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The quinjet was dead quiet—well not exactly quiet, just dead. The mechanical hum of the engine was the only thing disturbing the silence. The mission had taken a toll on all of them. Bucky was slouched in his seat, his shoulders hunched, talking with Yelena in a low voice, both of them looking like they hadn’t blinked in hours. Alexei had finally shut up for once, a miracle in and of itself.
John was sitting stiff in his seat, arms crossed tightly across his chest, eyes staring straight ahead into what looked like nothing—but knowing him, he was probably watching everything, cataloguing every broken expression on every exhausted face.
None of them had taken it worse than Ava though.
She hadn’t said a word since they left the now blown-up facility. Not one. And, well, no one could blame her either.
The mission was a relatively simple one—at least, that’s what Val had said. Blow up a facility still holding classified remnants of her failed OXE projects. Wipe the data, torch the place, and bring back any hardware that hadn’t already turned to rust. Clean. Routine. Easy even.
It wasn’t.
They’d completed the objective. Facility gone, hard drives secured. But they hadn’t expected the kid. A little girl—no older than eight, Ava had estimated—small, sickly, sunken eyes blinking slowly behind the glass of a locked containment room. Not a hostage. No. A test subject. Probably the last one left.
Ava had tried to save her. God, she’d tried. She banged on the glass, tried to override the locks, tried to phase them both out. But the bombs were already rigged, and she was running out of time . Her escape plan?—well it would only work for her.
Her phasing was still too unstable, too unpredictable. She hadn’t figured out how to phase other objects yet. Let alone another person.
So when the time came, She left.
Left a child behind in a burning building.
She’d barely made it out in time herself. Collapsed to her knees the second her boots hit solid ground, the light from the fire glowing in her vision as the facility exploded behind her like the sky itself was falling.
John had run over, panic written across his face. Asked her what was wrong.
She told them—told the entire team. Voice flat. Hollow.
No one said a word after that.
Maybe because they knew it was her fault, she thought. They wouldn’t say it, but she could feel it. That awful, invisible judgment in the air. Maybe they weren’t thinking it. Maybe they were. She didn’t know which would be worse.
So now here she was, sitting in the jet. Silent. Her eyes trained on nothing, but her mind was loud. Loud with guilt, with looping thoughts, with memories of the kid’s eyes. Her stomach churned, but she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Her body felt like it was floating just a little outside of itself. Like she was still stuck somewhere in that building.
She knew she should sleep. She could feel the exhaustion pulling her under like quicksand. But she also knew that if she gave in, she’d wake up screaming. Again.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally landed back at the Watchtower.
Ava didn’t say a word to anyone. Not a nod, not a glance. Just walked straight to her room with her head down, boots echoing in the hallway.
Her room felt better. Safer. The second the door closed behind her, she stripped off the suit quickly. Every piece of it felt like it weighed more than it should. She tossed it to the corner without looking and pulled on her favorite hoodie over her pajamas.
She sank onto the edge of her bed and just… stopped. Not lying down. Not curling up. Just sitting. Back hunched, eyes unfocused, heart beating too loud in her chest.
Time moved weird after that. Minutes, maybe an hour. She wouldn’t know. Everything felt like static.
Until—knock knock knock.
Three knocks, soft and uneven.
She didn’t have to get up to know who it was.
John.
A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She’d grown to recognize his knock. He was the only person on the team who knocked with the back of his hand.
She’d been getting along with him more lately. Sure, they still bickered like toddlers on a daily basis, but he was the one person on the team who made her feel like maybe she wasn’t completely falling apart.
She finally pushed herself off the bed and opened the door.
And yep. There he was. John. Looking awkward and unsure— but what caught her off guard was what he was holding.
Two McFlurries.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice low trying to make sure he didn’t scare her off. “Thought you might need some cheering up.” He hesitated before holding one out to her. “I got you the Oreo one. It’s your favorite, right?”
Her brows furrowed in surprise. “How’d you know?” she asked quietly, taking the cold plastic cup from his hands, the chill instantly stinging her fingers.
He shrugged with a crooked smile. “You told me once. While we were watching that Russian movie Alexei made us sit through.”
She blinked. “Huh. Didn’t think you’d remember.”
He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. She noticed the way he was trying to play it cool, but the faint pink at the tips of his ears gave him away.
Her smile widened just a bit. “So… are you gonna come in? Or do you just wanna stand there like a creep?”
“Oh, yeah. Inside. Definitely,” he said quickly, almost tripping over himself as he stepped in and made a beeline for the bed.
She followed, sitting down next to him, close but not touching. Just enough space for the silence to grow again, to settle awkwardly between them like a third person in the room.
She took a bite of her McFlurry. It was nice, comfortingly familiar.
