Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were damn near whistling as you skipped through the elevator doors and towards the research lab, your shoes clip-clip-clicking on the gleaming tile floor of the hallway.

Everything had gone right this morning.

Not only had you woken up before your alarm, but you’d found your favorite missing sock in your search for an umbrella. Then, after all was said and done, you managed to NOT forget your umbrella. That had been a godsend, considering the monsoon that opened up the minute you stepped out of the 42nd street subway station. 

Your most recent victory however? The beloved bodega cat you saw every morning while securing your cheap breakfast actually purred while you pet him today.

Mr. Fluffy was the stingiest old cat in New York, and yet he had purred just for you.

You’d had a grin on your face the size of the Statue of Liberty throughout your entire rain drenched commute, making your way through the city before coming to a stop in front of the tall building you were proud to call your office.

Avengers tower could be a little… imposing, sure. 

It was the second highest building in Manhattan, only coming in close second to the Empire State because Thor ( Mr. Thor, really. He was technically your boss, after all.) had managed to take a little off the top during his latest visit. 

This was, of course, much to the chagrin of Mr. Stark, who’d had an appointment with people from the Guiness Book of World Records that same day.

But, even with all the superheroes, weird noises from the upper levels, and flickering lights whenever Thor did decide to make an appearance, your work life was pretty normal.

.

..

…Okay, that was a total lie.

You loved your job; Mainly because it was so freaking abnormal.

For the last two and a half years, you’d been working on a small team of 15 people that did research for all of the Avenger’s needs. 

Your job was varied as a researcher, every day calling for a different task. Mainly, you did research on the many aspects of the team's missions. You’d comb through maps, ancient texts, and food delivery sites on the daily, just so that earth’s mightiest heroes would have a leg up on whatever they were walking into. Of course, you also dealt with the occasional call upstairs to show Thor how to use the Keurig. Again.

Continuing your walk down the long hallway, you passed numerous photos of the team, a soft smile growing on your face. 

Your team had all come from a variety of different backgrounds. Some were Ivy league graduates, others, ex-government. But Betsy, a middle-aged mother of three, had been working at Jimmy John’s (with a photographic memory and a penchant for going full blown FBI on her friend’s exes) when Tony Stark had found her. 

Michael, the sweetest old army vet you’d ever met (with a love of Jeopardy that put him two degrees away from being absolutely obsessed) was working as a Walmart greeter when he’d interviewed for the position.

And you?

It's always been easy for you to research things that you were interested in. 

You were able to go on deep dives for hours, mining through niche information on the dustiest corners of the internet just to quench a thirst for knowledge. 

Sometimes it was old videos on how the British army had used dead rats armed with explosives as weapons in WWII. Other times, it was articles explaining how exactly lemon juice worked so well at eating away at blood stains. 

At one point, you’d found yourself at home on a Friday night, sifting through the US patent database as you tried to figure out who exactly had designed an old depression glass you’d found at the thrift store.

You’d always felt as though your skills were commonplace, though. 

Surely anyone could figure out a search engine, couldn’t they? Find out what sources were credible? Know how to use the street view function on Google Earth? How to word a question to an online database to receive relevant information back?

…As it turned out, not everyone did. 

But you were incredibly good at it. 

On a whim, you’d applied for the job when it looked like being a barista truly was not gonna cut it for your Brooklyn apartment. In a feat that had taken you by complete surprise, you’d made it through several extensive interviews and preliminary exams with flying colors. 

(The first task? Pick a lock with just a bobby pin. Pretty quickly, you’d realized that no one had said you couldn’t use your phone. After a minute of searching, you’d pulled up a YouTube tutorial on the specific lock brand, unclasping it in seconds. Several ex-CIA attempting the same task were either A.) Complaining about the assignment or B.) Stuffing the bobby pin in the lock over and over again, to no avail.)

There was something to be said for having common sense and a willingness to ask questions.

Fast forward two years later, and you were living in Brooklyn with a stable job that kept your interests, health insurance with a fabulous dental plan, and a calm, peacefully chaotic life.

You were happy. 

Really, truly, happy. 

…So why’d it all have to go to shit?

.

.

.

