Siberia
Spring 2016
Nadine pulled away from Nina even as a blast of cold air gusted into the Quinjet, the groan of the boarding ramp's decent signalling it was time to go.
Drawing back, Nadine brushed a hand against Nina's cheek, smiling fondly down at her daughter. There were a million things she wanted to say, but not a word would come. It felt too...final to consider saying most of what sprang to mind—how proud she was of her little girl, how much she loved her. Even promises that, when—if, the pragmatic side of her reminded—she returned, she would tell Nina everything she still had left to reveal felt like to voice them would be tempting fate. And the outcome of the coming fight was already far too uncertain. Nadine didn't believe in luck or fate, but she knew mentality was an underrated key to surviving any situation. To even consider failure was to invite it.
Especially when she had little in the way of either contingencies to ensure success or escape plans to fall back on in case her not inconsiderable skills and those of her companions weren't enough.
This fight was it.
And it was going to be brutal.
Oh, she had plans in place for Nina were something to happen to her. She'd had those plans in place for years, really, updating them as needed to accommodate for their changing circumstances. Documents and preparations that accounted for most eventualities or possible outcomes. Means for Nina to disappear, should she want to, and means for her to stay safe.
And means for her to learn the truth.
Of course, that was assuming there was no one left to tell her. Nadine knew that if something were to happen to her, Natasha had already given her promise to ensure Nina was well looked after and that she would make sure Nina learned everything. More than that, she knew without ever having mentioned any such thing to Steve that he would do the same without question. That he would make sure Nina knew the secrets Nadine hadn't yet shared. At least, insofar as he knew them.
And now there was Barnes too.
Though, if she were being truly honest, Nadine knew full well that Barnes had the gravest outlook of all of them. Both where this looming conflict was concerned, and beyond, should he manage to beat the odds and survive.
She fully intended for that to be the case.
No matter what it took.
But still, that this was far from a certain fight and that the odds of them all surviving—much less winning—were solidly stacked against them was a reality she couldn't ignore. One both Steve and Barnes were undoubtedly just as aware of given the gravity shadowing their expressions despite their reminiscing smiles and the lighthearted banter they were engaged in as she approached the pair where they stood at the top of the lowering ramp.
"You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead," Steve was correcting dryly, fighting a grin at whatever memory the pair was reliving. Barnes chuckled, his features utterly transformed by the smile lighting his face. Despite herself, Nadine couldn't help but smile at the expression; Nina had the uncanny ability to draw out smiles simply by smiling herself, too.
"What was her name again?" Barnes asked, with a faint frown. There was nothing grim about the expression, though.
"Dolores," Steve answered easily, "you called her Dot." A small huff escaped Barnes as Nadine's steps slowed, bringing her up just behind the two of them.
"She's gotta be a hundred years old right now," Barnes said with a distinct note of disbelief. Steve didn't miss a beat.
"So are we, pal," he countered, his voice dryly ironic. He looked to Barnes with a reserved grin before clapping him solidly on the shoulder. Nadine was loath to break up the loaded glance passing between them—a look that easily spanned most of those hundred years. There was no denying the depth and the strength of the friendship the two men shared, the earnest connection behind the look plain to see. It almost seemed too private a moment to intrude on, much less observe. But it nevertheless warmed Nadine in a way she didn't expect. Bewilderingly, it nurtured the flicker of confidence that they would make it through whatever waited them several dozen stories beneath their feet that she'd been working to strengthen.
Much to her relief, she didn't have to interrupt. Steve clapped Barnes' shoulder a second time before peering out through the snow gusting between the Quinjet and the bunker entrance a couple hundred feet before them.
"Is it impolitic to say the years show?" she piped up, continuing the teasing over their technical ages before she could help herself. It immediately drew both men's attention around to her. Steve frowned, bewildered, until she held up the helmet she'd scooped up from where he'd nearly forgotten it on the seats near Nina. A huffing chuckle burst free as he shook his head, grinning almost self-consciously as he took it from her. Next to him, Barnes was far less successful in stifling his amusement, grinning brightly again as he laughed softly at his best friend's expense. Steve shot him a nearly petulant look before turning his warm gaze back to Nadine.
