She straightened; her face expressionless. "Ready to comply."
The dark-haired man - Bucky, a voice in her head informed her; his name is Bucky - paled. "What?"
Loud swearing broke out, coming from a woman - Peggy, the same voice said patiently. Her name is Peggy and she's your friend - standing nearby. "Those words," the woman, Peggy? said, "They must have been some sort of trigger for giving her new orders. It put her--"
"Back under his control," the man -- Bucky, was that his name? said with a snarl, "and she couldn't tell us."
"Of course not," the woman/Peggy said, "it wouldn't make for a very good trigger if she could stop it."
"You will report to the Valkyrie at once," the voice ordered. "Kill anyone who gets in the way."
The voice in her head was still there, telling her these people were her friends and she needed to stay with them, but the need to obey overwhelmed it. She had her mission. Everything, and everyone, else was irrelevant.
She turned her back on the two and the voice quieted, leaving an odd sensation of emptiness behind. She spotted her primary gun on the floor and retrieved it, sliding it into the holster at her hip. She retrieved her switchblade next, replacing it in her thigh holster. She saw no sign of her backup weapon but didn't waste time looking for it.
It was only as she headed off the platform that it occurred to her she'd given her back to two enemies.
Why had she done that and, what's more, why hadn't they taken advantage?
Because they aren't your enemies, the voice returned, insistent.
She ignored it.
The door into the hall was in front of her. Just before she reached it, a man with a strange hat and a mustache got in her way as if to block her. Dugan. A friend - NO, a new voice, still her own but harder, emotionless. He is in your way. Fulfill your mission. The man/Dugan/her enemy opened his mouth to speak but she never gave him a chance. She snapped an elbow into his face and followed it by pivoting on one foot to send a boot into his chest. He flew backward and hit the wall with a hard thump before slumping to the ground. The voice in her head that insisted he was a friend wailed while the other felt satisfaction at fulfilling mission parameters.
The dark-haired man/Bucky, rushed past her to kneel beside him, along with the woman, Peggy/the enemy.
The dark-haired man was partly in her way. He and the woman had pulled the man with the mustache up to sit against the wall and were talking to him. Bucky? was kneeling with one leg and his back blocking a portion of the doorway.
He's in your way, the dispassionate voice stated. Kill him.
No, the other voice broke in. Leave him alone.
She grimaced and put a hand to her head, swaying fractionally as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her head was killing her, like someone was stabbing her in the temple with an ice pick. The voices were demanding, pulling her in opposite directions.
She felt as if she were fracturing in two.
She stepped over the dark-haired man's outstretched leg. Her hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, as if she were trying to use him to physically stop her body from taking her out. She felt his hand grab hers for an instant, and then she was pulling free and striding past him out into the corridor.
The voice that insisted the dark-haired man was her friend screamed for her to go back.
The other voice demanded she complete her mission.
She broke into a run, heading toward the hanger.
The command must have gone out to more than just her as she was soon swallowed in a swarm of soldiers dressed in black heading in the same direction. She found herself trailing, still fighting the two voices in her head that demanding she go back and keep moving forward simultaneously. It felt like they were both in control of her body and, if that were so, then she had no idea where it left her.
She rounded a corner, lagging well behind the last of the soldiers in black. As the closest man in front of her passed a certain area he reached out and slapped at a large panel set in the wall. Gears began to grind and thick metal doors started to rumble across the corridor, blocking it off. She managed to slip through and ignored the way the one voice was practically sobbing inside her head, crying out for the dark-haired man. The pain radiating from that voice was worse than anything she'd ever felt, like someone had stabbed her in the gut and then twisted the knife.
Emotions are a weakness, the other voice stated simply. Attachments irrelevant. He is your enemy. He only matters if he gets in your way.
Something heavy and metallic slammed into the doors behind her and the gears shrieked and screamed in protest as they struggled to complete their task.
She stumbled to a stop and turned to see a shield wedged between the doors, holding them open. Bucky slid through and turned his back on her to knock the shield loose. The doors slammed shut behind him, separating him from his friends and removing any avenue of escape.
He'd come after her.
One voice shrieked with joy, the other with anger.
"You're on the wrong side," she said. She couldn't tell which emotion was in her voice, joy or anger.
Perhaps it was both.
"Not possible," he replied. "You're here."
She tilted her head, studying him, and then held out her arms to him.
He dropped his shield and walked into them without a moment of hesitation and it wasn't until she touched him and buried her face in his neck that she understood which voice had been telling the truth. She curled against him, wrapping one arm around his back and winding the other behind his head to slide her fingers through his hair. She inhaled a sharp mix of aftershave, leather and gunpowder, and the colder voice, the one still demanding she kill him on the spot, finally shut up.
Both his arms went around her easily and she felt the point of his chin resting on the top of her head. He didn't say anything, just stood and embraced her while she held onto him the way one might hang onto a rock when caught in the midst of a raging river.
