, his arms crossed over his chest. "We need you. Both. In the Dir…for a briefing."

Jemma doesn't let go out of her hand as they stand and Daisy doesn't even think about pulling away. Ward's eyes settle on the two of them briefly before he turns, leading the way down the hall.

Daisy lifts an eyebrow. "So you've been with Ward this whole time?" She questions, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Jemma frowns. "Don't remind me," she mumbles. "He's quite enamored with you. He's assured me several times that he would die for you, almost as though he's issuing a sort of challenge."

Daisy wonders if it's totally inappropriate to being smiling right now. "Sounds promising."

As they near the office, Jemma suddenly holds onto Daisy's hand tighter. "Oh. There's something I need to-"

But it's too late because they're standing in the Director's office and there's Trip and Daisy feels like the air has been sucked out of her lungs. He's alive and looking unruffled and smiley, like despite this world they're in now there's not a thing that's bothering him. She wants to go to him, to hold him tightly, to apologize for what happened, how his death was her fault. But she doesn't do anything of those things. She just stands there beside Jemma, facing down the metaphorical firing squad.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daisy lets out a groan of frustration, just barely resisting the urge to slam her fist into the wall. It wouldn't help their situation but it might make her feel better.

"It's useless," she snarls through gritted teeth. "Absolutely useless."

Jemma is standing behind her, wearing a mismatched set of workout clothes that look almost comical on her. Even still it gives them more freedom to move around, to loosen their muscles, to work out some of the tension constantly thrumming through their bodies. They're pulling their punches of course so Daisy is certain that if anyone where to walk by their training session would look more like playfighting.

Daisy turns back to face Jemma, rolling her shoulders. "This is never going to work. I don't have my powers. They're gone."

In addition to working loosely through the training exercises, they've been trying to get Daisy's powers to come back, hoping that Jemma's hypothesis that adrenaline might help the process will prove true. But there's been nothing, not a single twinge of what Daisy is used to feeling.

Jemma just huffs out a breath, frowning briefly. Without a word of warning she lunges at Daisy, wrapping her arms around her waist and sending them both crashing to the ground. She drives her knee into Daisy's stomach, keeping her pressed to the floor and she puts one hand around her neck and the other she raises in a fist.

Daisy lifts her hand out of instinct but mostly out of the obligation that she feels to Jemma. Her adrenaline level isn't exactly spiking and Daisy has a feeling that the sudden increase in her heartrate probably has more to do with the fact that Jemma is on top of her than anything else. But still, she dutifully lifts her hand, fingers splayed, and she tries, she really does.

But she already knows the outcome.

Lightly Jemma lets her fist hit against Daisy's palm and she puffs out her cheeks as she exhales. She takes some of the weight off Daisy's chest, resting against Daisy's bent legs. "We'll keep trying," she says softly.

Daisy can only shake her head.

At the sound of footsteps, they both turn their heads, surprised to see May standing there. She frowns slightly. "What are you two doing?"

"Training," Jemma says primly, getting to her feet and holding out her hand to help Daisy up.

May glances around, taking in the pathetically furnished hanger and its small array of planes and vehicles. It's the only place they could find to have room enough to train and test out Daisy's nonexistent powers.

May looks skeptical about Jemma's use of the word 'training.' She shakes her head. "Let's go. We've got an assignment."

Daisy wipes her forehead against her forearm as they follow May. "What kind of assignment."

May doesn't answer, no doubt still stuck in the mindset of not having to answer to her underlings.

Unsurprisingly the leader of the op is Ward. He seems to have stepped easily into Mace's shoes, which only turns Daisy's stomach. It's more than the fact that Coulson is there and the knowledge that he should be the one in charge. It's the fact that Ward, duplicitous and self-serving, has stepped up to fill in the shoes of a good man. Not that she says anything about it. It's obvious that everyone here, May included, seems to respect and be willing to follow Ward.

"There's a Hydra training facility several miles from here," Ward explains as weapons are passed out, "we want to eliminate the soldiers there and release the civilian prisoners."

Jemma only shakes her head, staring down at the gun in her hands. "We're wasting time," she says softly. "None of this matters."

Ward's eyes settle on her. "You're welcome to stay behind if this mission isn't important to you, Miss Simmons."

Jemma glares at him, sliding the gun into the hostler on her leg. Daisy can't disagree with Jemma's assessment; they aren't here to save this world, after all. But still, they go along with Ward's op, for Coulson and May's sakes.

"We have to be careful," Jemma says quietly, tapping her leg anxiously as they sit crammed together in the back of a Jeep. "We can't die here. We can't. Not for this."

Daisy puts her hand on Jemma's knee to steady her. "We won't," she says but there's no denying the flutter of nerves. "We won't."

The firefight starts pretty much the second they make it to the compound. It's almost as though the Hydra soldiers are expecting them, which maybe they are given what happened only recently at their "reeducation" center and given the fact that one of their top agents helped a prisoner escape and then joined the Resistance. Ward is an idiot but Daisy really doesn't have to time to waste on those thoughts seeing as she's too busy trying not to die in this stupid fake reality.

Daisy hurries into the building, sticking close to the walls, Jemma close behind her. She's mentally counting bullets, mentally counting soldiers and listening for the sounds of Jemma still alive and close behind her.

"This is bullshit," Daisy says through gritted teeth as she kicks open the door to the building, pointing her gun into the unseen area beyond. "I hate this world."

Jemma is beside her, gun drawn, eyes alert. "Computer programming," she mumbles in return. "We're risking our lives for computer programming."

The room they've entered doesn't appear to be heavily used. It's little more than a warehouse, full of shipping crates and containers marked with the Hydra logo. Daisy wonders if the dim lighting is a requirement for all nefariously run buildings and organizations. Just as she starts to lower her gun, the sound of movement catches her ears and she snaps alert once more. "Someone's here."

On cue, the fight starts. The three Hydra soldiers seem to appear out of nowhere, guns flashing and faces hidden by helmets. Daisy loses track of Jemma in her efforts to keep herself from getting shot by this faceless Hydra agent but she has to trust to Jemma can hold her own among these Hydra goons who definitely don't feel like pieces of code. In fact, Daisy is pretty sure she's already got plenty of new bruises to replace the ones that she lost after the Terrigenesis.

Which, you know, Daisy really wishes for her powers right about now.

The agent points the gun at her but Daisy knocks it out of his hand but before she can aim her own weapon they're both on the ground, the Hydra soldier grabbing her by a fistful of hair and slamming her face against the concrete. He tries to reach around her to grab the gun but she bucks him off, upsetting his balance and keeping him out of reach of the gun. Daisy's ears are ringing but she forces herself to her knees, reaching for the soldier once more.

This time he's ready for her. He moves so fast that Daisy isn't entirely sure what's happened until a white-hot flash of pain spreads through her chest. She screams as the agent grabs the hilt of the knife he's buried in her shoulder, pulling the blade out. He plunges the blade in again and even to Daisy's own ears the sound she makes it almost animalistic. She can feel the knife as it cuts through skin and muscle and sinew, scrapping against the bone. And it feels real, too real, horribly, terribly, painfully real.

The Hydra agent doesn't get the chance to use the knife again. A gun goes off with a crack and he drops, the knife clattering to the ground. Daisy can only stare at it and the blood shining on the blade.

Her blood. The blood that she can currently feel soaking the front of her shirt, running through her fingers, hot and sticky and real. So real.

She's well acquainted with what dying feels like.

Jemma is there beside her, whispering, talking to her, saying her name but Daisy is having a hard time following along, finding it difficult to focus on anything but the blood and the way it feels as it leaves her body. She can feel Jemma touching her but only because she assumes that what she's must be doing. Everything feels fuzzy and far away.