“ Good moooorningg~ ” You sing-songed as you pushed open the door to the office, your ID lanyard clinking merrily along with your steps, the couple of keychains you’d attached to it shuffling metallically against the front of your white blouse. 

Your scuffed Mary-Janes clomped along the floor, the gleaming tile quickly turning into scratchy carpet flooring as you entered the room, glancing around at the few scattered faces. 

“Morning, Y/N.” Melissa smiled at you over the lip of her Black Widow mug, her coily dark hair highlighted in amber with the morning sun that came through the window. The rain had stopped almost as soon as you’d reached the building, the grey clouds over the city dissipating almost instantaneously.

(One perk of working at the Avengers tower? All the free merch you got. Your Vision slippers were amazing, but your real favorite was the tiny Winter Soldier keychain you had lovingly attached to your house keys.)

Your coworker eyed you up and down with a raised eyebrow as you entered, humming.

“What’s got you so happy today?” She asked, swiveling in her chair to face you as you walked by. 

Yours and Melissa's desks were right behind each other, leaving you ample opportunity to spin around and bother her when there was no immediate world saving to be done.

You shrugged simply, trying to keep a neutral face. (You failed miserably.)

“Wellll…nothing much.” You twirled the seat around with your hands before plopping down into it, a devilish look in your eyes. 

“Except Mr. Fluffy totally purred when I pet him today.” 

Melissa nearly spit out her tea. 

“What!?” She yelped. “Before me?! Oh, that little traitor.” She tsk-ed loudly.

You laughed, setting down your bag at your desk. 

It was definitely the most colorful one out of all your coworkers, covered in little trinkets and figurines that you’d brought from home and received from the bi-weekly drop off of extra merchandise from one of many disgruntled PR assistants. 

You stretched your arms to the ceiling, sighing happily. “

Well, you win some, you lose some.” You had a smug look on your face and by god you knew it. That cat was one of the most important things in your life and- Well. That sounds a little sad, doesn’t it?

“So, what’s on the docket for today?” You changed the subject, reaching to grab your trusty headset from where it hung off your monitor and distracting yourself from any possible existential wormholes about one of the closest people in your life being a cat (that wasn’t even yours). 

Melissa shrugged nonchalantly, her light pink blazer puckering at the shoulders. 

“Not much, currently. Finishing up on recon for Widow’s latest mission to Bucharest. God, if she keeps getting sent there I’m really gonna need to learn Romanian instead of just using Google Translate. These transportation logs are thick as shit.” She muttered, dark eyes narrowing as she glared at the computer screen.

You laughed in commiseration. Picking up languages was an unexpected perk of the job, but when you had to sift through international documents on the daily, it was definitely a necessary one. 

“I can lend you my dictionary if you want. How’s Widow doing anyway? That last mission was a little dicey.” You said, taking a long slurp of your iced coffee.

Being in the research department, you did have some interaction with earth’s mightiest heroes, Black Widow being no exception. After all, Your team was responsible for any and all information and resources that they might need going into a mission.

Any mission. 

Sure, there were the maps and documents you’d mentioned before, but your job encompassed so much.

It was incredibly varied as a researcher, every day calling for a different task. Mainly, you did research on the many aspects of the team's missions. You’d comb through maps, ancient texts, and food delivery sites on the daily, just so that earth’s mightiest heroes would have a leg up on whatever they were walking into. 

Of course, you also dealt with the occasional call upstairs to show Thor how to use the Keurig.

(Again.)

But still, the research itself could range from literally anything, from simply finding out the weather in a country (probably shouldn’t send the Falcon to Indonesia solo during monsoon season, what with visibility in the air being key for him to succeed), to the general fashions of a new location (so they didn’t stick out like sore, touristy thumbs even with Captain America’s obnoxiously large shield), or even weirdly specific things; 

Like, how many Mattress Firms are located in the great state of Texas? 

It actually has the most in the country.

The research team also acted as the first line of contact in receiving incoming missions.

Thousands of tips flooded in daily from anonymous sources, ones directly from trusted informants or governments bypassing spam filters in order of importance, leaving your group of 15 to sift through what was most pressing. 

“No, Madame Prime Minister, we can’t send Captain America to help you pick out your evening wear for the UN conference.” 