"What would we do without you," he murmured good-naturedly, but no less gratefully as he slipped the helmet on, habitually fastening the chinstrap as he smiled over at her. She patted him lightly on the arm, her hand lingering for a moment.
"I'm sure you'd manage," she quipped back dryly, "it would just take you longer." And with the shadow of a mischievous grin, she slipped between the two super soldiers and down the boarding ramp.
She only paused to look back as the ramp began to lift once Barnes stepped onto the snow, sparing Nina one final look where she stood next to the ramp's control panel.
"She'll be okay, Nadine." Nadine turned, meeting Steve's eye. His smile wasn't quite so light as it had been when joking with her and Barnes, but it was encouraging nontheless. And despite the bleakness of the situation, it helped. She inhaled deeply, steeling herself.
"I know," she said, forcing back the anxious ache in her gut that had intensified the instant Nina was hidden from sight. It was a distraction, one she was long accustomed to acknowledging and setting aside, she reminded herself. There had been a time, after all, where she'd regularly left Nina for the sake of her missions and she'd had to quickly grow accustomed to leaving her fear behind with Nina, lest it prove a dangerous distraction.
She pointedly ignored the fact that this situation was nothing like any of the missions she had departed for in the past. There were no assurances, and the odds certainly weren't in her favour as she'd used to work diligently to ensure was the case. They weren't in any of their favour. That made all the difference, the pragmatic voice tried to argue.
She pushed that thought aside too.
After a short conference, their course of action was set. Steve and Barnes would enter through the main doors to confront the doctor and the Five other soldiers head on, while Nadine would circle to the secondary emergency entrance built into the base of the missile silo's launch door not far away. From there, she would either use it to—hopefully—give themselves an edge as well as to cut off any attempts by the Soldiers to slip away, or to confirm that it was blocked as Barnes was fairly certain he remembered was the case.
They needed to be sure the Five's potential routes out of the base were as limited as possible. It was a risk—they could just as easily box themselves in—but one they had to take.
They couldn't risk even one Soldier getting out.
Even the way her lips still tingled with the fleeting kiss Steve had stolen before they'd separated couldn't distract her from that single, critical fact.
Nadine's senses were on high alert, her gun firm against her shoulder as she made her way toward the massive, rounded structure jutting out from the snow-covered landscape just shy of the cliff-face.
Oddly enough, the way the frigid wind and the sharp crystals it whipped around her burned at every scrap of exposed skin was bizarrely comforting. Unsettling, given how it brought with it a sense of timelessness—it was hard not to recall exercises and training sessions carried out in similar conditions years and years before—but still...comforting. It helped centre her, helping her allow everything but her focus on the mission to melt away. She knew this. She knew how to block out discomforts like the sting of blowing ice crystals on her cheeks or the way her cold fingertips nearly felt hot before the sensation slowly gave way to numbness. She knew how to cope with the cold, and she made excellent use of the skills the Red Room taught her to do just that.
And step by quick, measured step, she approached the silo.
A few minutes more and she was huffing in frustration. Sure enough, as Barnes had been fairly sure was the case, the manhole built into the edge of the silo's launch hatch was fused shut. The only way anyone was getting out that way was if they were to open the massive iron hatch itself.
It was mixed news. Reassuring in that it did as they hoped and limited potential escape routes available to the Five, but disappointing in that it also limited any potential advantage Nadine might have been able to glean from slipping in to flank them using it.
But it was what it was, and Nadine shunted her disappointment aside as she leapt lightly down from the exposed ledge of the submerged concrete structure.
She was halfway back to the base's main entrance when a prickling sensation on the back of her neck warned her she wasn't alone.
And she was already spinning, her M4 snapping up even as a familiar metallic clunk sounded behind her.
For a long, tense moment, neither she nor Tony Stark moved a muscle, her sight fixed on his faceplate and his palm repulsors aimed right back at her.
