—+*+—
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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DEVOURING FLAMES ENGULFED THEM from all sides with a deafening roar as the building collapsed. Chunks of cement slammed to the ground, crumbling and echoing with thunderous booms. Their ears exploded with sound, and all turned to chaos as darkness, rock, and fire surrounded the trio. Steve, Emersyn, and Natasha were huddled together under one shield. As the crumbling stone continued to bury them, Steve's agonizing scream rose above all else. He single-handedly took the weight of the crashing cement with his shield held firmly above his head. He gritted his teeth so hard that his jaw ached, and when he screamed his voice was raw and strained. A never-ending weight continued to press down on him, but his determination to save his friends' lives persevered. Steve fought against the pressing rock and screamed for release. After what seemed an eternity of pain, the debris settled and blocked out the bright glow of the flames, enclosing them in darkness. Steve gasped for air but only choked on smoke. It stung his eyes so he could not see, and the heat of the fire irritated his lungs and parched his mouth.
There was silence once the last of the cement had fallen and ash coated the ground. Steve braced himself with clenched fists and pressed his broad shoulders against the concrete above him in a desperate push to escape. With his shield above him, he squeezed his eyes shut and lifted the cement off with all his strength. Steve groaned as the weight threatened to crush him and the smoke made him cough. He finally was able to get to his feet and push the block of cement to the side with a loud crash. His body fell against it, chest heaving, and shaking with a hacking cough. Soot and dirt plastered his skin, and ash caught in his throat with every breath. He turned around shakily and kneeled at Emersyn's unmoving body. He grunted as he fell to her side and blinked dust from his eyes as he looked at her worriedly. Her smooth skin was caked with grime, and her red hair was strewn messily across her face. Tears left stains on her cheeks where dirt could not reach. His anxiety spiked as he searched for any sign of life, terrified of seeing her unmoving body. He pressed a quivering hand to her chest and sighed in relief. It rose and fell shallowly, but Emersyn was still breathing. Steve shook her shoulders to see if she would wake, but she did not respond.
A roar of jets came from the distance, a reminder of the approaching agents coming to find them. S.H.I.E.L.D was there. Steve quickly turned to find Natasha, also unconscious, and hissed from pain as he made his way over to her. He brushed away chunks of debris that had fallen on her and shook her quickly, muttering, "Come, on Nat." Her head only lolled from side to side, so Steve hauled her limp body into his arms and carried her out into the open. The fire still crackled and ate debris on the floor, leaving the air full of smoke. He set her down with a grunt and returned to get Emersyn. Steve pressed a gentle hand behind her head to support her as he grabbed her legs. As he was about to lift Emersyn, he froze at the wet, warm substance he felt on his hand. Steve's worried eyes gazed onto his open palm, now stained with blood, and saw her hair matted together by the gash on the back of her head.
"Oh, God.." Steve cried out hoarsely.
A wheezing cough came from behind him, and he whipped around to see Natasha sitting upright, squinting. "Steve?" She croaked.
"Thank goodness," he sighed and his face relaxed. Ash was brushed away as he stumbled toward Natasha and offered a hand to help her up. She rose with a grunt, leaning on him for support. A cough rattled her body when she tried to speak. Only a faint wheeze was able to be heard. Steve asked her, "Are you okay on your own?" He stepped away slightly, but still offered his arm in case Natasha lost her balance.
Nat's eyes focused on Emersyn's crumpled body and communicated to Steve that she was their priority. He nodded and returned to the rubble that surrounded the unconscious woman. Steve's arms wrapped around Emersyn carefully, making sure to support her head and torso. He moved with gentle steps, placing his feet only on stable ground as he navigated the debris. Her body felt like a dead weight; Emersyn's limp arms dangled freely as he walked, and the sight of her unresponsive body frightened him. He barely felt her soft breath reaching his neck but relied on that small glimmer of hope to strengthen him.
As Steve reached Natasha, who was now on her feet, blinding lights came rushing toward them as jets flew overhead. They quickly ducked out of view behind blocks of concrete; the pounding of their hearts seemed to be louder than the roar of the planes. Steve and Natasha shared a glance, eyes alight with fear and urgency. Despite their desperate situation, a small smirk grew on Nat's lips. The amusement in her voice was obvious even though her words came out hoarsely. "Deja vu."
Steve huffed in reply. "She has a habit of hitting her head."
With no time to waste, they checked their surroundings and made a hasty escape through the piles of debris. They walked in silence, all senses alert for any intruding agents or footsteps following them. Natasha walked with struggling breaths and a limp, often needing to slow down, but every time Steve paused to help her, she gritted her teeth and continued without a word. Her gaze remained focused on Emersyn's closed eyes, determined to keep going for the sake of her friend. Steve too found himself continually looking down at Emersyn, and ignoring the aching in his chest or the weariness in his muscles when he saw her face. She remained beautiful even when she was covered in dust and blood.