“I’m sorry Lieutenant General, but Ms. Maximoff is unavailable to read your wife’s mind to find out if she’s having an affair.”

“No sir, Tony Stark won’t be able to make an appearance at Lollapalooza…Angus Young? You’re sure?...I’ll send him a message.” 

If you didn’t get a direct tip, one of the many international news channels playing in the background would alert you to any breaking news around the globe. 

Add all of that up with Stark’s massive research database and cutting edge Wifi? You were golden.

On the darker side of it all, the place where your anxious thoughts crept, you’d been acutely aware of the fact that FRIDAY, the ever-present (seemingly all-powerful) AI that ran Stark tower would probably be able to do your job twice as easily with minimal effort and less money. 

You’d shyly confessed your fears to Melissa in the break room early on, but she’d assuaged your fears easily, a cup of coffee in her hands and a friendliness in her eyes. 

“Mr. Stark made it a point to make sure that there would be humans at the backbone of the Avengers- Not robots.” She’d sipped her instant coffee as she looked out the large window overlooking the city. 

“After Ultron and all the corruption at SHIELD with HYDRA, the Avengers needed failsafes behind them. Trusted individuals that weren’t as easy to hack into as a computer system. That’s why our job is a healthy mix of the human touch, and robotic ease.” She mused, looking at you with a smile. 

“Plus, not everyone on the Avengers wants to get a report from an AI. FRIDAY’s powerful, but she might not be able to anticipate, or even act on certain needs. Like how Mr. Banner always wants to know where the nearest clothing store is going to be before going on a mission, but never asks.”

“FRIDAY can’t be there to pat Thor’s hand as gently as Michael does after the big guy gets frustrated with the Keurig upstairs for the billionth time. Or hand the Black Widow all of her documents in person because she doesn’t trust anything that she can’t see the face of.”

Her words had released an anxious feeling in your chest that you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding onto. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts, and the discussion of the latest Bucharest files was momentarily interrupted by the sound of the door opening. 

Again, while there wasn’t a ton of interaction between your floor and the Avengers quarters, there was still enough familiarity to say “ G’morning, Miss Romanoff” when the redheaded avenger strutted through the door. 

She smiled at you, her straight red hair swishing as she shook her head gently. “I already told you, Y/N, Natasha is just fine.”

You shrugged in your seat, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, yeah. Visit us some more on this floor and I’ll consider it.” You smiled cheekily. 

(Sometimes it hits you that your colleagues are superhumans. 

Other times, like when you caught Bruce Banner walking down the hallway with a small bit of toilet paper stuck to his shoe, you were reminded that there was a key “-human” part to that word.)

“Anything we can help with this morning? Besides the new Bucharest files, that is.” Melissa inquired, already pulling out the hard drive simply labeled BUCH.2 and handing it to her. 

“Yes, actually,” The spy began, a small frown pulling at her lips and a divot forming between her brows as she began to relay new information. 

“I just got out of a meeting with Hill. She was telling me about some sort of…purple sky streaks? Said they’ve been popping up around the tri-state area.” She waved her hands flippantly at purple sky streaks, like she didn’t know quite what it meant either. 

“Told me to pass down the message, see if there was anything to it. Could just be a fake UFO sighting, but you can’t be too careful when you’re talking about aliens these days.” She chuckled.

You and Melissa nodded in tandem as you leaned back in your seat. 

“ Purple sky streaks , huh? Was it like, a northern lights kind of deal? Or more like a laser? Also, this tri-state area specifically?” You immediately began to pepper her with questions. 

Admittedly, you had to. It was literally your job to be nosey. For the good of the people, of course.

Natasha shrugged, but she still frowned. 

“Not sure. It was weirder because she got the tip-” She paused, looking around the room.

“Personally.” She finished, her eyes still narrowed.

Your eyes widened, and Melissa looked at you with concern.

That was…weird.

All tips were filtered through your team. Before tracking down the de-facto head of all background Avengers operations, you would’ve had to hear something about all this. So for Maria Hill, someone who (for federal reasons) doesn’t exist, to get an unsanctioned, anonymous tip…

Well. It was unheard of.