"You've got some nerve," she finally remarked coolly to break the impasse. Stark's frame eased as he straightened slightly. Wary, Nadine's eyes narrowed as his hands dropped. It was only fractionally, possibly even unconsciously, but it was enough to give her pause even as it had her focus sharpening further still.
"There I was expecting you to shoot first and scold me later," he quipped back. She fought back a huff of irritation. Oh, how part of her was tempted... But she kept the thought to herself, not even allowing a twitch to betray it. The fact that his stance had been in response to her own reaction to his appearance wasn't lost on her; he hadn't attacked, which they both knew he would've had to if he'd had any hope of taking her out quickly. In fact, he'd blatantly surrendered his advantage. It spoke volumes.
As did the way the glow of his palm repulsors dimmed. She was hard-pressed to keep her features impassive as he straightened further, his hands dropping to his side. Her eyes narrowed further and, after a moment, she let her own defensive stance relax, her aim dropping from its lock on Stark's helmet.
Though she didn't lower her gun from her shoulder completely.
Given everything that had happened in Leipzig? She was still far too mad and irritated with the man to do otherwise.
Not to mention suspicious of his motives.
"Why are you here?" She asked instead of responding to his half-hearted attempt at diffusing the tension between them. With a muffled series of clunks, his helmet retracted, revealing Tony's grim features. The already painful looking bruise on his right eye from Berlin was worse, having grown and darkened to spill over onto his cheekbone, and had been joined by a rather nasty looking contusion on his right temple. But neither of those injuries detracted from the serious light in his eyes even as his lips twitched in the semblance of his characteristic irreverent grin. With an affected nonchalance, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly in deliberation.
"Would you believe it's to help?" She didn't bother answering, merely raising a skeptical, questioning brow at him. He let out a theatrical sigh.
"I get it, I screwed up," he bit out, his frustration and impatience clear.
And masking the guilt and remorse she could see shadowing his drawn features.
This time, Nadine couldn't help her wry huff, interrupting with a dry, "you think?" His nose wrinkled in indignation, but, with visible effort, he ignored the dig.
Nadine was admittedly somewhat impressed.
"I never should've brought Nina into this," he continued, briskly. "I never intended for her to get hurt." Nadine hesitated at the regret she clearly read written all over him despite his best efforts to mask it. But before she could say anything, he sighed heavily, head tilting back as his features screwed up in aversion at the snow drifting down around him. "Okay, this is just distracting." And Nadine nearly sighed herself; he was back to deflecting. But then, that was a sign nearly in and of itself, wasn't it. Her gun lowered.
"I don't have time for this," she muttered, continuing on toward the base entrance, stepping neatly around the metal-suited Avenger to do so. Stark could make his roundabout apologies later. She had a job to do. Steve and Barnes were counting on her backup.
Only to hesitate as Stark spoke up behind her.
"That's it? You know, you're taking what happened in Leipzig awfully well, Mama Ghost. You're keeping a very cool head...well...now you are. Wasn't really the case at the Airport," he chattered on, seemingly unperturbed. She turned, fixing him with a carefully impassive look. A look he met. She couldn't say she was surprised that his attempt at banter was a smokescreen for the decidedly serious and even remorseful there-and-gone shadow in his eyes.
"Yes, well, it's never been disputed that I'm much better at keeping my personal feelings out of my missions," she sniped back. Stark's lips thinned.
"That was a little harsh, wasn't it? I'm trying to mend bridges, here," he said, almost petulant as he gestured widely to himself. Not that it entirely masked the flicker of hurt at the rebuttal. Nadine nearly bit her tongue as a snarl threatened to break through her carefully composed mask.
"In case you haven't noticed, Stark, there's something a little more serious than my anger at you going on, just now," she countered coolly. "But after, you can bet I'm going to tear you apart just like you tore my daughter's life apart by bringing her into this mess." To his credit, Stark winced at her bald statement. Something that admittedly gave her a degree of satisfaction.
"That was never my intention, Ryker," he said softly, far more sedate than he'd been even a moment before, his voice almost harsh in his sincerity. "I swear, I did everything I could to shield her in exchange for her help." Nadine allowed herself a small, weary sigh before her expression instinctively hardened again as she looked up at him.