And then Ward is there too and Daisy can't help but stare at his face, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She looks over at Jemma, uncertain. She wants to ask if she's dead, certain that she must be, to see Ward's face above her own.

"We need to hurry." Jemma's voice is quiet and far away and it sounds like a rock facing down the stream trying to weather it away. There's nothing there but stone and the stoic refusal to accept inevitability. "We cannot let her die. You cannot let her die."

Ward grunts as he lifts Daisy into his arms and it hurts, it all hurts, and Daisy feels far away and she can barely hear over the sound of the humming. Why is there humming? It feels like it's moving through her. "I won't."

In the back of the Jeep, Jemma doesn't leave her side, climbing into the back beside her. "I need something to bind the wound and stop the blood flow," Jemma says, looking up at Ward. "Now."

Jemma reaches up, letting her hand rest briefly on Daisy's cheek. It's easier to feel her touch, easier to see her now. Everything seems like it's coming back into focus and the humming is quieting, slipping away. "It's okay, Daisy," Jemma says softly and there's blood on her forehead. "You're going to be okay."

Daisy hisses in a breath when Jemma yanks away the fabric of her shirt, trying to get a clear view of the wound. The expression on her face makes Daisy's stomach twist itself into knots. The years have taught Jemma how to hide her feelings away, how to shut off a part of her mind until the moment is over and the lives have been saved. But this…she's wearing her shock clearly on her face. "What's wrong?" Daisy hears herself asking, surprised at the ease with which the words come. Moments ago she hadn't even been able to think in complete sentences and now…now it's easy to shift slightly, to attempt to push herself up so she can see the wound in her chest.

Jemma reaches out gently to lay her back down. "Don't move, Daisy," she says softly but her eyes are still on the injury. "I…I don't understand."

Ward appears over her shoulder, passing over what looks like a tattered towel and a bottle of water. Jemma wets the towel with water, gently cleaning away the wound. Ward curses, glaring at her. "What are you doing! Hurry!"

But even his expression turns to one of surprise as he looks at Daisy. "What…I don't…"

Daisy feels a flare of annoyance. "What's going on!" She sits up suddenly, surprised to feel only a twinge of pain. "What aren't you telling me?"

She reaches up to touch the wound, her fingers still sticky with her own blood. But…there's nothing. No ragged flesh, no new blood, no flare of pain. Nothing but the rough skin of a newly formed scar. Daisy looks at Jemma. "What happened?"

Jemma can only shake her head, pressing the damp cloth to Daisy's chest to clean away the rest of the blood. There's nothing left beneath aside from the two pink scars that crisscross her skin.

Daisy touches them almost reverently and it's odd how her eyes suddenly burn with tears. The scars look oddly familiar. "My mother."

Jemma looks at her, surprised. "Your powers?"

Daisy can only shake her head, unsure of what to say. Ward looks back and forth between the two of them, scowling. "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The base in the Framework gives new meaning to the term 'lack of privacy.' At least in their own reality, they had their own rooms -with doors- and a team who respected everyone's need for space and time alone, sometimes with another person. All those things are a luxury here and the best they can do is push their cots together in the corner that Jemma took as her own when Ward brought her to the base. It's hardly an ideal situation, especially given the sounds of dozens of other bodies in the room with them, but it's better than being alone. Daisy isn't sure that she could handle being without Jemma, especially now.

The room is full with the noises of sleep: the deep and steady breathing, soft -or in some cases not so soft- snoring and the murmurs of people lost in dreams. Beside her, Daisy can just barely see Jemma's features in the glow of the ever-present emergency lights. Jemma's asleep but it's clear that whatever she's thinking about is hardly pleasant, given her furrowed brow and the way that the hand tucked beneath her chin is clutched into a tight, white-knuckled fist.

Not that Daisy should be judgmental. She can't even get to sleep. There was a time where her powers terrified her, where she hated the person that she had become. When she was afraid of that person. There had been a time where she would have given anything to get rid of her abilities and become the person she'd been before. But now she only misses them, misses who her powers had made her and the way they'd connected her to the world around her. The way she feels now, how she's connected to the people sleeping all around her because of their life energies, seems like a terrible mockery, a punishment. Absently, Daisy reaches up to touch the scar on her chest, a gesture she's been doing often. She's alive because of these new abilities but that doesn't make it an easier.

Slowly, Daisy sits up, pushing aside the thin blanket. Jemma is on her left, the cots pushed together without any space between them. There's a few inches between her and the next guy and Daisy manages to slip out of bed without waking up Jemma or the stranger on her other side. Picking her way through the rest of the sleeping people is like making her way through a minefield but she manages.

The Director's office is empty. Daisy hesitates only a minute before stepping inside. In a weird way she has more right to be in here than anyone else, seeing as it's essentially Coulson's office, though she wonders why she feels like it belongs to her by some extension of him. She glances around but there's no trace of Coulson here in this other world, not in this room.

Daisy moves toward the windows, resting her hands on the sill and peering at the world outside. It's unfamiliar and unforgiving and it makes her homesick.

The door creaks closed behind her and Daisy jumps, whirling around. Her hand lifts on its own accord but predictably nothing happens. Not that there's much of a threat. Jemma looks oddly small standing in the near darkness of the office wearing more castoffs to avoid having to sleep in her clothes. Her feet are bare and Daisy finds it odd how such a little detail can make her so in love with the woman standing in front of her.

"Couldn't sleep?" Jemma asks softly and Daisy shakes her head. Jemma gives her a wry smile. "It almost makes me miss the apartment Hydra paid for."

Daisy nods, stepping away from the window and toward Jemma. "I know what you mean." Her eyes fall on Jemma's bare feet once more before lifting to meet Jemma's gaze. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Jemma shakes her head. "Don't be." She reaches out, resting her hand on Daisy's elbow. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Daisy shakes her head. "There's nothing to say." The thoughts rattling around in her mind suggest otherwise. "I thought if I had my powers then…I could make things easier for us. I could make a difference. I could help people, help us, get the hell out of here." She looks down at her hands, useless in this reality. "But I have nothing."

Jemma slips her hands into Daisy's, holding onto her tightly. "Don't say that," she says quietly. "Your powers don't make you who you are," she tells Daisy. "And they're not useless. You're alive because of them. They aren't useless."

Of course Daisy knows this. She's grateful for this. But it doesn't make things better. "I can't help anyone," she whispers. "These powers can't do anything but hurt."

"Don't say that," Jemma says gently.

Daisy narrows her eyes slightly. "You know what I'm talking about." She grits her teeth. "My mother. She killed all those innocent people back in China and so many others…these powers made her…the things she did…"

Jemma shakes her head. "Your mother wasn't an entirely bad person," she reminds Daisy gently. "There was goodness in her and compassion. And her powers didn't make her the way that she was; eventually she started making her own choices." She takes Daisy's face in her hands and Daisy can hear that humming again in her bones and her blood, the life humming inside of Jemma. "You're your choices too, Daisy, no matter what powers you have."

The words settle between them and Daisy wonders if Jemma is thinking the same things that she is, how the choices of the people they loved and trusted and depended on have lead them to this place where it doesn't seem like choice exists anymore at all.

Daisy kisses Jemma's forehead and wraps her arms around her, holding onto her tightly. She thinks that if she had the choice, she might still choose to be here in this moment, with Jemma in her arms, the base silent around them. In the scheme of things, it might not be much of a choice at all, an insignificant moment stolen in the middle of the night, but it matters. It always matters.