“We’re on it.” Melissa affirmed, already turning around to begin typing on her computer. You nodded in solidarity, immediately straightening in your chair and clicking on your own monitor. “We’ll let you know as soon as we see something.” You declared, fingers already clicking over your keyboard.

The two of you were so busy, locked into the search, that you barely noticed Black Widow’s fond smile. “I know you will. Good luck, ladies.”

As she sashayed back down the hall, the two of you dove into the internet ether, piecing apart a story.

.

.

.

Hours went by, and still you’d found nothing . 

It was around mid-afternoon now, and neither of you had found much more than Natasha had originally told you. 

The few reports of ‘purple lights streaking the sky’ were found on less-than reputable sources, privately owned blogs, and no one seemed to be able to supply a picture anywhere. 

“Ugh…this is so weird.” You groaned in frustration, leaning back from your computer into the seat’s backrest. 

“I can’t find anything on this shit. Are we sure some kid didn’t just like, dial a random number and try to fuck with us?” 

Melissa frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you. 

“The odds aren’t likely,” she started. “Hill’s number is quite literally untraceable. The general public shouldn’t even be able to misdial her. Unless some weirdo prime minister is playing a giant, and frankly, costly , prank on the Avengers, I’ve got no clue where this is even came from.”

You sat in your seat for a few minutes, marinating on the idea that the Canadian Prime Minister was just fucking with you guys for shits and giggles. Where did it come from? Where did any of this come from?

“Shit. If only we had a-”

Something clicked.

You bolted up straight in your seat, a few figurines toppling over with the force. 

“I have an idea.” You whispered. Your fingers began to fly over the keyboard as you spoke, the words coming out in a rush.

“Any of those blogs you found- Try to trace the IP address, or see if they mention a location in the bios. We’ll pin ‘em all up on a map and see if there's a connection. If they’re all coming from the same place, we can send out an agent or two for some field recon.” Your voice was all business despite the comical nature of the Hulk bobblehead that shaking every time your fingers hit the keyboard.

Melissa snapped her fingers in an Aha moment. “Good idea. I’ll get it started.” 

Just like that, you were back in it.

Suddenly, locations were popping up- You had clues.

Wayne, New York. 

Long beach. Perth Amboy. 

Another in Newark. Englewood. Queens. 

Your eyes widened at the addition of each new location. You tried to control the shaking chords in your voice as your fingers stilled, one hand hesitating over the mouse as you placed the final pin. 

“Melissa?” 

Her own furious typing immediately stopped. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was tense. 

You shook your head in disbelief, not even turning to face her as you stared at the pins showcased across your three large monitors. 

“They’re all coming from New York.” You whispered. “Every single report. But there’s something else here.” You scrolled around, clicking madly as you found the dates and times for every entry. Melissa came up behind you, her arm leaning on your headrest as she leaned in to see the screens.

“See this? The entries from Wayne, Long Beach, and Perth Amboy are the oldest. They make a sort of rough triangle when you connect them.” You spoke, a bit of awe mixed in with the strain of your voice as you clicked again and drew on the screen with your finger. 

“What makes it weirder is that each of those entries were posted on the same day, at the same time. All around two days ago, at 3 in the afternoon.” Your tapping gained speed as you quickly shifted between tabs, something in your gut gnawing at you. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was very, very wrong here.

“Newark, Englewood, Queens. All entries posted at the same time. Yesterday at 3 PM.” You traced your finger over the screen once more with the new locations, and the triangle made by the first few posts seemed to grow smaller. 

You leaned back to look at her for a second, trying to hold back the fear in your voice. 

“Look, I’m no scientist, but I know a pattern when I see one. It looks like these pings are zeroing in on something. And if the next entries follow this pattern…” 

Melissa finished your thought. “The tower. It’s in the middle of the triangle.” Her eyes widened comically, and if the situation hadn’t been so damn serious you easily would’ve laughed.

“A target.” She whispered.

Your finger slammed on the mouse, pressing Print faster than you thought possible, scrambling to save the screenshots and maps to a hard drive. 

“Melissa, it’s 2:50 right now. If something happens, if there’s anything to these reports-” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a panic. 

