Ever since we were kids, it was always two. Two hours together, two battles, two drinks, two days. No matter what we did to avoid doing anything in two's, that number always showed up. And eventually, we accepted it. Guess what year.
2012.
The year we were found, after being asleep for 72 years. Steve and I were found in the plane he had no choice but to crash, frozen in time, holding hands in the what we thought would be the last time we breathed. We accepted that two people found, that it took two hours to get us awake and alive. Man, were we a medical miracle. "Steve, Y/N. You're wanted in Briefing Room—"
I cut the agent off by saying, "Two. Briefing Room Two." Steve let out a sigh so quiet, any "chatter" in the room would need to be sucked out to hear it. The chairs creaked as we stood from them, waltzing just down the hall to the briefing room. "What's up?"
"Sit, you two." There's that word again, that number. We were always associated with it, no matter the situation. "Y/N, your powers haven't exactly been explained. Steve has told us but it doesn't make sense. Would you care to elaborate?" Ian calmly asks, scooting closer despite the bigger man standing behind me.
"I can create fire just by looking at anything, distance set aside and thinking about the word fire. And if I want something explode, I just say that or think it and it works just as well." His hand flew behind him to the coffee maker to elaborate and two seconds later, a little explosion was heard, shards of metal and plastic flying in every direction. Some nicked me and the agent, giving the two of us micro cuts, others scraping the brand new windows.
"That proves it. I was just curious. Fury wants you two to go on a two week mission. Two copies of the file are here," he paused, tossing one by Steve's side of the table. "and here." The agent gently sat it in front of me, hopping off the edge of the table, hitting the carpeted ground with a dull thud, the vibration muffled by the material.
"Birmingham. What has Birmingham," I skimmed the file for anything on why they needed us in England, finally finding it. "Damn. These coppers in Birmingham can't do their damn job. Just shoot the fuckers..." I mumbled, not letting on that I knew these people from being in the military. Steve didn't question my feelings, knowing better. He had learned the hard way.
"Y/N, why do you insist on going into airforce? Go into the army, so I can keep an eye on you, so Bucky can!" He argued, chasing after me as I paved a path to the enlistment building.
"Steve, believe me, I would! But Peggy Carter has already paved a path for women in the army, I wanna be the pilot little girls can have on their walls and salute, to look up to. Even though Amelia Earhart exists, little girls of today don't remember her. I don't want to replace the first woman pilot who flew across the U.S. but I wanna be the same, I want to accomplish things she did... I want," I sniffled, standing in line behind the men enlisting. The looks I took on were of disbelief, most of them laughed. "I want to be remembered, I want to pave a path for the women of now and later on." Steve grabbed my elbow to yank me out of this crazy idea when one of the men surrounding me shoved Steve off, nodding to me.
I didn't know who threw the first punch, but suddenly his fist was slamming into my face while I sunk into his stomach. Blood pooled in my mouth as he gagged. We stumbled apart for a brief second to catch our breaths before diving back at each other, eyes narrowed in determination. He dodged my fist and came up with his own; for a brief instant, my cerulean blue eyes widened before I managed to tilt her head back and slam it into his. Stars burst in his vision but he shook it off, blindly throwing a sloppy kick.
With my own two hands I grasped his head in my hands and brought my knee cap up to his nose, there was a blunt crack and I released his dark haired head. Crimson leaked from both his nostrils and his nose was twisted right. I was about to go right for the jugular when an officer pulled me off in a chokehold. Thank god for my parents sending me to foreign fighting classes since I was young. "Y/ N?" Steve whispered, going to grab my face and pulling back, noticing the bruises on my face already. They weren't a thick purple, they were a yellow, a deep purple blooming in the middle. It would be worse tomorrow.
"What's your name, madam?" The soldier holding asked, loosening the hold on my neck but nonetheless having me restrained.