[grapehyasynth]

What’s love got to do with it

Excerpt

Theirs has never been a fiery, instant love, the see-it-gotta-have-it kind of attraction. Even Fitz has admitted that while he’d long harbored a crush for her, it hadn’t started until they’d been friends for some time.

But this?

Jemma is fairly sure that even if she didn’t already know how it feels when Fitz brings her to toe-curling orgasm or what his scratchy morning voice sounds like calling to her from the shower or that secretive little smile of appraisal he reserves just for her, she’d still be drawn to this man.

And more alarmingly, with the way he’s looking at her – and not looking away – it’s clear that he feels the same, without the years of mutual respect and affection and recent accumulation of physical intimacy to justify the actual smolder he directs her way.

Framework-Fitz walks into Framework-Jemma's diner... And the connection is undeniable. But is lusting for your almost-but-not-really boyfriend infidelity? Inspired by the truly luminous and distracting picture of Framework Fitz.

Read it now!

[agelade]

A Map of the Night Sky

A Map of the Night Sky

An Agents of Shield Framework Fic

Jemma and Daisy's rescue attempt goes as smoothly as can be expected, and most of the hostages wake up in the real world. But Jemma and Daisy aren't there to stop Aida from retaliating against the newly awakened, weak agents. Someone's got to stay behind in the framework to distract her. FitzSimmons, Angst, Recovery. Chapter 1 of 3.

Read it on AO3

[melindacoulson4]

It’s all coming back to me now, ch.9

Previous: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10032407/chapters/22359605

MAY

There is an incessant yelling coming from somewhere and she just wants it to stop. Some guy keeps yelling for her, but she’s too busy right now. The pain coming from her skull is excruciating right now. She needs to continue resting. But he won’t stop screaming her name and now he’s banging on some metal. Why can’t she just get some peace and quiet around here? Wait, where the hell is she?

“Hey. Hey! Agent May!” There it is again.

Her eyes snap open as she jumps awake. Ugh, that was not a good idea. Her brain felt rattled. “mmmuuughhh,” she groans.

“Oh finally,” he sighs.

She focuses on the man. Glasses and dress up clothes are the first items that pop out at her. She knows who it is immediately.  It’s Mr. Coulson, the history teacher.

That means that Skye did something to him too. Oh, damn it!

“Skye! Skye!” she yells.

“She’s not here. No one is here. I’ve been screaming for 20 minutes with no luck,” Mr. Coulson responds.

That’s when she fully processes the situation. He’s here clearly against his will. They are in a HYDRA van and Mr. Coulson is seated across from her with both arms completely shackled by thick metal cuffs. The cuffs aren’t ordinary either. They were built for powered people, inhumans. Two sheets of steel have been retracted from the wall behind him. The metal is where his arms rest while the shackles completely incase his wrist and half of his forearm on both arms. His ankles and feet are also shackled to the floor of the van. 

“So….why are we in here?” he asks, clearly confused.

Skye had left her more restrained than he was. She glances down only to see that she has restraints on both thighs as well. The pressure from the cuffs around her thigh muscles is uncomfortable, but not painful.

She tries lifting her legs, wiggling her arms, kicking her feet, sliding her hands around, anything to find a way out but it is all of no use. She could barely move at all. Skye had completely immobilized her.

“Did you hear me?” Mr. Coulson interrupts her thoughts…again!

She stares at him. The glasses on his face are clearly a different pair from earlier. These new ones are a dark shade of green and have no cracks on either lens. She notices that he also changed clothes. He now wears a white button up shirt, blue cardigan, and black slacks. His forehead is glistening with sweat and his hair is once again disheveled. He has obviously been conscious and trying to escape for a while.

“Agent May?”

The only response she gives him is a pissed off growl. She can’t think with his constant questioning. She needs a minute of quiet in order to gather her thoughts. She rests her head against the van wall and closes her eyes, beginning to inhale a deep breath. Just stay calm. Coulson never could stay quiet for long, always talking about something. He had interrupted her meditation sessions many times before. Wait….what? No. Mr. Coulson has never interrupted her before. She only just met him today. Where did that thought come from? No matter, she doesn’t have time to dwell on it. She has to clear her mind and think all of this through.

Inhale. Hold for ten seconds. Exhale.

Skye had to be out of her mind to kidnap not only the director of HYDRA but an innocent witness from a crime scene? What the hell was wrong with her? Was she drugged? That’s the only excuse that comes to mind. Drugs would also conform to Skye’s insistence that they are all living in a simulation. That was not a normal thought to have. Everything seemed to be going fine with her until this morning. This morning, she came in completely flustered, definitely distracted, and emotional. It had to be drugs. That’s the only logical explanation.

Opening her eyes again, she’s met with Mr. Coulson’s own eyes, staring right at her with laser focus.

“My agent…Skye…..she told me that we’re all in some kind of dream world. That you, her, and I are actually agents of ….something called SHIELD,” she confesses, wincing at the ridiculousness of the statement. “What? You’re joking right?” he asks incredulously, eyebrows raising high on his forehead. She nods. “I know. You…..as an agent,” she mumbles. He smiles, and then opens his mouth, mocking offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’m sorry. It’s just….you don’t….,” she trails off. He laughs which causes a big grin to spread over his face. “Look like a secret super spy ninja? Like you do?”

A small smile creeps out despite her efforts. “No, you don’t.” “I’m a history teacher. Not….what did she call it?” he questions, brow furrowed in seriousness. This part is embarrassing to say out loud, given his previous statements on inhumans. “SHIELD. She said that we protect inhumans,” she tells him. He shakes his head firmly in denial. “Okay, now I know that she’s definitely lying.” You didn’t know that she was lying before? She catches herself before responding with that snarky remark. “I know,” she simply says. “So…where do you think she went?”   “I have no idea.” Wherever she is right now, she’s going to have hell to pay when she comes back. Is Ward in on this with her? He probably is. He’s probably the one that gave her the drugs. “She’s going to come back for us right? I mean, what if I have to pee?” She rolls her eyes at that question. Really, that’s what he is going to focus on right now? Not reasons why they are here, but when he could get a bathroom break.

“She’ll be back. She wouldn’t bring us here for nothing,” May tells him. Besides, it should only be a matter of time until HYDRA tracks down this van. Unless Skye hid it well, but she seemed to be in a hurry earlier so it is doubtful. His eyes grow wide with fear in response to her statement. “Is she going to kill us?” “No,” she says immediately. Skye would never hurt anyone on purpose. Not after everything that has happened to her. She’s had enough suffering. Whatever is going on with her is something serious and May just wants to help Skye get better. They sit in silence for a little while, until she notices that Mr. Coulson’s eyes keep darting everywhere. She forgot that he’s not used to this type of thing. This is probably the most excitement that he’s seen in years, besides the fire ball incident of course.

“I’m sorry about this Mr. Coulson,” she softly tells him, trying to reassure him. “Phil,” he simply says, reminding her to call him that. He had requested the same thing at the crime scene. It was unprofessional, but seeing as how they are both chained up in the back of a van, she could make an exception.

He’s staring at her again. No, not staring more like ogling. She was used to men admiring her figure, but it somehow felt different when he did it. She felt exposed and a little turned on by the glint in his eyes. Her face feels hotter than it was a second ago and she catches his eyes as they run from her calves to her chest and then stop at her face. He’s not even being subtle about it. Is he trying to flirt with her?

Suddenly, his face becomes more serious, his gaze penetrating. “Melinda,” he murmurs. “Melinda…..Melinda May. You…..never told me your first name.”