She nodded her head quickly, catching your meaning instantly, her shoulders tense. “I’ll get Hill. You find Black Widow, now. She should be in a meeting-The 93rd floor. Quick!” Melissa yelped. 

You nodded frantically, your lanyard whipping around as you violently ripped the papers out of the printer, taking off in a dead spring down the hall. Everything smelt like fresh ink laced with panic.

“Excuse me! Coming through!” 

You thanked the universe for Tony Stark’s weirdly fast elevators, resuming your sprinting as soon as the elevator doors opened up to the 93rd floor. You checked your watch as you ran, 2:55 gleaming on your wrist.

Shitshitshitshit-

“Widow!” You yelped, your eyes wide as you scanned the hallways, ripping open random doors to empty meeting rooms as you went.

“Natasha!” You were practically screaming as you barrelled down the hallways. Time was of the essence, could make or break the lives of everyone in the tower if you were right. 

Best case scenario? I embarrass myself horribly. No one would get hurt, though. You tried to calm yourself, but the pounding of your Mary-Janes on the tile gave away your true feelings. 

“ Natasha, where the fu-” Your exasperated and slightly panicked shout was desperate to find Natasha. 

Or really, any of the Avengers at this point. 

You just didn’t think you’d find all of them so quickly. 

Your words cut off as you skidded into a very full meeting room. God, had they always been this blurry? You leaned against the doorframe, heaving for air as your voice died down. 

“-ck are you.” You blew out a gust of air, only mildly concerned by the fact that you were now standing, sweat already dripping down your back, in front of a room full of the strongest people on the planet.

…and half of them had their weapons raised at you. 

In fact, judging by the gleaming silver knife embedded in the drywall next to your head, some were a bit more startled than others. 

“Y/N? What the hell is-” Black Widow straightened fully, her expression morphing into surprise as she lowered her gun from where it had been poised at you. 

You held the papers in your hand, shaking them slightly as you picked yourself up from the doorframe. “Emergency.” You croaked, your throat slightly dry from anxiety, physical exertion and some very, very, fearful emotions. 

“The lights. Tower m-might be compromised.” You gasped out. 

Note to self: Do not break out at a dead sprint ever again. This sucks.

It was like a shockwave of surprise, a million questions hitting your ears at once.

“Uh, who is-” “From the research team-” “The tower’s compromised?” “Did Hill send her-”  

You looked around the room, a muddled mess of heroes all speaking at once as they devolved into chaos that you knew did not have time for.

“HEY!” You yelped, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked. Shit, maybe your throat was just dry from all of the yelling you’d been doing. 

…Or maybe it was the fact that some of your bobble-heads and keychains were all standing in front of you with wide eyes like you were an anomaly they didn’t know much to do with.

To your surprise, though, they all fell quiet. 

“We’ve got about-” You checked your watch, lifting your sleeve with the papers still clasped between your fingers. “T-minus three minutes until something very, very bad might happen around here. We need to evacuate all personnel immediately. I don’t have a ton of time to explain, but I will as soon as that order goes out, okay? I’d much rather be very wrong, mortified, and safe about this than I would be very dead, right and with my dignity intact.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tony Stark quickly tap something into a small tablet. Almost instantly, the smartwatch on your wrist buzzed with an emergency protocol warning. You breathed a small sigh of relief exhaling, as the many famous faces continued to blur together through your anxiety.

“Now, look. Maria Hill got an anonymous tip of some fucking, purple streaks of light in the sky. Her getting a personal tip is highly unusual , and I can’t stress that enough.” Your attention turned solely to Black Widow. 

“We looked into it. The only mentions of them anywhere on the internet are from these blog entries-”

“We’re evacuating the entire tower based on some blog posts?” A gruff voice bit out to your right, and your tunnel vision wobbled enough to see the goddamned Winter Soldier glowering at you from his seat. 

Holy. Shit.

You would have to unpack the fact that your all-time, top ten favorite, always marry in kiss marry kill- level coworker crush of a superhero was now looking at you like you were the stupidest person on the planet at a later date.

“Well, Mr. Barnes,” You began, your voice shaking from any number of things, before clearing your throat and trying to explain the situation as professionally as possible. 

“My reasoning is based less on the content of the posts and more on this.” You continued, desperately checking your watch in between holding up the map. 