To each of them, they felt that Emersyn brought an unusual hope with her, and her joyful attitude followed into situations even when she was not present. Natasha could imagine if Emersyn were awake, she would be cracking jokes about always needing to be saved, and giggling even though they were supposed to be quiet. Steve would be snapping at her to shut up, and Emersyn would only tease him more. She was often a relief during times when all they faced was deathly, morbid and serious situations. Even the strongest-minded agent needed a chance to let you know lose and have fun, and Emersyn brought that with her into nearly every moment of her life. She loved people dearly, but loved them recklessly, and it was refreshing amidst the grim routine of S.H.I.E.L.D agents' lives.
Her never failing attitude of optimism always persevered through every mission, every scolding, every death, until now. Natasha often thought of Emersyn as child-like, and a younger sister, someone who was much less mature than she, but their age difference was only four years. Yet, she had never seen Emersyn truly be vulnerable, upset, or angry before this mission. It only happened twice; Nick Fury's death, and Zola's revelation of her parents. It frightened both Natasha and Steve because they knew that if the most carefree person had just been broken to the core, everything else they were about to face must be terrifyingly worse. So they trudged on, holding Emersyn and the hope that she carried with her.
As Steve's arms grew weary from the weight of Emersyn, his movements would become sloppier and occasionally jolt her body. Once they had left behind most of the rubble, there were no trees or shrubs to hide them, so Steve and Natasha made a run for their car outside the gate. Their shadows followed behind them on the walls of the old army buildings, and the rustling of their feet on the grass stirred crickets.
Emersyn was tossed up and down slightly as Steve jogged, and the movement sent sharp pain to her head as it fell against his arm. She was jolted awake and was immediately met with overwhelming, searing agony that felt like her head was on fire. Emerson groaned loudly and screwed her eyes up, unable to focus on anything but the throbbing pain. Steve jerked his head to look at her and slowed his pace, fearful of what he did. "Emersyn?" He lowered his voice but the worry in his tone was still present.
Her chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths and she began to writhe in Steve's arms. Natasha paused at her friend's side and clutched her hand gently. "You're gonna be okay," she whispered. Emersyn grimaced and squeezed Natasha's hand as support as waves of pain came crashing onto her.
Steve's wide eyes watched Emersyn with growing anxiety, and he swallowed harshly when he heard her groaning. He couldn't stand to hear another cry; with swift movements, Steve ushered Natasha forward and hurried to their car. His eyes darted frantically down to Emersyn every few seconds, watching her face contort with pain. A new fuel boosted Steve's strides and he flung the door open with surprising force. Natasha got in first and offered her jacket as a pillow for Emersyn's head. She placed the fabric on her lap and Steve gingerly lowered Emersyn onto the car seat.
His strong arms became perfectly gentle and took care to not land her head roughly. Steve continued to hold Emersyn until she was securely laid on Natasha's lap, and even then, Nat had to give Steve a nod for him to go. "She'll be okay," she reassured him.
They checked to see if they had been followed before they turned back onto the road and drove away into the night. The car ride seemed to be never-ending. The silence was thick and draining because each of them was too exhausted and sore to speak. They would rather sink into sleep and let their racing minds and aching muscles fade away. The quiet of the car also meant they were left to their own thoughts, haunted by all the horrifying information Zola revealed to them. Part of Natasha wanted to have a conversation so that she could be distracted from the painful, self-deprecating voices in her head, but it took a tiring amount of energy to just keep her eyes open. As much as she wanted to forget about what had happened, she was too tired to think of anything else.
Steve drove slowly (as slow as one could on a highway), with a blank, worn expression that seemed to belong to someone much older in years. Sometimes he appeared like an elderly man who had seen so much in his lifetime that new dramas became exhausting. The way his brow settled in acceptance and his eyes grew heavy showed countless times of experience where he, like the group was now, was dragged into weariness and defeat. Their fight was far from over, but after the day's events, each of them desired nothing else than to rest and forget about things, even if it was for the shortest moment. But the looming threat of HYDRA followed them at every step, lingering close enough to haunt them, but too far to reach. It was like a predator stalking its prey, rustling the grass behind them so they knew of its presence, but were unable to flee, and as soon as they tried to fight back, the predator slunk back into the shadows. To sleep was to be caught, and to attack was to be defeated. If they did not act, they would lose, but they knew too little to match their opponent. All this created chaos inside their heads.
Every once in a while Steve's dragging eyes would peer in the rearview mirror and catch glimpses of Emersyn's peaceful face. He turned on classical music in hopes of lifting the mood from the depressing silence, but soon it faded into the background of their minds, consumed by anxieties and helpless thoughts. During the drive, when no one else was on the road, the suffocating feeling of loneliness began to creep inside their hearts, and Natasha and Steve suddenly felt very alone in their fight. It was moments like those when Steve would stare at Emersyn for lengths of time, wishing for her to wake and lift his heavy heart with cheerful words or stupid jokes. It would ease him to chuckle at something childish she would say.