The way he says her name so deeply, it’s like she’s heard him say that before. She knew it was impossible, yet it felt so familiar. Maybe they had met before. “Well…you did say that you thought we knew each other,” she reminds him. “Yea. I can’t figure out from where. I just feel like I know you.”  His eyes go back to darting around the van, nervously. “Has your life ever felt off? Like something was missing?” she blurts out. Where did that even come from? His eyes snap to hers once again. “All of the time,” he confesses. “Mine too,” she admits, eyes dropping to his chest, afraid to keep staring into his eyes. She may say something else that she doesn’t plan on admitting.

His shirt must’ve spread apart from his struggle against the steel bonds. She can see a fraction of his chest peeking out. He has an odd patch of skin near the spot where his heart should be. It appears to be scar tissue. “What happened….there?” She normally wouldn’t be so intrusive, but she can’t stand the way he is staring at her anymore. They had to change the subject. Maybe he would start babbling about some heart surgery that he had to get two years ago or how a cat scratched his chest. She’d listen to him drone on and on about anything as long as it got him to stop looking at her like that. His head drops to his chest, searching for what she is referring to. It takes him over a minute to respond. “I….I don’t….know,” he whispers. “You don’t know?” she asks, thoroughly confused. How could he not know? It is his own chest. There was scar tissue from some type of trauma. How could he genuinely not know what happened to his own body? “I…..I’ve never thought about it. It’s always been there but I’ve never…,” he stammers, clearly equally as confused. “Tahiti,” he announces. “What?”  Tahiti is a vacation destination. Why is he bringing that up now? “Tahiti…,” he repeats with more confidence this time. “What about it?”

“I don’t know. When you asked about the scar….the first thing I think of is Tahiti.”

// An image of a woman with dark hair thrown into a ponytail, dark circles under her eyes, and a deep frown on her face pops into May’s head.

“Melinda, he thinks that he’s been in Tahiti,” the woman says, almost hesitantly while touching her arm in a gesture of comfort.

“What?” May asks. To hear that Fury messed with Phil’s brain broke her heart.

“When they fixed him, they implanted memories of being on vacation in Tahiti….instead of……,” the woman trails off.

“Being dead,” May says simply. Phil was dead for almost a week and they brought him back. Now, she had to pretend that her best friend hadn’t been lying in a morgue for days, that she hadn’t attended his funeral, and that she hadn’t made herself sick with regret every night.

She had to pretend that she didn’t lose the man that she loves. //

What the hell was that?

She opens her mouth to tell him what she just saw, but is interrupted by the van doors being swung open.

The images leave her mind immediately. Her only thought now is of rescue.

//tbc//

I’m annoyed that May isn’t the director of HYDRA in the show. She’s always sad. She better get some happiness once they get out of the framework….

Anyways: As you can see, Aida has really messed with May’s mind and guarded against reality. But, there’s hope for her and his name is Phil Coulson. When I first planned this fic this chapter was actually going to be Coulson and May both remembering everything. Haha, no. We have a ways to go. But it’s going to be fun! What do you think? Thanks for reading everyone!

[sinkingsidewalks]

A sneak peak of Crumbling Landscapes

Read up on AO3

She didn’t quite expect it to hurt this much. Obviously she knew it would be painful, she tried to prepare for any possibility of what, or who, she’d be approaching. Based on her death date, it was pretty obvious he wouldn’t know her.

But to look into his eyes and find no recognition there, it wrenches her heart from her chest. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen it before, even back when they were shy teenagers at the academy, he knew who she was before the reverse. He watched her, even back then, a careful inquisition in his eyes, one that she originally pegged as competition.

This though, this is the intrigue of a stranger on the street. 

It’s worse because she’s become so accustomed to his gaze. She’s familiar with every facet of it, the glowing awe when she gets to a solution first, the joy when they work a theory, back and forth, the warmth there when he tells her he loves her, the heat as he kisses her, as he works open the buttons of her shirt, his hands on her bare skin.

She can still see the worry in his eyes when he told her to be careful in the basement of that submarine base. Worry born of love and need and the too many times that the universe has crossed out their path. It was the last thing the real him said to her, she hadn’t realized it until they were on the Zephyr, on their way towards Elena, but that’s the last time she truly saw him.

The problem is, despite it all, she can see his appeal. However foreign his gaze is it still sends butterflies whirling in her stomach, still sends a rush of heat to her chest. He’s still Fitz, even with the cocky smile and the slightly too Hitler youth-esque hair style, she’s still attracted to him. And, based on his expression, the feeling is entirely mutual. 

Oh, how Daisy would kill her if she slept with him like this.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Counterpart [5/5]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Words: 6k | AO3

A/N: Incase people are unfamiliar, The Red Guardian is the soviet equivalent of Captain America. I was going to use Alexei Shostakov in this chapter but I ended up using him in AFWHI so instead, I went with Tania Belinsky. In the end, I liked how having Steve fight Tania emphasised the darker nature of Framework!Steve. And yes, I admit, some parts were rushed (serves me right for planning a short series with too much potential to draw from!) but fear not, there’s an epilogue.

Note: this chapter acts as the spin-off opening chapter for The Liberators. Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in that going forward.

Warnings: This chapter contains language, violence, oral sex (public-ish...), kinda voyeurism if a figment of someone's imagination counts, torture, etc. It’s a dark series, expect a darker take.

Song: Stay Alive by Hidden Citizens.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE CHOICE

~

The light fixture above sparked, bulbs exploding from the residual energy rippling off Wanda’s charged aura. Several unconscious bodies lay haphazardly on the floor in no discernible pattern. The door barricaded by debris, upon debris, until there was barely a peephole to look through to the other side.

Exhausted, Wanda fell onto the glass panels of the submersion tanks, a dark rivulet of blood gradually meandering from her nose, the glow of her eyes fizzling out like a gyroscopic disco light.

"Boss, are you okay?" Friday asked after a beat of deafening silence.

Wanda heaved, sweat matting her hair to her cheeks, "I just… I need to catch my breath is all." She glanced over to the tank which housed Y/N, her fingers dusting over the glass as a weak smile crept over her tired face.

"I'll keep them safe," she swore to herself, to the universe.

The sound of a plasma cannon being charged behind the wall of debris worried Wanda, but as much as she wanted to stand, and stay focused, she could barely keep her eyes open. She was past her threshold now, slipping away into unconsciousness. Whether she liked it or not, she was out of commission.

"Friday," her voice was soft, breathy. "How… long?"

"They've been in there a little over eight hours, boss," the program’s Irish lilt was like an unintended lullaby to Wanda's ears.

"We… still… have… time…" her mind was dragged into the clutches of sleep, her hand slipping away from the glass.

    Your body shook violently, it felt like you were in the middle of a seizure, unable to control your limbs or the sheer quantity of neurotransmitters that flooded your brain, drenching it into a pool of anxiety.

"Hey, shh, shh," Steve tried to soothe your panic attack away, hands bracing your head and lower spine as you grabbed onto his jacket.

A few junior agents had caught wind of the commotion and stalled on their way to their desks, prompting Steve to sneer at them, "What the hell are you looking at? Move along!"

Feet scurried after that and the dial had been turned back up, now you could hear the usual bustle of the office space flow around you uninterrupted.

"Come on babe, let's calm you down," Steve pulled you off the ground and walked you towards the med bay. He placed you on one of the empty beds, sealing the room shut with a protocol override thanks to his higher clearance.

"Hey, babe, look at me," his hands pulled your face away from your chin. "Good, that's a good girl," he smiled, worry clearly showing in his assertive tone. "Now breathe, just like me."

Steve took a deep breath with his nose and let out a long exhale through this mouth, pads of his thumbs rubbing at your cheek as he encouraged you to do as he did.