You really, really did not have time for earth’s mightiest to not take you seriously.

“These first three locations mark the IP addresses of the first three posts. All made two days ago at 3PM. They create an almost perfect triangle.” You rushed out, fumbling slightly before holding up the second map.

…Which was upside down. You cursed under your breath before righting it, holding it up defiantly.

“ These are the next three. All made yesterday at 3PM. The triangle is getting smaller, and we’re at the direct center of it. Now I would like to repeat-” You took a breath.

An odd tip to Hill, whose phone is untraceable? Weird patterns zeroing in on the singular tower housing some of the most powerful humans alive?

Yeah. Not taking a chance with that one. 

“The tower is in danger.” You finished

The room immediately splintered into a flurry of action. 

Captain- freaking -America began shouting orders, his commanding voice easily heard over the squeaking chairs and clatter of equipment. 

“Sam- Fly ahead, see if you can find any of these light sources.” Shoes scuffed on the tiles. 

“Wanda, Vision, check the building for any stragglers. Tony, start evacuating the area around the tower in case of debris.” 

Scones and coffees were immediately abandoned without a second thought. 

“Nat, Bucky- Find Hill, see if she can tell us more about the informant. Banner, Barton, you’re with me on the rooftop. Let’s move.” 

People rushed out of the room, a cacophony of voices, comms shoved in as they went. 

You were pretty sure Dr. Banner accidentally shoulder-checked you on his way out. 

“Let’s get you out of here.” You blinked, and in seconds Natasha Romanoff had a gentle but firm hold on your wrist, hauling you out the door. You nodded lamely, quickly finding your footing close at her heels. 

Heavy footfalls fell all around you, and your clomping Mary-Janes were lost in a sea of hi-tech boots. Even as you heard the others drift away, you heard a third set of stomps echoing from behind you.

“Nat, you heard Steve. We have to go find Hill.” 

Oh, that voice.  

You’d daydreamed about that voice.

…And now it was slightly annoying you.

By the looks of it, it was more than slightly annoying Natasha. 

The redhead rolled her eyes, still tugging you along as you tried valiantly to keep up (it was proving to be a struggle, still slightly winded from your panic sprinting, and y’know. Avengers). 

“That’s what we’re doing, Barnes. She’s coming with us.” Her soft voice was met with a grunt in response. 

“But she’s-” 

Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.  

Who would’ve thought that the Winter Soldier himself would be so aggravated by your presence? (Your vibrator surely hadn’t.)

“- She’s safer with us than she would be even trying to make her way down a crowded stairwell from the 93rd floor right now, Bucky .” She hissed, throwing a glare behind her at her teammate.

“I don’t think-” Bucky’s voice growled as the three of you turned the corner and-

Maria Hill was jogging up to you, Melissa right behind her.

Neither of them were at a dead sprint. Ugh . 

“Romanoff, Barnes, L/N.” The head of Avengers Tower nodded at the three of you, not quite shouting, but speaking loudly as she approached. 

“There’s a quinjet waiting for us up top to take us out. You two are better on the ground than the air, and we need everyone out of this building-”

That’s when the explosion happened. 

You don’t remember much of the moments that followed. 

Falling on your ass like you were in slow motion, mostly. 

The acrid smell of smoke and dust in the air. Little pieces of shattered glass falling on your face like sparkles. A tense pressure seizing your waist as you careened toward the ground. Then, everything went dark.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. Falling, falling, falling- But you don’t remember hitting the ground.

Still, the feeling in your muscles came back first. 

You were laying in a heap, and they were aching like a motherfucker , most likely from the sheer force of the blast. 

Slowly, you peeled your eyes open, bits of ash sticking to your eyelashes. As you blinked, you tried to take note of your surroundings as best you could. 

The city loomed ahead of you, which wasn’t new. Mr. Stark had a penchant for using lots of windows, and the tower was covered in them, showering the building with gorgeous views of the city it overlooked. 

…What was new was the broken cement, and the view of the city without expensive panes of bulletproof glass to cover it. The large room that surrounded you had suffered a large explosion to its right, leaving the better half of the floor wall and ceiling completely missing. 