Occasionally, Emersyn would stir and groan quietly, prompting Steve's eyes to focus on her in hopes she would wake up. Natasha stroked her hair with motherly care, finding comfort in having someone to look after. The car ride dragged on, and Emersyn slept, dreaming of her past, her parents, S.H.I.E.L.D, and all the words of Zola drilled into her mind, forever torturing her thoughts.
Several times, Natasha would watch a tear slip out from Emersyn's creased lids, and wipe her cheek with dirty, but kind hands. She felt her friend twitch in her dreams and mutter senseless words, so Natasha hushed her gently and continued to stroke her head. Steve watched with wide, but compassionate eyes, and smiled to himself at the sight. He rarely saw Natasha open herself in such a caring way.
As Steve looked through the rearview mirror, Natasha felt his gaze and paused stiffly as she met his eyes. At first, she was uncomfortable and felt the need to look away, but at the sight of his eyes- his warm, admiring, pure eyes, Natasha looked back.
A genuine smile appeared on her lips before she knew it, and Steve returned it with an even brighter one. He accepted- no, he respected her, and suddenly, a weight was lifted off Natasha's chest like a bird had just taken flight. A soaring feeling of comfort brought tears to her eyes, and she peered down at Emersyn, whispering even though she could not hear, "Thank you."
—+*+—
"So, what happens now?" The small voice belonged to a quivering girl with tear-stained cheeks.
"Legally, you go to court and are appointed a guardian. Likely a family member of some sort," Nick Fury explained. "Theoretically, you join me."
Emersyn looked up at his one visible eye with her own teary ones. "What do you mean?"
"Do you know what your parents did for work?" He asked curiously.
"Uhm.. a nurse and a car salesman," Emersyn returned her eyes to the floor.
"And what do you want to do with your life?" The question surprised her. Emersyn gazed at Fury with uncertainty and paused to think. "I- I don't know... but something fun and active where I can interact and help people I guess..."
Fury closed his eye and thought to himself. "Mmm.." The breeze brushed across Emersyn's cheek gently and blew her hair into her face, but she did not care to move it. After several moments of silence, where only the wind's low howl was heard, Fury turned to her and looked with searching, intrigued eyes. Emersyn felt like he was trying to read her, and she shriveled under his gaze. "You don't know what to do, do you?"
Her throat felt lodged with emotion, and she had to swallow harshly to mutter, "No."
"Find a new purpose," Fury told her with an intense eye. "I see something in you, Sharp. If you want to dedicate yourself to something that gives you meaning, something that can stop things like this from happening, something more than your parties, find me." He handed her a business card, which she took nervously. "Nick Fury. Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." His voice rumbled so that even the name sounded powerful.
Emersyn peered down curiously and saw a logo with an eagle, wings spread wide and boldly imprinted on the card. Freedom. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell onto the paper in puddles. Nick Fury gave her a single tap on the shoulder before rising to his feet, jacket flowing behind him, and walking away to blend with the darkness.
Emersyn remained where she sat, crouched on the cold concrete and hunched with sobs shaking her body. She did not know what happened next, but her feet were suddenly carrying her down the street, past her friend's car, past the houses of happy families, and past any place that made her face reality. When she stopped, her legs lay spread on a field with grass on all sides, tickling her bare skin. Her head rest against the earth, with her tears watering the soil beneath it. The moon and stars were her only comfort, but even Mother Nature seemed cold tonight. The twinkling lights made her feel small and alone in such a vast world, and when she had no idea what to do next, they held no answers.
The night dragged on, Emersyn's misery grew, and by the time her puffy eyes managed to shut, the world had just begun to dawn. The next day was spent trudging around the city, avoiding contact with anyone, and trying to think of what she'd do. There was no family she knew of who would take her, and she did not want to become another slave to the foster care system. She was more than that. She thought of her friends, and the parties, everything that she once adored seemed so pointless now. If Emersyn had not spent the night partying, perhaps things would have been different. She discovered that she had little care what became of her friends, or herself, as long as she could do what she told Fury: have fun, and help others.
The imprint of Fury was glued to her mind; his dark, but piercing eyes, confident and commanding tone... the way he walked, the way he spoke those words: I see something in you, Sharp, made her believe she saw something in herself too.
Emersyn had always been a risk-taker, a go-getter, but now there was nothing to do, nothing to get. Her only options were misery or whatever the hell S.H.I.E.L.D was, but something about Fury made her want to join. Maybe it was the way he read her expressions and feelings, and knew what was best for her, or the way he offered a random fifteen-year-old girl, a stranger, into his organization. Or maybe it was the way he treated her with equal kindness and authority, like a parent, which she never experienced from her own.
On the second night, alone in an alley, shivering from cold and hunger, Emersyn pulled out her phone, and stared at the business card, and dialed the number. She would give this new opportunity a chance, and maybe, it would be her new purpose.
A/N
This chapter was so hard to write for some reason, but it was very touching so I hope you enjoyed!