"Y/N Y/L/N, sir. I would like to enlist into the Air Force, sir." He nodded, holding me the same way and skipping the line. The scrawny boy that had followed me in here, followed me back. I thought about the jacket he had been wearing earlier, saying 'fire' in my head. Poor thing, it took him a minute or two to realize that his jacket AND shirt were on fire. He caught my smirking eye, rolling his and turning out. I would be alright here, he decided then and there.
Steve didn't see me until we met at the drop site, having took different planes. "Listen, Birmingham is still as dangerous as it was back in the 40's, okay?" I held onto his bicep as I tried to keep my head down. For the reason that people's relatives of those I used to know would see me, perhaps know me. That's more trouble than we need, seeing they're the reason we're here. But it was too late and the youngest, Michael, approached me. "Y/N? The Y/N Y/L/N?"
"Yes, Michael, It's me." He kind of smiled, then noticed Steve, gulping down the saliva in his mouth. Michael stepped back, eyeing for us to follow him to the bar up ahead. "Steve, stay outside. They don't trust people they don't know."
"How exactly do you know these," he pointed directly at Michael. "thugs?"
"I used to be one of the most respected gang owners in England, Steve. I ran with these people." Michael winked at Steve, taking me into the bar. Loud cheering was heard and chants heard next.
Steve watched people enter, suspicious people who eyed him unevenly. He doubted himself, no. Not himself. He doubted Y/N. 'Could she terminate them without remorse? She can usually kill someone while staring straight into their soul and not care. Then tell the kids, if they had any, that it was a tragic mugging gone wrong. Nothing phased her.' He thought, taking a seat on the ground.
Moments later I was arm in arm with the third oldest Lee brother, John, laughing. "Steve, if you'd like to follow us, we're going to the Epsom Derby." John paid no attention to the man accompanying me, walking on to the dresser. "Your man is gonna need to change his attire, should he choose to come."
"Steve wouldn't go anywhere without me. It's not vice versa, John. I'd go places without him, like I'd rather go to the Derby without him. But Birmingham is still as dangerous as I remember. He wouldn't survive here on his own, no one here trusts a foreigner, ain't that right, John?" is John smirked lifting me up into the car, Steve pushing himself into the car behind us.
"Now, we have some business to do up at the tracks so you and your boy go get us some drinks, our seats. Yeah?" I nodded, quiet the whole way to the Derby. John didn't dare question me, fearing the power I still wielded in this town, on these people. Birmingham was my home, my territory, all citizens knew it. And if they didn't, I'd make them.
It was 1932, and my crew had just arrived in England. The gang I ran secretly, without governmental knowledge, greeted me with a tip of their walking by and I reciprocated the movements. The moment I had stepped back into this beloved place, my people had more power than the Lee's, than the rest of them.
Setting up the bunk, hiding anything to do with Birmingham, I snuck off base. They met me three or so miles down the road, driving me to the races. Thomas Lee, the oldest at this time, grabbed my hand to help me off. The mud sucked on shoes, bubbling as I departed from the brothers to the concessions. People were screaming and shouting already albeit the race hadn't started. They bewildered me, a small town American girl, owning a gang halfway across the world. Two men approached me, none that I knew, here for one purpose that would not be allowed. "Men."
"What's a pretty little lady like you doing all alone in a place like this?" I stood on my tippy toes, dragging my thumb down his lips, parting them and smiling. As I walked away, both of them got the signal to follow me to the empty stalls. Each shared a look as my fingertips grazed the top of my gun, giving me an edge, a high. Killing gave me a high, like I was born to do it, a natural. And it wasn't the high snow gave me, it was the high and orgasm gave and boy, did that make a bigger difference.