Large pieces of rebar were jutting out of the cement, giant shards of glass, tile and ash all sprinkled over the scene. 

Luckily, as you counted the bodies (only four others, not including yourself) they all seemed to be present and decidedly not flung out into the city below.

There was a flicker of relief in your heart. 

Natasha had been holding your wrist during the blast, but the force of it must have knocked her quite a ways away, closer to Hill and Melissa who lay sprawled on the ground on the far side of the room. The Winter Soldier wasn’t far at all though, in fact-

Your breath hitched, as you realised what the pressure over your waist was. A strong arm was strung around your waist, its heft being the only thing keeping it in place, no strength behind his grasp as he limply held you to the floor. As you turned slightly, it fell away without any resistance.

  Fuck. That’s not good. 

You shifted around, turning until you could see his face. 

You didn’t even have the time to be distracted by his handsome mug, or the way his long hair fell delicately over his cheekbones, gorgeous even after a literal explosion. There was a slight trickle of blood dripping from his forehead, and a quick glance to the wall directly behind him showed that-

Oh shit.

A large human sized dent lay deep into the wall.

The Winter-fucking-Soldier had grappled you in the midst of the explosion, holding you close even as he had slammed into the wall behind-

In order to protect you. 

You would’ve huffed out a laugh if your ribs hadn’t felt like rubber.

Yeah. He was still definitely your favorite. 

That was when you noticed the purple hue to his skin. 

You raised a shaky hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling as you brushed the rough stubble there in disbelief. It took you half a second to realize that the light wasn’t emanating from him but reflecting off of his skin. Grunting, you shifted around again in search of the light source, laying flat on your back and pushing yourself up at the elbows.

That’s when you saw her. 

She was tall. 

Goddess tall. 

A light purple glow seemed to swirl around her in waves, gently reverberating and hovering around her like the rings of Saturn. Long, curling blonde tresses fell down her backside, contrasting neatly against her flowing lavender chiton. Her wrists and neck were all delicately decorated in gold jewelry, the light making it all shimmer like an aurora.

A distant part of you realised that you should’ve felt your stomach drop, should have taken the magic as a sign to run, but there was a sort of…calmness to it. The ethereal light wrapped around her as if it were hugging her, waving and shifting with her movements. 

She hovered a few feet away, cool grey eyes looking down at you with an almost…fond expression. 

“Well, hello there.”

When she spoke, you nearly screamed.

It was as if her voice was speaking a million languages at once, in a million different voices. You winced from the sheer volume of it, although you knew she hadn’t yelled. A warmth pooled in your ears, trickling down the sides of your face. 

Blood.

She stepped closer, and instead of backing up the way you wanted, the way you thought you would, your arms darted out as if to shield the bodies surrounding you. 

Bucky was close, sure, but Natasha, Melissa, and Maria were too far away for your measly fingers to do anything aside from possibly get blown to bits. Still, your arms reached out to them. 

Even if it was futile.

The woman’s eyebrows raised slightly at your weak actions, her pink mouth dipping into a slight ‘ o’ before her features settled into a satisfied expression.

“Yes. You’ll do nicely.”

You blinked. What the fu-

In a flash of purple light, your bones felt like they were being ripped out of your body.

.

.

.

Beep. 

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep.

…You felt like shit.

Opening your eyes was a monumental task. 

It felt like each eyelash had been coated in the heaviest steel, sagging down at every attempt. Feeling quickly returned to your bones, and God, that was even worse. 

It felt like someone had run you through a washing machine, forgot about the load, and ran you over and over again through a number of days until your brain had become so scrambled you couldn’t think anymore.

Then again, it wasn’t the worst way you’ve woken up. A 24/7 Marathon of the Lord of the Rings had made you feel similarly a few years ago.

But this shit hurt .

You groaned uncomfortably as you lifted your arm to rub at your eyes, only to pause with the realization that there was a long IV attached to it. 

Huh?

You tried to open your eyes a little wider, for a little longer, blinking out the dots that had formed in your vision. 

“Wh-What the fuck?” Your voice sounded like a woodchipper, the words slipping out as you took in the sight of medical equipment. 

You were in a slightly lumpy bed in a sterile white room, a series of slow beeps echoing steadily around you. There was a small window to your left, the blinds open to a ground view of the city.