"But it wasn't good enough, was it," she said simply. Almost without inflection. "She's now just as wanted as Steve, Barnes and I are." Stark's jaw tensed and his gaze dropped as though her voice had been thick with accusation. His silence was confirmation enough that her suspicions were right. Oh, how she'd hoped she was wrong...
Inhaling deeply against the churning swell of emotion threatening to rise up in her chest, she turned again, resuming her trek through the snow. The wind had mercifully begun to die down, lessening the bite of the cold through her uniform.
"You were right, you know." She paused as Tony once more called after her, glancing back again despite her better judgement. Stark was looking at the entrance behind her, head nodding unconsciously as his jaw worked anxiously. After a moment he met her eye, hands lifting in an absent echo to the way his shoulders hitched in a shrug. "I admit it. You and Cap were right. Ross has pretty much hijacked the Accords where The Avengers are concerned. Doesn't care. Power-tripping. Not interested in actually saving the world. All that. Happy?" Nadine's head tilted incredulously even as she fought not to groan.
"You really think Steve and I wanted to be right, Stark?" she challenged tightly, fixing him with an admonishing look. He drew in a slow breath, fighting back the snap of temper she caught flaring in his dark eyes.
"Wrong choice of words. More 'are you happy that I'm admitting I was wrong' happy," he shot back. Nadine let out a slow breath of her own, consciously willing her grip on her M4 to loosen.
He really could be infuriating.
Yet, dammit if she didn't feel a minute flash of sympathy for the man.
"Still not something we wanted to be right about, given the circumstances," she countered. But she held back any further admonishment by sheer force of will. He was here to help, apparently, and she was far too aware that they needed all the help they could get to risk turning him away.
No matter how she felt about his role bringing Nina into all of this. Or in not trusting them—trusting Steve—in the first place.
This wasn't the time or the place to get into all of that.
"I don't suppose you managed to bring anyone else along, did you," she asked, changing the subject. She didn't quite know how to feel about the relief that flickered across his features before being hidden away behind his usual, albeit more solemn than typical, roguish expression.
"You aren't even a little happy to see me?"
"Don't push it, Stark," Nadine said as she started walking once more. He wasn't quite able to stifle his chuckle.
"Yes, well, it's just me. Ross—"
"Which one?" she cut in dryly. She caught him shooting her an amused smirk as he fell into step beside her.
"The one that doesn't like you," he clarified dismissively. She spared him another skeptical, questioning look.
"They both don't like me," she pointed out. Tony nearly rolled his eyes, his smirk widening.
"The Secretary of State one." She fixed him with another impassive look as she paused next to the open door of the base. Not that she was entirely able to keep the corner of her mouth from twitching in a minute smirk of her own. Stark snorted. She jerked her head toward the door. At his gesture for her to go first, she ducked inside rather than waste time arguing.
It took an act of will to keep from giving into the urge to chafe some feeling back into her hands at the slight rise in temperature being inside afforded. But Nadine resisted, striding forward along the route Barnes had briefly described before she'd split off from him and Steve.
Stark following behind her, palm repulsors ready and helmet once more firmly in place, the pair swiftly moved deeper into the base. It seemed Tony had finally caught onto the urgency that had been thrumming in Nadine's chest since the Quinjet set down. He followed without comment, just as alert, serious and silent as Nadine was.
At least until they turned down the corridor that Nadine believed would lead them to the elevator Barnes had described as the fastest way down to the chamber where the cryostasis units were housed.
"So what was the plan?" Tony asked lowly, his murmur breaking the thick silence that coated the corridor like the layer of dust that was beginning to overtake the base; it seemed clear no one had visited in at least a couple years. Likely since Barnes had gone rogue, if she were to guess. "Rogers and Barnes draw the focus while you circle around and pick them off from behind?" Nadine hummed absently in answer as they approached the elevator and its heavy—closed—doors.
"Something like that," she said as she examined the doors and the keypad used to activate it. Judging by the smudged and displaced film of dust on the buttons, Barnes had remembered the code and had been able to activate the elevator. With a little effort, Nadine figured she could puzzle out what it had been. Either than or she could simply manually override it, she mused, considering the access plate beneath the antiquated keypad.