"My head feels like it's splitting in half," she managed to whisper, finally, against his neck. She sighed and shifted to press her face even closer into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. "I'm tired."
"I know you are, Darling," she heard him respond. "It's almost over. I swear it."
She believed him.
He's the enemy.
The voice was back, and getting stronger again, demanding she obey her mission parameters. She pulled away and grabbed the front of his costume with both hands before leaning to press her forehead against his. "I don't want to fight you."
It was one of the few things she knew for sure. She didn't truly know who he was but she knew she didn't want to hurt him, and she knew that she missed him so badly it was causing a physical ache inside her soul.
"Then don't." He freed one of her hands to interlace his fingers with hers before raising their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles.
Fulfill your mission.
"I have to go." She paused, and then blurted, "come with me."
"I'm with you to the end of the line," he said. "And whatever comes after."
Something like relief flooded her and she surprised herself by leaning forward to kiss him quickly on the lips. Then, before the other voice could regain control, she pulled free and started moving again.
He grabbed his shield and fell in with her, by her side but not in her way.
Together, they headed toward the hanger while, inside her mind, both voices were silent.
For the moment.
***
They broke into the hanger a few minutes later. It was filled with soldiers running in every direction. She spotted the soldiers she'd been following earlier, already scrambling up a ladder into the belly of a massive plane at the other end of the hanger.
"Where's that going?" Bucky asked.
"I don't know." She frowned as something occurred to her and then said, "give me your shield and put your hands behind your back."
He obeyed and she slid the straps of the shield over her left arm and then grabbed his sleeves at his wrists as if she were holding the bar of cuffs. She nudged him forward into the hanger, keeping close to him as she did. Several soldiers looked her way but dismissed her almost immediately, assuming she was taking her prisoner to the plane, which she was.
A massive explosion rocked the hanger.
A shockwave of energy and debris slammed into her, knocking her down and sending her sliding across the floor along with other soldiers in a pile of tangled bodies, dropped gear and equipment.
She managed to get to her feet in time to see soldiers dressed in brown pouring from a hole in the wall of the hanger. She cast about and caught sight of Bucky pulling himself to his feet.
He turned and caught her eye, his movements loose and without pain. There was a mass of soldiers between the two of them, cutting them off from one another. She bit her lip and looked toward the plane, closer to her than to him.
Go to the plane, the flat voice ordered. Complete your mission.
You have to go, the other voice added, surprisingly in agreement. It's important. He's safer where he is.
She nodded and then, in one move, slid his shield off her arm and threw it toward him, over the heads of the soldiers. She saw him catch it and then she whirled and headed toward the plane. She heard him shout behind her but didn't react.
She had to go, and he had to stay.
Part of her accepted it without complaint.
The other part sat quietly and watched her heart break.
She reached a ladder leading into the plane and climbed up awkwardly, her left arm stiff from the bandages and still in enough pain that it hurt to lift. She made it inside and two soldiers pulled the ladder up after her.
Under her feet, she heard the rumble of the plane's engines and the vibration as it started to move.
One of the soldiers told her to go to the bridge and she obeyed, following the way he indicated. The man with the red skull was on the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair with his eyes on the windshield. Through it she could see a square of light rapidly approaching as the plane raced down the runway.
Mission completed, the flat voice told her.
This is important, the other voice informed her but neither it, nor she, seemed to understand why.
"Welcome back, Lady," the man said without looking at her. "I thought you might wish to be present to see the world changed. I may even let you give the order yourself. It would be quite the irony, yes?"
He didn't seem to care about a response so she didn't give one. Instead she focused on an imaginary spot on the other side of the room. The pain in her shoulder was starting to increase for some reason and she could still feel the slow throb of pain in her side. She could also feel blood seeping out but it wasn't fast enough or in a great enough quantity to be serious.
The man with the red skull in the chair hissed suddenly and she saw his attention caught on a viewer down on his other side. She couldn't see whatever it was but, after a few minutes, the man settled down again and lost interest.
The plane shot out of the square of light and she saw snowcapped mountains that they rose swiftly above, soon leaving the facility behind.
Something inside her fell and her vision blurred as they left the hanger, and Bucky behind.
Bucky.
She'd left Bucky behind. She swallowed past a heavy rock in her throat, put her hands behind her back in an at ease position and pinched the flesh between her fingers with her other hand, the sharp pain driving the tears back.
A few minutes later the faint sound of a commotion caught her attention. The man with the red skull pushed a button on his console next to him and then swore.
"The man is like a cockroach," he muttered, "and you have now failed again to kill him."
Her heart jolted and she straightened. Was he talking about Bucky?
"Go," she was ordered. "Try not to fail again."
She nodded and almost ran from the bridge, heading to the hanger bay on the bottom of the ship. There was a long row of small planes there with names of American cities written on them, but she didn't know the purpose of them.