Slowly, you mimicked his actions, letting each breath erase the shuddering of your jaw and the rapid hammering beneath your ribs. Swallowing hard after each interval.

"There you go," Steve's grip never softened, he was your rock through the tumultuous storm, rubbing circles on your uncomfortably tight spine.

"I- I think I'm okay now," you whispered softly, hands unclenching from his jacket leaving deep crinkles around the expensive leather.

He pulled up a chair, "What happened to you in there?"

"Honestly," you chuckled with uncertainty. "I don't know. One minute I'm ready to crack skulls and then the next I'm..." you trailed off, a sinking feeling warning you that he might not believe what you had to say.

"What?" his eyes were soft and understanding, this was the gentler side of him that few got the pleasure of seeing.

"I started seeing things, like memories, only…" your hands fidgeted, the urge to bite your nails was strong. “They weren't my memories." A shudder crept through you. You turned to look at the Hydra sigil tiled onto the floor. "Sometimes I feel like nothing is real." You admitted.

Steve stood, his hands massaging your neck in languid strokes, his beard tickling your skin as he brought his lips to caress the sensitive flesh. Your head shot back, eyelashes batting rapidly before finally closing as you bit your lip.

"Does this feel real?"

You gasped as his lips moved lower, his hand moving to the underside of your breast placing a strong grip over the curve of your ribs that guarded your heart.

"Yes," you whimpered.

"And what about this?" his hand grazed a nipple through the light material of your dress shirt, tongue lapping at your skin letting the air cool it so it prickled with sensual energy.

"Hmm," you bit your lip harder.

Steve brought his lips to crush over yours, coaxing a moan out as he massaged the top of your spine with his other hand.

"It's been a stressful few days," his voice was laced with lust, hand moving to pop open the button on your jeans. "Let me take some of that stress away."

He pushed your body down, spreading your legs as he dragged the chair closer so his face was aligned with your thighs, his thumbs hooking over your belt loops, tugging them down ferociously.

You gasped and his laugh carried across the exposed flesh of your inner thigh, hands slipping underneath you to cup your ass and raise your legs so he could trail kisses from your knee to the apex of your thigh. His breath was hot against your lace panties.

"Steve," you gasped, trying to get lost in the moment, but for every sensual sensation running through you, causing your legs to shake with want, your brain kept playing back a song like a recorder stuck on a loop. The image of another man laying over you, being deep inside you, as his hair tickled your breasts with every thrust, fogged your senses. His steely blue eyes matching the man in the interrogation room. Making you feel ashamed of thinking of another man while your husband lavished ay your moistening core.

You squinted, trying to drive those foreign images away, fingers digging into Steve's hair, nudging him further into your core.

He complied, suckling at your clit through the lacy fabric, eliciting another gasp from your lips. The pressure from Steve's mouth pulled blood around your bud, making it become engorged with desire. You grew more sensitive with every lap of his tongue and every nibble of his teeth, crying from pleasure, unashamed that anyone passing by would clearly be able to see the two of you participating in lewd acts if they walked past the semi-translucent door.

Steve's tongue was like a salve for the ache milking you internally and as much as you just wanted to lay there and let your senses go haywire, the more you lost control under his touch, the more your mind wondered.

The ghost, that damned ghost with his perfect eyes and his long silky hair and brooding disposition, came to life in the dark recesses of your subconscious.

Steve finally stripped your panties free and you wiggled into his touch, pushing your hips downwards so his tongue could fill your entrance as he stroked, suckled and devoured you.

"Steve..." you moaned with pleasure and that drove him wild. His hands palmed your ass as his fervour increased. Soon he was fingering you at an unbearable pace while he returned his mouth to your clit. The knot in your stomach began to coil tighter and tighter and tighter.

"Say my name," the ghost whispered.

You snapped your head to the side and defiantly mewled Steve's name again.

"Say. My. Name." it was too light to be a threat, but the edge present in those words made you quake and soon you were unravelling, juices seeping into Steve's hungry mouth.

"Steve… St-Steve, ahh!" You came harder, the climax far from over.

A cold shiver spread from your ear lobe all the way to your aorta and deeper within. The ghost closer than before, close enough to smell his scent and feel his warmth, spoke out again, "Say my name."

You whimpered, the final wave of your climax washing over you as you bit into the pillow and whimpered, cracked voice feather-light, "Bucky..."

When you opened your eyes and you saw Steve stand from between your legs licking his fingers like some starved wolf. A devilish grin hiding under his beard.

What the hell did I just say? You questioned yourself as you looked into the reflective surface of a heartbeat monitor. Your own eyes taunting you, a clear window into your fractured mind.

The ghost stood behind you, a smile of triumph on his face.

"You remember me," he said.

You turned in the direction of the ghost’s reflection, but all you saw were curtains and medical equipment. You glanced back at the monitor wearily, a migraine beginning to form. You flinched from the pain, your thoughts telling you to take another pill.

"The pain is a good thing," the ghost said. "It means you're fighting this world," he crossed over to face you now, had hovering close to your radiating skin. "Fighting this lie…" his hand hovered lower, close to your chin. “Come back to me."

"Y/N?" Steve's voice tore through the apparition and your focus was pulled back to his face. "You still with me?"

You stared dumbfounded for a moment, before pulling up your pants and switching positions with Steve, a menacing smirk asserting itself over your features.

If it took being numbed to the rest of the world by Steve’s incendiary touch in order to get the ghost to leave, then you weren't averse to spending a few more minutes in this room with him.

"Perfect," you replied as you got on your knees and freed his pulsing member. "Now, it's time for me to help you relax."

You took him in your mouth and he pulled at your hair possessively, pushing you down further until you felt his tip knocking at your uvula.

You let his scent fill you. The musk of his pure desire was overwhelming, a sensory overload that turned your mind into a blank sheet, white with static and nothingness. You savoured the quiet, the lack of discord, as you pleasured him with the same enthusiasm he had used on you. Steve’s ringed finger entwined with yours as he whispered through pleasured grunts, “God, I love you.”

You wanted to say ‘I love you’ too, but for some reason, it never resonated as completely true.

 After you and Steve got cleaned up, the infirmary doors were overridden and a short but plucky looking woman walked in, her professional glower making her look older than she was.

"You mind telling me why two of my operatives locked themselves inside the med bay so they could play house instead of interrogating our prisoner?" she tapped her heels on the ground, pointing to the cameras. “You know we could see everything down in control, right?”

You cursed under your breath and Steve held back a playful chuckle.

"Executive Director Lewis," he informally saluted. “I was simply easing my wi- Uhem, I mean Agent Rogers here out of her panic attack.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at the two of you.

"Ma'am," you hid your blush by keeping your eyes on the Hydra sigil on the floor.

"Spare me the ass-kissing, get your asses into that interrogation room and make that little piggy squeal. I want to know everything he knows. It's been nearly four years since we last spotted the Canary, and I don't want to screw anything up now that he's in our custody after you failed to bring him in last time, Rogers!"

"I’ll get right on that ma'am," Steve strode out of the room.

"Darcy, hun, I've been looking for you everywhere," Clint jogged over, motioning to place a kiss on her cheek. She pulled away, a firm hand pressed to his sternum.

"That's Executive Director during work hours, Clint."

"Oh, right. Not in the workplace," he clicked his tongue. "Your father- err, the Director, wanted to see you." Clint thumbed at the doorway.

Darcy side-eyed you for a moment, a warning shot your way, “Be more discrete next time, agent.” She sauntered out of sight.