Only for Stark to make the choice unnecessary by taking advantage of his suit's strength to simply pry the doors open, revealing the empty shaft behind them. Peering down, it was safe to say the elevator car was at the very bottom. Tony looked back to her before gesturing to their left.
"Then you'll want to go that way." She settled back on her heels, fixing him with yet another impassive, challenging look. He just shrugged before tapping at his helmet's temple with a metal finger before lifting the faceplate. "There's another way down about 20 feet along the hall that, if my readouts are correct—which they always are—will let you out in the perfect position to do your Ghost-y thing." Nadine studied him for a moment, well aware that he'd lifted the helmet's faceplate so she could read in his face as well as his words that he was in earnest. That he wasn't simply trying to ditch her so he could go after Steve and Barnes without her interference. He was shrewdly perceptive despite his affected irreverence, she had to give him that. She let out a slow exhale, unable to find any trace of deception in his features. He might be better at hiding what was actually going on in his head—when he wanted to, of course—than he was often given credit for, but he wasn't that good.
At his smirk, she was severely tempted to roll her eyes.
Instead she simply nodded, adjusting her grip on her M4 and turning to follow the corridor down the way Stark had pointed. Sure enough, she'd barely made it a couple steps before she could glimpse the edge of what was certainly a stairwell down into the heart of the former missile silo.
Down to where the Five Winter Soldiers they were here to stop waited.
She paused, looking back to Tony.
"Stark?" He turned from his consideration of the elevator shaft at the sound of her voice, just enough so that she could just barely see his face around the edge of his helmet. "What you'll be up against down there? It's what they were trying to recreate—to fix—when they made me. They're what they wanted Barnes to be. The evolution, even of what they made him, only worse. Far worse." Stark twisted, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. She grimly held his gaze. But then resolve took over his features and, with a curt nod, his faceplate clunked back into place.
"Careful, Ryker," he said cheekily as his repulsors activated, "or I might just think you care about what happens to me." As he manoeuvred himself into the empty elevator shaft, Nadine rolled her eyes, unable to help herself.
Incorrigible man.
Huffing to herself as she shifted her focus back where it was supposed to be, she began to move swiftly down the corridor. All the while absently wishing they hadn't decided to leave their earpieces on the Quinjet. Not that they were likely to work considering the hundreds—thousands of pounds of rock and concrete between the surface and their destination and thus her and her two teammates.
Still, it would've been nice to at least try and give Steve and Barnes a heads up about the company that was coming up behind them. To warn them that Stark was, believe it or not, friendly.
For the moment, at least.
Not that she doubted that, should this mission go as they all hoped, Tony would do everything he could to spin it to get Steve, Nadine and the rest of their team—perhaps even Barnes—out of as much trouble as he could. She might not be Stark's biggest fan at the moment, but she didn't doubt Tony had his friends' best interests at heart.
She sighed to herself at the admission.
Only to freeze.
The prickle on the back of her neck had returned.
At once her already sharpened senses were dialled up way past high alert and bordering on extrasensory. But she didn't turn. She didn't allow herself to tense or give any outward sign that her finely tuned instincts had detected some minute change, warning her once again that she was no longer alone.
Instead, she waited until the last possible second to react, intent on using their believed undetected approach to her own advantage.
She just didn't realize how close they'd already gotten.
She only barely flinched aside as a grasping hand complete with glinting claws flashed past her head.
But it still wasn't quite enough.
Even as she spun, her gun already snapping up, the clawed hand flashed out again, ripping the M4 from her grip to clatter across the dust-coated floor.
Followed closely by the forearm attached to its fisted mate slamming across her chest, sending her careening into the wall with a crunch of crumbling concrete.
And her head impacted with a sharp crack that had her sinuses stinging, lights flashing in her eyes and a metallic taste coating her throat.
She slid to the ground, her vision blurring and finally going black as a sleek, black-suited figure straightened above her.
And Nadine knew nothing more.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
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