They sat there in silence for a while, the hum of the tower outside the only sound. Ava could feel it stretching too long, fraying at the edges. She was waiting for John to say something. She had a hunch he was waiting on her too.
She didn’t break first.
Finally, John cleared his throat, his voice tentative. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer right away.
So it was going to be that type of conversation.
She let out a sigh, tried to keep her voice steady even though her chest felt like it was full of glass. “I’m fine. I don’t need you worrying about me. I can handle it.”
It came out sharper than she meant it to. Too sharp.
She saw it hit him—just a flicker of something in his eyes. Hurt. She instantly regretted saying it.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry”
He nodded, offered her a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know, Aves… you don’t have to pretend to be fine all the time. It’s been rough on all of us.”
She shook her head. The laugh that bubbled up in her chest was humorless. Bitter. She wanted to scream. To cry. To punch something. Anything to make this guilt stop stabbing her chest with a thousand knives.
“John, I’m the reason that kid is dead. I should’ve done more. If I just learned how to control this stupid power, that kid might still be alive, I—”
She paused. Not because the thoughts stopped coming, but because she felt his fingers brush over her shoulder, grounding her like a tether.
She turned slightly, eyes meeting his.
His hand settled gently on her shoulder, warm and steady. His voice was low and careful. “Ava, listen to me. It’s not your fault. None of us would’ve been able to save that kid. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
Her throat tightened. The tears she’d been holding back all day welled up, hot and burning.
“I should’ve tried harder,” she whispered. “I should’ve been able to do it.”
“Don’t go there,” he said softly, thumb brushing over the seam of her hoodie. “That kind of thinking… it’ll eat you alive. You did all you could’ve done.”
She looked at him then. Really looked at him. His face was tired too—more than usual. Like he’d seen this kind of pain before and carried it with him still.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience” She muttered.
John’s jaw tensed slightly at that. He looked down at his barely touched McFlurry like it might have something to say. Ava didn’t press him—she didn’t have to. The silence was heavy enough to make her regret saying anything at all.
But then, after a long pause, he spoke.
“Yeah,” he said, quietly. “I am.”
Ava turned her head slightly toward him. He was still staring at the cup in his hands, fingers gripping the spoon tightly.
“I used to think there was always a way. That if I just moved faster, hit harder—people wouldn’t die on my watch. That I could fix anything if I just gave enough of a damn.”
He exhaled a bitter laugh through his nose, not really amused. “But I was wrong.”
Ava didn’t interrupt. She just listened.
“Lemar… was my best friend. We used to do everything together, he stuck by me for years, he always supported me through..everything”
His voice cracked a little at the edges, but he powered through it. “And then when we were chasing the flagsmashers, I was reckless. I thought I could control the situation. I thought I had it handled.”
He finally looked at her. Not just glanced—looked. Like he was letting her see the worst of it, the part he kept buried deep under all the armor and snark and forced confidence.
“They killed him in front of me, Ava. He didn’t hesitate, he just stepped in to do what he always did—have my back.”
He paused.
“I told myself the same things you’re telling yourself now. That it was my fault. That I should’ve done more. That if I had just done better, he’d still be here. I let those thoughts chew through me every night. Still do sometimes.”
She blinked, trying to will the tears away. It didn’t work. “So how do you get over it?”
He smiled at her, it was a sad and tired one but a smile nonetheless.
“You don’t. Not really. You just… keep going. You find a way to..live with the pain. You screw up, you learn, and you try like hell to make sure the next time something happens… you’re ready.”
His hand was still on her shoulder, warm and steady. “But beating yourself up won’t bring them back. It won’t make you stronger. It just leaves more scars.”
She let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, ice cream long forgotten. “I keep seeing her face. The kid. Just… staring at me. Like she knew I wasn’t going to save her.”
John shifted so he was sitting next to her, shoulder to shoulder now.
“I see Lemar too. Every time I close my eyes. But you know what I remind myself?”
She looked over at him, eyes red and lips trembling just slightly.
“That he’d hate seeing me this way. He’d kick my ass for wallowing in guilt instead of trying to be the guy he believed in.” He paused, then added gently, “And I bet that kid wouldn’t want you to drown in this either.”
She didn’t say anything, but her hand reached out and gently rested over his where it lay on her shoulder. She gave it a soft squeeze. It was supposed to comfort him but it ended up being something she needed to do to comfort herself.
“Thanks, John,” she whispered. Her voice cracked halfway through his name.
“Anytime, Aves,” he murmured. “Always.”
They sat like that for a while. Just breathing. After a bit Ava laid her head on his shoulder and her eyes flickered closed. She told herself it was just because she was exhausted but John did make a surprisingly good pillow.
The McFlurries eventually melted. Neither of them really cared.