"Whew!" Clint pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Crisis averted. You owe me for the rescue, kiddo. The 'ol ball and chain can be a bit of a ball basher." He smirked.

"Thanks, Clint," you exhaled as you walked past him. "How did you know we were about to get a major tongue lashing from Control?"

“You know she hates that nick-name.” Clint laughed, "Her vein does this thing next to her left eye when she's about to chew someone out. I figured you would be the only one reckless enough to incur her wrath after that fiasco a few days ago."

You shook your head, "You two will never stop being an enigma to me."

"What can I say, she had me at 'What the hell do you think you're doing Agent Barton?'." His long gait caused him to turn around and talk to you while walking backwards. "Now, let’s go play good cop, bad cop and observer cop!"

 You watched from the other side of the one-way mirror as Steve bloodied his knuckles bombarding the imprisoned man’s face with brutal blow after brutal blow. One of his eyes was already discolouring, the skin turning puffy.

"Well, old friend," Steve's fist connected with his mentalis muscle, splitting the skin on his cheek so blood flowed down to his neck and below in a dark red stream. "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting to see you again." Steve flashed his canines in a dishevelling smile.

Bucky's muscles reflexively shook, his eyes staring into Steve's face as though he were looking up at a stranger.

You rubbed at your arms, the hairs sticking up. You hated seeing this side of Steve, it felt… wrong. You couldn't believe this was the same man who held you each night. The same man you married. The same man you were raising a daughter with.

You glanced down at your ring, the metal still cold and unfamiliar to you.

Clint was quiet, not his usual wise-cracking self, as he looked on, watching Steve work.

"That doesn't belong there," the ghost appeared beside you. You chose to ignore it. "That's why it still feels cold no matter how long you wear it. Odd isn't it. That's not how metal and heat work."

You wrung your ear, hoping the scuffling sounds would drown out the imposing presence that bore the same face as the man in the interrogation room –they like some form of twisted doppelgangers, only one was tangible the other was incorporeal.

"Whoever you think I am," Bucky stated, a wetness to his voice. "I'm not him. Just like how you're not my best friend."

Steve cocked his head to the side, his knuckle lodging itself into Bucky's hard stomach, "What, no happy tears for your old pal?"

Blood splattered out of his mouth, "My best friend would never allow himself to be anyone’s bruiser, especially not Hydra."

"Tell me, Canary… how's the view up there on your high horse?" Steve pulled Bucky's head back, roughly. "Does it make this sting any less?" He brought his knee to Bucky's nose, an uncomfortable crunch filling the space.

"Jesus," Clint whispered. "I knew these two had unfinished business, but I've never seen anyone get under the Captain's skin like this before." 

You shivered, finding it hard to swallow. "We're getting nowhere with these tactics." You raced out of the room, bursting into the adjacent room with great speed.

Steve's head craned to yours, unhappy with your disturbance. "Leave." He barked.

"Give me five minutes with him."

"I'm in the middle of something," he was seething.

"And I was his original interrogator," you bit back. "Give. Me. Five."

Grinding his teeth, Steve let go of Bucky's head roughly before complying with your request -albeit begrudgingly.

 You placed a wet cloth on Bucky's face, he instinctively leaned into your touch, and it startled you how right that felt. You jumped back slightly.

"Don't be afraid of me," he told you, his eyes still warm despite the bruised flesh forcing his eyelids closer together.

"I'm not," you answered truthfully.

"Then don't be afraid of yourself."

How did he know? You pondered. Does he really know me? Do I know him?

"James…" you placed the cloth back on his jaw. “That’s your name isn't it?"

"Bucky. My friends call me Bucky."

Your mind flashed back to the med bay where you whispered that very name into a pillow as you climaxed around Steve's face. You pressed your legs together, forcing yourself to stay in the present.

"Earlier, you said your plan worked. That you wanted to be here, to be in the same room as me…Why is that?"

He leaned his head forward and you applied pressure to the gash on his chin, "Isn't it obvious? I came back for you. I'd cross universes for you. And I did."

"I don't know you," you lied.

"Yes you do, I can see it in your eyes. You remember me. I know a part of you does, otherwise, why did you run away when you saw me."

Steve knocked on the door, growing impatient.

You held up five fingers before turning your attention back to the bloody and beaten man in front of you.

"Come back to me," he pleaded, leaning into your touch some more. "You're the last good thing in my life and I should have told you that every morning we woke up and every night we went to bed. You mean everything to me. You are my world. I love you."

Warning! Memories desynchronizing...

Searing, hot pain shot through your veins and you were repelled backwards by the forceful pounding at your temples. You cried out, vision turning to shit. Your instincts telling you to fight the pain, to make the screaming stop, but then you remembered what the ghost had said -what the phantom Bucky had told you.

The pain is a good thing. It means you're fighting this world.

You couldn't say for certain why you chose to listen to him, why you chose to embrace the pain. Maybe it was because your ring always felt cold and foreign on your ring finger, maybe it was because there was nothing but discord rupturing within you unless Steve was touching you, or maybe it was because you had finally lost your fucking marbles. Either way, you picked yourself up off the floor, upholstered your gun and fired off two shots. One pierced the camera. The other broke the chains that bound Bucky to the chair.

"I knew you'd remember," he wrapped his arms around you in a hug, the metal of his arm not nearly as cold as the metal on your ring finger. A second later, Steve kicked in the door.

"Reunion time later, let’s get us out of here," you told Bucky as you aimed your gun at Steve, the memories of both worlds mixing to form a muddle of confusion in your brain.

"What the hell are you doing Y/N? Have you lost your mind?" Steve barked with disbelief.

You shrugged, planting a bullet in his thyroid, "No. I've found it."

Bucky used the jagged edge of the chain to dig something out of his arm, it was small and cylindrical with a red tip. He pressed it and a red LED started to flash from the tip. He extended his arm to you, a look of faith in his eyes that you'd forgotten was once a constant in your life. "Do you trust me?"

Your memories were still a mess and you felt torn, almost like two people were trying to live inside one body, but you also felt confident and when you clasped your hand in his, you felt safe for what seemed like the first time in a decade. "I don't know. But I know I'll be safe as long as you're by my side."

He smiled, running out of the room with you in tow, Steve biting back grunts of pain as he rushed after you.

***

"Congratulations, Agent Carter," Darcy handed her a new shiny badge that smelled of newly tanned leather and chromium. "You're officially promoted to active duty. Now you can finally step out from behind your ex-husband's shadow." She laughed darkly.

Sharon looked down at the badge, lacklustre expression making Darcy cock her head to the side. "Don't look at this as anything other than what it is. You deserve that badge and I'm proud to stand beside you as the newest member of the Syndicate."

"Agent 13?" Sharon read the designation below her name.

Darcy chuckled, "The Syndicate has a flare for the dramatic. Everyone uses call signs while out in the field." Darcy pulled out her own badge. "Since I'm the one pulling the strings in the dark, they took to calling me Control. Ridiculous, granted, but you'd be surprised how useful an alter ego is in our business of hunting subservients."

"When will I meet the rest of the team?"

"They're currently off base, but they should be arriving shortly for your inauguration," Darcy glanced at her watch.

Suddenly, the alarm blared overhead, yellow warning lights turning the walls into a nauseating colour.

"What the fuck?" Darcy groaned, head craned to the spinning lights. She pressed down on her earpiece, her tone authoritative and scary. "This is Control, what the fuck is going on in my building?"

"Ma'am, it seems agent Rogers has defected," a junior agent replied over the comms.

"Steve?" Darcy asked.

Sharon's eyes narrowed, her grip bending the badge at the sides slightly.

"Negative Ma'am. Agent Y/N."

