Chapter Text
Ava remembers the sharp pinch the moment a needle hit her skin. Every time. When they drew blood, it would feel cold. It would start in her head and work its way down. She’d hardly had any blood left, so she didn’t know where they were getting it all. Every third day, of course, lest she pass out again. Hard to run experiments on an unconscious subject. It was like clockwork. But the cold days weren’t the worst days- not by far.
No, the days they would inject her with one thing or another were the worst. They told her they were trying to stabilize her cell structure or counteract the dispersal of quantum energy every time she’d fade from existence. She was pretty sure they were talking out their asses. It all hurt. The only difference was the flavour of pain.
Bill had tried helping her escape two times previous to her final exit. The first time, he’d been interrupted by other people entering the room, having returned early from their lunch because they’d thought they ‘found a breakthrough.’ Neither of them had had a plan. It was spontaneous and dangerous, and they hadn’t even gotten her out of the cell. After the first attempt, she didn’t see him for a while. The first day he was gone, she figured he’d probably been found out and got fired. The other scientists would mention him or his research from time to time but said nothing of him getting fired. It had sounded like he was making progress. After about three and a half weeks, she’d been convinced he had abandoned her. Doomed to die alone in a concrete cage in some basement as they watched her slowly dissolve.
Nearly a year and a half, Bill returned. It was the first time anyone had ever apologized to her for anything more than ‘a slight pinch.’ The night shift had been off doing fuck knows and he had told them not to worry; he could watch her. He’d said that he had to acquire equipment so that she would be able to exist outside of the building without fear of falling through the floor, a building big enough to hold it all, and the ability to power everything. He’d had his eye on a few facilities.
He told her he had been looking for some place nearer to the ‘shore’ (whatever that was) so she wouldn’t feel so confined if she decided to go outside, but the unfortunate fact of the matter was they would need to settle somewhere in the city if they wanted enough power from the grid without drawing attention. So, he put a bid down on a place. After that, he’d gotten the equipment from SHIELD directly. Just had to fill out some paperwork to allow him to work from home and perform a few favours quid pro quo. All of it was being kept in a storage facility and he had the key in hand. He’d been so enthusiastic it had taken him a moment to realize she was upset.
Bill’s second attempt resulted in her first time yelling at him. That he was a coward and a liar, only interested in his research. That he was performing some kind of sick experiment on her- like seeing if hope on an empty promise would be enough to hold her cells together, or if the loss of it would finally break her apart. The look he had… It still haunts her. Maybe not too frequently, seeing as she actively avoids even thinking about it. But here it is now. Well, then. And there she is, front and center, slagging him off for having seemingly abandoned her. Then it was the second time anybody had ever apologized to her. And she’d told him to shove it.
Some time after that, SHIELD had sent her out on a covert mission. Said she was uniquely qualified for the job. One became several which became many. She’d avoided any more interaction with Bill than was strictly necessary. At first, she’d been resentful. Then depressed. Then she’d finally forgiven him. Not that he’d apologized again, but that she’d done so retroactively. After that, her avoidance had been borne from shame. Of what he might think of her and what she did. Has done. Is still doing- or, at least, until a few days ago.
Ava’s last attempt at escape, they’d quite literally let her walk out the front door. SHIELD had fallen.
Bill hadn’t stopped trying to help her all that time- just gave her the space she claimed to have wanted. With nowhere to go and no clue what to do, she had sought him out. He didn’t even blink. Just accepted her with open arms and a kind smile. She didn’t tell him she’d forgiven him for being gone so long. Still hasn’t, really. She should. If they ever get out of here. She might start out by apologizing for being the one to put this look on his face.
Thank Christ Walker told them what to expect. Had she come into this cold, she would have curled up into a ball and wept until she dissolved and the darkness swallowed the earth. The thing about memories is, if you never knew what the chemicals in the beakers and test tubes were, then chances are who or whatever is holding her here doesn’t know either. As it turns out, believing they’d been injecting her with acid and liquid fire worked in her favour for once.