She caught sight of Bucky, in the process of knocking out a soldier, and her heart leapt in her chest. Forms in black uniforms were scattered on the floor and she was impressed he'd managed to take so many out so quickly. She saw him turn to take out another soldier, and jumped in surprise as a black clad soldier he'd missed stepped up close to her, aiming a gun at Bucky's back.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the soldier's arm and broke it. She followed it up with an elbow to the rib cage and a blow straight to the fact that threw him back twenty feet to crash against one of the smaller planes where he then fell to the deck in an unmoving heap.
When she turned back, Bucky was directly in front of her.
"Hey, Darling," he said, something like adoration in his eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her.
Kill him, the flat voice ordered.
Shut up, the other voice commanded.
The two voices went to war, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him even as she casually considered gutting him. It wouldn't be hard. She had more than a dozen weapons on her and he was at her mercy, one arm around her waist, the other holding his shield uselessly at his side. Hell, she didn't even have to use any of them. She had a metal arm, all it would take was cupping the back of his head and...
She shuddered, hard enough that he pulled back and gave her a concerned look. "What is it?"
"I'm supposed to kill you," she said. She paused as he took the opportunity to kiss her again and then continued with, "not..." another kiss, "this."
He seemed entirely unconcerned, simply moving in to kiss her again, his arm tightening around her waist.
His shield clattered to the deck and he put a hand on the side of her face. The action triggered a memory, the feel of something cold but filled with lights fitting there instead of his hand. He moved to kiss her jaw and she said, "If I don't kill you they'll hurt me again."
That got his attention and he pulled back to study her. "Those words they were saying? They hurt you?"
"No." She put a hand on his arm where it was around her waist and focused somewhere past him. "Those are for mission commands. A chair. It does...something." The memories were hazy, unclear and she pressed her forehead against his as the pain in her temple increased. "It erases..."
"What does that mean?" he asked, his tone probing.
"I don't know," she admitted through gritted teeth. Her voice lowered to a near whisper. "It hurts..."
Her eyes shifted to his finally and, then, before she thought about it too much, she surged forward and kissed him on her own, completely ignoring the voice telling her to kill him. It faded and the other voice grew stronger, melding with her mind until it wasn't another voice but her voice and her desires.
She trailed an arm along his forearm and up to the nape of his neck. His hair brushed the tips of her fingers and it was soft and felt like silk and she'd always loved his hair. Whenever there was a program on the radio they both loved they would meet each week to listen to it together. She would curl up on the couch and he would sit on the floor with his back against it so she could play with his hair as they listened. Eventually she would start massaging his scalp for him, which would usually end up with him dropping his head back with a groan to swear his undying love.
She pulled away from him and he gave her a look that could only be described as unwavering devotion.
"To the end of the line?" she asked him.
"And whatever lays beyond," he swore.
She nodded, and then felt her eyes widen as she spotted movement over his shoulder.
He saw her reaction and whirled, just in time to see two soldiers he'd missed heading toward the small planes. More appeared, swarming down nearby ladders and she realized Bucky hadn't, in fact, taken all of them out in an insanely short period of time. The main part simply hadn't all been there.
"You're injured," Bucky told her. "Let me handle it."
He grabbed his shield and left and she stood uncertainly, watching.
One of the soldiers made it to a plane but, before he could get in, Bucky reached the consoles next to it. The doors opened and the plane fell away, spinning out of control as it fell. The man who'd been trying to board it managed to hang onto something for a few seconds before the force of the wind sucked him out. He fell away, screaming and she jerked, physically taking a step backward as an image assailed her.
The edge of a mountain, falling, pain scorching through her side, Bucky overhead, screaming her name and then he was gone and she was still falling, alone.
She staggered, grabbing the railing with her right hand to steady herself.
Bucky was on top of another plane, smashing at the cockpit window with his shield. A soldier appeared out of nowhere, jumping on his back and she saw Bucky's shield spin away, hitting the ground several feet away from him.
She saw Bucky turn to fight the man...just as the doors opened beneath the plane and it fell out, taking Bucky with it.
It happened so fast her mind didn't register it at first.
He was there.
And then he wasn't.
"Bucky?" she whispered. Her knees sagged and she fought to lock them back in place. "Bucky?"
She managed to get back up, just as another of the soldiers approached her. There were at least twenty left. The one coming toward her was carrying Bucky's shield and her eyes locked onto it, fixated.
"Get out of my way," the man snapped, stopping in front of her.
Something inside her cracked and the woman who raised her eyes to meet his was neither entirely the soldier nor entirely Stephanie Barnes.
She was something in between...and she was pissed.
The man was probably dead five minutes before he realized it. The shield clattered to the ground, face down and she stomped on the edge, sending it snapping up into her hand and slid it onto her arm. With her other hand, she pulled a blade from a holster...and then she went to work.
Hydra never stood a chance.