"Son of a bitch," Darcy marched to her office.

"What's going on?" Sharon stammered.

"We have a subservient in our midst. Your ex-husband's wife just tried to break out the Canary. Get your ass to the tenth floor, I have a feeling this is a fight you might want to get in on."

"Where are you going?"

"To assemble the Syndicate and get Clint his sword."

***

"Come on partner, let's talk about this," Clint hurled pens at you with the accuracy of a ninja. Several ballpoint tips embedded themselves into the desk you'd flipped to the side for cover.

You shot off defensive shots, making sure to miss any vital organs, he dodged them easily, rolling to another point of cover. "I've seen how you hash things out, Clint. I'm not a fool."

“Oh, now don’t be like that.”

Bucky blocked several bullets hailing from a line of agents, the ping noise showering around him in hurried succession. Steve pushed several desks out of his way as he stalked towards the two of you.

"Y/N, honey, whatever's gotten into you, we can work it out. You aren't yourself," he hurled a desk at Bucky and his metal arm punched through it, cracking it in half. "You're sick, baby. A side effect of the medication. Think about us. Think about Sarah."

You froze and Clint managed to get a shot in at your arm, the pen piercing your flesh like a blunt needle.

"Arrghhh!" You ducked lower, pulling Bucky's shirt down. "Where the fuck is your back up?"

Bucky glanced at his watch, the countdown putting him on edge. "They should be here."

"Y/N, why are you helping him? You know who he is, who he used to work for. He's a traitor. If you turn yourself over now, I'll make sure Pierce and Lewis don't press charges," Steve assured you as he picked up a desk chair and hauled it at Bucky.

Bucky dodged to the side, his eyes landing on Steve's as they were face to face. Steve placed a strong hand on Bucky's shoulder and Bucky, in turn, spun out of his grip and twisted his arm around his back.

Steve groaned through gritted teeth as he head-butted Bucky in the nose. Disoriented and in pain, Bucky stumbled backwards and Steve's fist was about to drive a right hook into his off-balance body when a blur of blue and silver whooshed past, taking Bucky with it.

"Wha-" You searched the room for any sight of the blur or Bucky, but there was nothing except an over imposing sense of confusion hanging in the air.

Clint lobbed one more pen your way and in a flash, the blur returned, removing the projectile from its flight path. Pietro looked down at you, a dastardly smile on his face as he sent a wink your way, twirling the pen between two fingers. "Hey."

“Hey.”

And then he was gone.

Out of a hidden corner, a shower of pens were hurled at a mass of agents, including Clint, and they all hit their mark successfully. Cries of pain emanated out just when Bucky appeared behind Steve's back to heave him over his shoulder in a body slam. Something in Steve's shoulder popped and you could see the bulge of a bone sticking out of alignment as he rolled off of Bucky.

Glass shattered from the windows as a helicopter lifted to your floor, Sam at the helm with Natasha gripping a semi-automatic. Her bullets piercing through the air and ripping through several enemy agents.

While Steve and Bucky came to blows, your gaze fell on Sharon, who was pointing a gun at you, a torn expression drawing her eyebrows down. It was a silent stalemate and you dared not flinch.

Off the helicopter, a large woman with the biggest muscles you had ever seen crashed into Clint, sending him flying like he was made of papier-mâché and crashing against Steve. The Black Panther suit maundered over several desks to take on a multitude of junior agents with little effort on their part.

"T'Challa?" you whispered causing the person to crane their neck so swiftly it would have given anyone whiplash. It was then you saw the person in the black suit had a small bust and a feminine frame. This wasn’t T’Challa, it was someone else, a fragment of your mind that was attuned to the Framework remembered that T’Challa had been killed in an explosion years prior. “Shuri…” you uttered softly and she nodded in place of a verbal reply.

"Fuck, that is one strong lady," Clint struggled to stand and out of the elevator, Darcy sauntered over, no fear in her eyes as she called out Clint's name and tossed him his swords. "Thanks, honey!" he replied as he unsheathed his katana.

Spectre materialised out of the wall and shot a plasma beam at Shuri, sending her flying through cubicles. Her vibranuim armour caused a bubble of energy to erupt from the point of contact. Papers, files and electronic components were cast through the air by the static cushion.

Pietro sped over to her side, catching her from mid-air and stopping her momentum. With a snarl, he charged after Spectre but was hit by one of Clint’s throwing stars. Shuri retaliated, pouncing onto Clint, her extended claws sparking fiery lights as they came in contact with his sword.

Sharon was still standing there, unable to move.

A few blocks down, a beam of light shot up into the sky like a beacon.

Sam shouted from the helicopter, "That's our signal, we gotta go!"

Sharon lowered her gun, looing between you, Sam and Bucky, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of what everything meant. “One day at a time…”

Darcy barked order's into her comms, "Warmonger handle that fucking chopper!"

"Where is he?" Shuri demanded through each slice and swipe, her Wakandan accent still thick.

Clint parried with an expert’s stance, "Where is who?"

"Peter Parker!" She growled back.

Clint swiped his leg under her and she somersaulted away, "I have no clue, kid."

A sniper got a shot off from a distance, clipping Steve's side just as he was about to get his hands around Bucky's neck, the residual force made him stumble backwards allowing Bucky rush to your side.

"We have to go, Y/N!" He gripped your shoulder. "Now!"

You looked to Sharon and suddenly her face was taken over by something, a kind of steeled determination. Then she lifted her gun and turned against her own people, aiding you and Bucky so you could make a break for it. You exchanged curt nods before you got out from behind cover and raced towards the helicopter.

"Agent Carter, what are you doing?" Darcy spat in anger.

Behind Sharon, Ava Starr materialised through the walls, stalking towards her unsuspecting prey, the shimmer of her invisibility cloak giving away her position. Shuri pounced on her, releasing an electrical spike into the ground, frying her cloaking tech.

"Uh, guys, I don't know if you have any tricks up your sleeve, but we've got a bogey incoming," Sam shouted as a small humanoid flying object left jet trails through the sky.

"Warmonger..." you gasped out.

Spectre charged his plasma beam and you instantly released Bucky's hand so you could tackle him, sending the both of you tumbling until you were mere inches from falling out of the ten-story window.

Natasha fired off her weapon at Warmonger, failing to get a shot in. She braced for impact right when a man in a winged suit clutched onto Warmonger with his claw-like feet and used his momentum to swing him into the opposite building, accidentally banging into the tail end of the helicopter in the process.

Natasha was shaken from her post and sent tumbling into the building, her eyes locking instantly on Clint's. They stared at each other with menace, an unresolved vendetta clearly hanging over them like an open wound doused in salt and spirits. They were both frothing at the mouth as they charged after each other.

“Romanoff,” he said with venom. “I’ve been dying to cross paths with you again.”

Natasha struck him in the face with a roundhouse kick, “Its Romanova! And you’ll pay for what you did to me!”

Pietro rushed to your aid when he saw you struggling to gain the upper hand with Spectre, but a minute insect-like creature whacked into his cheek, sending him hurtling backwards once it resized into a full-grown woman wearing a hornet-like suit.

You scrambled towards the helicopter, Warmonger and the Vulture coming to blows in the air a few blocks away. Bucky's metal arm wrapped around one of the Hornet's wings and pulled, ripping it from her back in a brutish manner. She screamed as though the wing was part of her.

The large Russian woman struck Steve with her shoulder, pushing him further away from you. He easily broke her hold and landed several tight formation blows to her sternum and ribs letting out cracking sounds. She gasped through the breaks and Steve forced to her up from her knees in a gruelling show of unbridled rage.