For fake glass, it makes a convincing sound as she throws them at the wall. The fire the Bunsen burner whipped at her felt real, too. She has no idea what this place really is aside from a memory, so she’s not going to use her ability in here. Anything could happen. She could be unable to reform or maybe end up back in the real world. This is where they need to be right now, and they’ve been separated. With the door of her memory being locked, she figures burning down a wall or two may get her somewhere. The moment she sees a gap she kicks at it. Is this bloody plywood? Fuck’s sake. She flips on her helmet and crashes through the not-so-concrete wall.
The smoke of the fire she’s started must be filling this room too. It’s hard to see at first, so she fans it away. Smells like… Chinese? Alright. These memories pay her no mind. No, the only one to notice her is Bucky. Well, the Bucky that isn’t slouching in his seat trying to burn holes into his food with his eyes. Real Bucky is tossing dishes and menus everywhere looking for something. “Hey!” His head snaps to her, eyes wide. He’s as surprised to see her as she is to be here. The smoke is gone. She turns and sees painted drywall where she’s just come from. Folding down her helmet she looks back to him, and he goes back to destroying the place. She rolls her eyes. “Have you tried the door?”
He looks at the glass door and all of the people walking on the other side, then goes back to her. “Figured there might be a button. Switch, maybe.”
“I thought you were an Avenger.” Ava marches around him, dodging a few more menus. She holds the door open. Nothing happens. But it’s somewhere else. They look at each other. She’s definitely smirking, and he’s definitely scowling – more so than he was previously, too.
“You’d be surprised how many times it’s just a button,” he grumbles as he walks through. She’s right behind him, thus it is his solid wall of a back she slams into, hitting her nose. Asshole.
“What the hell are you-” She peers around his shoulder, now seeing what he’s seeing. “Shit.”
She looks behind them and the entire building has gone. Not shrunk. It’s just. A street. It’s like they’d teleported. They’re outside, at least. But it’s not the outside they’d seen at the restaurant. No. This road is cobblestone, and they’re watching from an entirely different angle. It’s still familiar though. She’d seen it enough times online and on the news.
Wait a fucking moment. She steps around Bucky. It’s more different than the angle. This fight is playing out far differently than it had initially. For one, there’s two John Walkers and one of them is working with the Flagsmasher to beat the other into a bloody pulp. John – presumably theirs – is on his last leg, trying to fend them off. He looks over and sees them. “Little help would be n-” He’s smacked across the face by what was once his shield, landing on one knee and bracing one hand against the steps to the fountain.
“Hey, fucknut!” she yells, almost launching herself forward. The two memories find her immediately. The Flagsmasher, she’s got no previous knowledge to compare him to. But this John - Walker, so she can keep them straight in her head – has an eerily blank expression when he looks at her. There’s no light, but no shadow. It’s vacant. She’s looking right at him and all she can see is a void.
It catches her so off guard, she stumbles and stops. She’s now being stared down by them both. They’re going to go after her, aren’t they? One Walker is one thing, two super soldiers might greatly reduce her odds. Will the stop before they kill her? Bucky is pushing past her and rushing in before she gets an answer, but she follows right after. The three of them can do this, they-
Stop. Why’d they stop? This isn’t how it goes. She’s seen Inception, she knows how this is supposed to work, and the figments aren’t supposed to back away from them. Well, now she feels stupid. Leave it to an entirely fake Walker to piss her off just as well. Bucky reaches out an arm and John grabs it. He’s then pulled to his feet. Walker and the Flagsmasher just watch. And so, they watch back. The moment she blinks, they’re gone. But not far. The figments come bolting out of the alley. As opposed to letting him watch this traumatic event on fold again, Ava yanks on John's arm. He turns more willingly than she expected and nearly knocks into her. This close, she can see life in his eyes.