At first, I let them do what they will. One man— taller— forced me against the wall, the ridged material cutting a streak in my sensitive, running down and catching the collar of the suit. The other man— shorter — began nipping at my ear, sucking and biting on the skin surrounding it. That's when it happened. Carefully and quietly I took my gun from it's holster, putting it under my armpit, out of sight. I shot the guy having fun of my neck and quickly made sure to shoot the other guy, laughing. "This? This is what you get for messing with the worst of the worst." Their heads lolled to the sides after the final two shots, leaving me kind of high and in a state of shock because that just happened.
I should've waited for Steve to show up like he said he would in his letter. I bet he did. So I quite literally ran into his figure, or did I? "Steve? What the hell happened to you? You're.... taller." His soft lips stretched into a smile but didn't quite reach his dark eyes. They were lit with sadness, and the forced expression of the contrary on his mouth would have looked comical to me if it didn't make my heart feel heavy. For a few moments I stared at him, almost sure his expression mirrored mine. It broke my heart.
"You should have waited for me."
"I should have."
"You're not going alone. Remember last time?" He was referencing the time I almost let myself be raped by two men. It was a vivid memory, almost like it happened yesterday or hours earlier.
"Yes, I... I don't think I'd ever forget, Steve. Rape isn't just something you forget. No matter how long it's been." I trudged on, digging my fingernails into my skin until I felt blood wetting the tips. Steve jogged up to my side, grasping my elbow and dragging me into a phone booth stall. Our faces were inches apart, the breathing a little heavy.
Steve sighed like a slight spring breeze, soft and gentle, almost lost against the drone of the traffic of Derby goers. "We both know that's not how I meant it," he started, watching my eye twitch, my tell of disbelief. "but Y/N I don't—"
"The reason it happened is because I asked for it without telling them. So, technically, it wasn't rape but the killing was the traumatic part. I let them follow me. And I was on a mission ordered by an agent of the crown. They were men I needed to kill, people Winston Churchill needed dead. So I did what needed to be done, by all means necessary. That's the part no one knew. Until now." Words left him. He stared into my bright blue eyes burning with disappointment and embarrassment, and his heart fell silent. His lips couldn't find the will to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as as he processed it.
"We'll talk later, after you do what needs to be done here. Can you carry it out?" Steve's warm hands cupped my cheeks in his hands, swiping over the scar covering my right cheekbone.
"Yeah but we have to leave Birmingham right after. Because the Solomons will be after me. The rest of my people can handle themselves. Unless you'd like me to stay here. Make sure no innocent die." He kissed me and the world stopped spinning on it's axis. The kiss itself was slow and steady, prompting my body to relax, like a puppet master released my strings.
We hovered right there, quite soundless for so long, simply feeling each other's presence. "You can stay in Birmingham, just please... Be safe. I don't want you to die and no one in America to know." I casually exited the booth with him, ordering 24 drinks. The look we got from the cashier made us snicker.
"Here you go. 24... drinks. Hopefully it's a group of people." I carefully and inconspicuously added the liquid that would end all problems now and create more later. This drug was undetectable when a coroner or medical examiner took a toxin exam. It doused the system, then disappeared somehow. Never really understood the science behind it. But, in my benefit, it took a while to kill its host.
It was dark when we began driving back, slumped over on people's shoulders from exhaustion. Our throats burned from screaming in favor of horses and the boys still didn't suspect a thing. They drove home laughing, uproariously so. We had won our bet, therefor, had won a shit load of money. "We did it, Y/N! We fucking did it!" Michael yelled, laughing like nothing was wrong.
"Yeah, Michael. We did it." I gave off a half hearted smile, playing off the sadness as sickness and exhaustion. These people were my family, despite being mere history to most of them. If I told them that I knew their parents, grandparents, they'd think the truth was insane. But today would be the day the Lee family would disappear. And the day my heart would go with them.
Two Days Later
Yesterday was the day we flew back and the day we packed away my stuff. I still agreed to work for Shield, for Stark as long as it was on my own terms and no interruptions. Here in England would be my second home. Here in England would be living in the fast lane. Here in England would be me keeping everyone in check.