"Belinsky!" Natasha screamed after her.

Steve held her up off the ground until her feet dangled. Even though they were of similar build, Steve barely broke a sweat as he held her up, his lips curling up into a smile the more she struggled.

Another slug ripped through his cheek, turning his head from the force and lacerating it in a straight line. Yet still, Steve's grip held strong and the woman -Belinsky- clawed for breath.

Shuri tried to get to her but was obstructed by Ghost phasing ahead of her, Sharon fired off several shots to pry an opening but was kicked square in the stomach by a stiletto belonging to Darcy. Pietro was preoccupied with trying to draw Spectre's line of fire away from everyone else while Natasha and Clint were locked in a matched battle. You cursed at the harrowing realisation that you and Bucky were too far away to make a difference.

"Don't do it, Steve!" You begged, the chopper muffling your desperate pleas.

Natasha reached for Belinsky but Clint sliced through her calf muscle, making her slip to the ground.

Steve peered over at you and Bucky, the veins in his arms pulsing with adrenaline, his pupil’s dark and diluted. His smile grew into a grin and your breath halted as he twisted her neck too far, the cracking sound ringing through the pandemonium of screams, bullets and chopper blades.

"No!" Pietro cried, stalling for a moment, allowing Spectre to drill a hole through his shoulder with the plasma beam. Shuri scurried to his side and yanked him to safety, leaving Sharon to face off with Ghost and Darcy. Natasha crawled towards the limp Russian woman, choking back tears, a scream tearing through her when she finally placed two fingers on Belinsky’s non-responsive pulse points.

"What have we done?" you gasped as Bucky dragged you to the helicopter, a hail of bullets firing at Spectre from the building across from you, drawing the android's attention away from Shuri.

Steve grabbed a discarded gun from the floor and fired at Sam, one bullet piercing his gut, forcing the helicopter to swerve just as you and Bucky jumped.

The plasma cannon broke through the barricade and Wanda, who still too weak to stand, tried to summon her powers but all she achieved was a flicker of her irises. As armed men scuttled into the room, she closed both her eyes, the look of peace and fatigue battling for dominance.

If she was going to go, at least she'd die amongst friends.

The sound of guns being cocked drummed into her ears and she took a small breath waiting for the inevitable to occur. Just when she thought it was all about to be over, a stark light exploded around her and out of the light came a suit of red and gold armour.

"Stark?" she mumbled in her delusional state.

"Half-right," Pepper answered as she took on the gunmen. She raised her hands, lights from the triangle power core charging up as she braced her stance. "This suit does have under-water capabilities."

You applied pressure to Sam's chest as his lung threatened to collapse.

"Shit, hurry Bucky!" You blared into the headset as Bucky took over the reins of the chopper and flew you towards the beacon of light.

"Hold on Sam," you ran your hand against his cheek in a comforting motion, sniffling your tears away.

"We're almost there Bird-man," Bucky looked back, his brow heavy with worry. "Hold on, man!"

Sam gritted his teeth, holding back his painful snarl as more blood soaked through the compress and seeped onto the diamond implanted in your ring, slipping between the cracks and turning the carbon stone blood red.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you let the harsh winds carry your words away from Sam's ears. "This is all my fault." You could feel his skin growing colder, his lips turning near white and all you could do was pray.

When the helicopter touched down, Bucky grabbed Sam and slung him over his shoulder, hobbling with him towards the beacon tunnelling through the ground like concentrated sunlight.

Out of your blindside, Steve's shield whirred past, striking Bucky's legs and fracturing the bone.

Bucky dropped Sam as he fell forward. It was then that you realised Sam's chest wasn't moving, it was agonizingly still. Bucky failed to stand on one leg, the throbbing pain from his shattered bones forcing him to bite down.

You turned around and saw Steve and Warmonger stride towards you.

"Steve, wait," you raised your hands.

Bucky dragged Sam on one leg towards the portal, Warmonger languidly stalked after them, biding his time, building the tension.

"Should I kill ‘em Cap?" Rhodey's voice became clear once his helmet was removed.

Steve looked at you and then back at the Bucky’s hopeless labouring to get Sam into the beam of light. "Not yet, I want them to struggle."

"Steve, please!" You caressed his cheek so he could look to you. "I know you're better than this. I know that some part of you doesn't want to be this man..."

He smiled, weakly, his fingers touching the love bite he had made on your skin in the med bay. "And to think, everything had been so different an hour ago." His hand braced around your neck with no pressure applied, at first. But then he began to squeeze, forcing you backwards. "How long have you been a spy? How long have you been planning on betraying me?" he screamed.

"St-Steve… It's not… It's not like that," you rasped.

He slammed you into a wall, hard. "No? I gave up everything for you. I left Sharon for you. Tore Sarah away from her mother! And for what? So you could betray me the first chance you got?"

"Let her go, Steve!" Bucky shouted out, a few inches from the portal, his metal arm braced around the unconscious, barely breathing Sam.

"Bucky… get… Sam… out… of… here!" You ordered.

"Not without you!"

You turned your eyes to him, neck stiffly held by Steve's tightening grip, a tear running down your cheek. "You already saved me. Now… save him!"

Warmonger kneeled over Bucky, his shoulder turret aimed at his chest. "Say bye, bye birdy."

Bucky shed tears of his own, his chin quivering, "I love you." he said, oceanic eyes falling to you as he stuck a hidden blade into Rhodey's neck and hoisted himself and Sam over into the portal.

You shut your eyes, "I know..."

Bucky's arm broke through the glass, landing on both his feet as the water pushed him out of the tank and spilt onto the electrical equipment.

"Bucky?" Wanda breathed, her eyes drooping from exhaustion.

Without a second to lose, he broke through the glass of Sam's tank, the beep of a flat line haunting his senses as he laid his friend on the ground and started chest compressions.

"One, two, three..." he forced air into Sam's lungs. “One, two, three." He repeated the action.

"Come on, you're more stubborn than this!" His flesh arms pounded on Sam’s chest desperately.

"Is… Is he?" Pepper failed to finish her question, her face obstructed behind an earlier prototype helmet of the Iron Man suit.

"Come on!" He cried out. "I can't lose anyone else." He beat limply at the rigid chest.

Wanda crawled towards Sam's body, the red mist trickling out around her fingers weakly. She hovered her hand over Sam's chest and concentrated. Her breathing turned ragged, strained from overuse, and with a yell, she discharged what little energy she had left into Sam's body, an electrostatic charge bursting outward, shaking his limbs.

At first, there was nothing, and dread loomed near, but then Bucky felt the faint beating of a heartbeat below his open palm.

Sam coughed out water, his eyelids pulling back slowly.

They all sighed in relief.

"Did… did we make it?" Sam asked.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, we made it."

"What about Y/N?"

Bucky's smile faded as he slumped against the wall. "She was right behind me, but then… Steve found us. He… he got to her. I… I couldn't save her." He braced his head as tears finally fell. “She wanted me to get you out.”

"No..." Wanda looked up at her best friend, still submerged in a tank. "No, I refuse to believe that. She's strong. She'll make it out of there."

Pepper walked over to the tank, reading the vitals on display. "Her heartbeat is erratic. She's in a heightened state of stress. She may go into cardio-vascular shock."

Bucky’s metal arm crushed the ring that was strung around his neck, the pathetic sound of the metal bending distracting him from the empty feeling gnawing in his gut.

They stared at the tank, waiting patiently with bated breath for her to open her eyes and return to them –return to her family.

 ***

Epilogue coming soon...

AFWHI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader  @

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

Tags: @ladybugsfanfics @ninaminaromina @xstevenat