She looks him over. A few more bruises than when they got in here, and some cuts. It takes a moment for her to realize he’s looking at her, too. He looks tired. Defeated. Definitely not the blankness the other Walker had stared at her with. He still looks angry, but in a way she is all too familiar with. She thinks of the waves of quantum energy colliding with her very being, sorting everything into place as another person's lifeforce was drained. She’d been too relieved while it was happening to feel anything else. But when Janet saw her- when she’d gotten this close…
Would Bill have still run away with her? Had she not been stopped? If she’d actually managed to-
And what about him? Would his wife have left him if he’d stopped just before? Would America have still abandoned him so easily?
Stop. This is a waste of time. They had to find Yelena. And then hopefully Bob. They’d find a way out of this. They had to, otherwise she knows she’ll end up-
“My guys didn’t attack me,” Bucky graciously interrupts... whatever this is. Ava and John take a safe step back from each other. Her, for an attempt to snap out of it. Did he step back because she’d made him uncomfortable just bloody staring at him? He was the one who somehow always managed to invade her personal space. “The hell’d you do?”
John just shrugged, shaking his head. “No clue. They saw me and just…” He was lying. A glance at Bucky tells her he knows it, too. They just let him. “I don’t know if this place has rules, or we just haven’t figured ‘em out.”
She has some ideas, but half of them were just proven wrong, so she doesn’t speculate. Instead, she pivots around on one heel, looking for the nearest door. There's a wooden door with a small window just a few yards down. There’s nothing on the other side, except- Is that Alexei? She squints and makes her way over for further inspection. He’s not behind the window. Somehow, he’s in the reflection? But the reflection looks like a house? Are those children? He’s making his way over. She steps back as to not be in his way when he slams the door open, catching Bucky and John off guard.
Alexei looks- not pissed. It’s not the bombastic and flamboyant type of anger she’s witnessed so far, but he’s not a walking emptiness, so this must be him. She hopes. He looks cold. Calculated. She didn’t know him then, but she suspects this is the type of super soldier the Soviets wanted when they’d chosen him. She prefers him with the stupid glimmer of hope in his eyes.
He looks at them. Then around. Then he starts making his way down the cobbled street like a man on a mission. Bucky just shrugs. “Worked for me so far.” They follow Alexei.
They’re not even a block down when she sees something again. This time, in the window of a jewelry shop. Yelena joining Bob on the floor in some cramp room? John must see them too, because he’s running across the street, taco forward. They’re trying to stay as a unit, likely an unspoken agreement so that none of them get lost, and so when he breaks the glass, she ducks close behind him as to best avoid the debris. Good choice, too, because gravity suddenly changes around her and they’re falling. She lands on him. Fortunately, Alexei and Bucky don’t land on her.
She peels herself off his back. She wipes a few shards and splinters off them both, but then even that’s gone and disappeared. This floor’s also not got a rug on it. Tiles. It smells like wet grass and flowers. Fuck, she could’ve sworn she saw-
“Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know how I…” John stammers. Rather unlike him. At least, what she knows of him so far. “I’m sorry.” Alexei hits both hands down on his head, frustrated. He doesn’t say anything. The other two look away from what’s happening- John because he doesn’t want to see whatever is about to happen. It’s another Walker. This one has a broken arm and a shattered ego.
A man asks, “He’s the one that killed our boy?” Oh. No, no she can’t do this. Losing her parents hurt enough, she can’t imagine-
“Yes.” Walker’s looking directly into the eyes of a man that’s lost his child when he says it. Fuck, she can’t fucking do this.
Bucky realizes this team is quickly falling apart at the seams, and so he herds them to the back of the shop. “We gotta clear our heads. You found me,” he says, giving her a pointed look. She doesn’t remind him that it was a fluke. None of this makes sense. “We found Walker. So just focus. We got this.” Christ, they’re grasping at straws.
She crosses her arms and hugs herself, seeking pressure. She needs pressure. John shakes the thoughts out and says “got it” far more confidently than he looks. He smacks himself in the face and gives another shake. Well alright?
Alexei has either listened to their absolute lack of a plan or not, but he storms around the counter to a door. He peeks inside the window. He gives an unsatisfied huff and opens it, peering inside. There’s a beat. His silence lasts for just a moment too long before he says, “We are close.” Unanimously, they turn to him, and suddenly the four of them are in an airfield, bathing in golden afternoon sunlight. There are over a dozen men in suits scattered around, and one that looks vaguely familiar. Alexei gives a brief but visceral yell. None of them says a word about it.
They’re quick to realize there’s no door here. Nothing reflective either. Shit. But, there are walls? Fuck if she knows. Bucky’s against one wall, feeling for any gaps. Probably looking for a bloody button. Christ. Ava turns to Alexei, who’s two seconds from bodily throwing himself into the wall himself. “Ignore him. Look at me.” Alexei’s eyes snap to hers. He nods. Well, at least he’s responsive. “Think about Yelena. What she looks like, what she was doing before she…” Ava just gesticulates her arms. He gets the picture.
“Before shit hit the fan,” John says eloquently. “She looked pissed.” How helpful. The man knows how to choose the worst moment, doesn’t he?
Alexei makes a face as if to brush off the thought. “Yelena. She was upset, sure. But she is good. She wants to do good. I do not doubt for a second that she has found Bob,” he does this rapid snap, clap and point towards them, seemingly having decided on all three ways one might typically indicate quickness, “like that!”
“Honey,” comes a voice. It sounds off. Wrong. Even just the one word. It’s the familiar man. She doesn’t look, but from his wince, Ava can guess who it is. “You need to give me that gun.” From her peripheral, there’s quite a few men, but all focus is on the girl warding them all off with a gun, protecting an even smaller girl behind her. It takes him a second, but John connects the dots as well. He’s less subtle with his blatant staring- bloody idiot, she could kill him. His head swivels left and right with his face scrunched in confusion. That fucking wrinkle. Ava ducks and forces Alexei’s eyes to meet hers. Puts her hands on his shoulders.
Ava’s had a father figure or two in the past. Alexei isn’t that to her, but they tend to work the same in her experience. To this day, she can recall the fear in her father’s face when she ran to him. Like it was burned into her mind with the sheer force of the explosion. She still blames herself. She was the one that made sure his final thought was that his wife and child were going to die with him. She’s unsure if Alexei is better for having let those girls’ final thoughts of him be that of safety and comfort, or worse for knowing they would wake up somewhere and know what he’d done. Surely, the bad outweighed the good, but that didn’t mean the good wasn’t there. So here they were. A child who betrayed her father’s final wish, and a father who betrayed his children’s trust.
She’s not exactly the best at physical comfort- hell, she still struggles to manage her own flare-ups if she gets too panicked. But she learned quite recently that maybe sometimes the single kindest thing a stranger can do is just empathize with another.
“Fuck this,” Bucky says somewhere behind them. He starts tearing at whatever it is that makes up these walls before he starts kicking.
She can’t take her gloves off, so she does the only thing she can think of. There’s a bit of force when they collide, but Alexei doesn’t even hesitate to follow her lead. Like something within him knew what to do. His forehead is uncomfortably round, but hers is drenched in sweat, so maybe they’re even. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. She hopes he sees what she’s trying to say. From his soft exhale and the heavy drop of his eyelids, she thinks he does.
“Wait a second. Ava.” John’s hand brushes the back of her arm. Is this the first time he’s actually said her real name? Not important. She’s hit with a slight pinch in the back of her mind. “Ava, you-” He’s cut off by a thump and fluttering of pages. She pulls back from Alexei like it burns. Vulnerability in front of people is her least favourite kind, but somehow also the one she’s most familiar with, and now is not the time. The sound of choking pulls her attention before she can get too embarrassed. Well would you fucking look at that. She unsheathes her stolen sword and cuts through.