From what you could see, it wasn’t on fire. 

Good. That’s good. You let out a sigh of relief. The city isn’t on fire, and I'm alive. This is good.  

You attempted to swivel your head around then, fears momentarily calmed as you caught a glimpse of something red and flowery. 

Two foil balloons floated lazily next to your bed, weighed down by a giant vase of flowers. There were a number of cards scattered around the melamine side table, a diverse array embossed with many messages like Get Well Soon or Feel Better . 

You rubbed your jaw in confusion. 

Every muscle gnawed at you with your movements, your head buzzing with a pain you couldn’t quite place, but there was no way you could sit still while still not knowing what was going on. 

What the hell happened?

Then, by the grace of the universe, as if you’d summoned her, the door creaked open. 

Natasha Romanoff walked in holding a small box of chocolates in one hand as she quickly typed  on her phone with the other. There was a distinct frown on her face, her brows pinching together uncomfortably.

“Natasha?” 

The assassin’s head whipped up to see you, her eyes wide before they crinkled slightly at the corners. She sighed in what sounded like relief, but her shoulders still seemed stiff as she pocketed her phone.

“Well, I’m glad to see a near death experience will help you finally use my name.” She chuckled. 

You smiled at her, but it was shaky. You’d never seen her like this before. The closer you looked, you saw the stiffness of her muscles, like she was poised to bolt. 

There was something in her eyes too, that you couldn’t quite name.

“What…happened? Why am I…?” You let the words hang in the air. 

Natasha slowly stepped closer, setting the small box down at the foot of your bed before sitting herself next to it. 

“You were right.” She began, her eyes focused somewhere on the floor. 

“About the tower and the lights. We don’t know what happened, or why, but a massive explosion took out the lesser half of the 93rd floor. Thanks to your quick thinking, there were no casualties.” She smiled as she looked at you, but it faltered slightly.

“We thought you were about to be one, though, Y/N. It was pretty touch-and-go there for a while.”

Mostly because you kept turning invisible on the operating table.

You choked out a laugh. 

“Wh-what?!” You giggled.

Natasha just looked at you, bewildered. “You…almost died a few times?” She spelled out the words slowly.

You looked at her quizzically, waiting for her to say ‘psych’ . The silence in the room stretched thin, and the smile on your face faded as you realised she wasn’t joking.

What the fuck?  

“Shit, sorry, I think I misheard you.” You mumbled, eyes flicking down to your arms and the smattering of bandages that decorated them. “I don’t know what kinda drugs they’re giving me in here…” You muttered, tugging the IV tube slightly. 

Natasha’s concerned expression seemed to dissipate. “The good ones, I hope. You deserve it.” She crossed her legs together as she looked down. “The explosion had thrown you into the back wall; It knocked you out pretty instantly. When we finally managed to get ourselves together, we brought you to here.” 

“Oh.” You muttered. That didn’t sound…right. You very clearly remembered waking up, your aching muscles wrapped underneath the heft of the Winter Soldier’s flesh arm. 

That was something you hoped you never forgot, in fact.

All of a sudden, something appeared in your vision, your breath hitching. 

It was like you were watching a movie at 50% opacity, a thin layer over your vision. 

You could still see Natasha, sitting at the end of your bed, but you also saw the Winter Soldier.

His blue eyes were shiny, his mouth pinched in an angry frown as he gestured wildly, frantically running his metal hand through his hair, pacing in a circle through a dark hallway. 

“ I had her in my arms, Nat. It should’ve been me.” His voice echoed in your own ears.

You rubbed your eyes frantically, blinking hard against your fingers. 

Jesus, okay, I’m just imagining things, right? Shit, these drugs must be strong.

But even as your eyelashes fluttered open, the image stayed. 

You watched as a hand reached out to Bucky, as if it were yours- But it wasn’t. 

No, that black leather sleeve belonged to the spy currently seated in front of you. The red strands of hair that swished momentarily in your vision as you moved did too.

It was like you were imagining everything from her point of view. 

The image changed again, flickering rapidly before it settled.

You were in a meeting, the Avengers spread out around you. Maria Hill stood at the front of a large circular table, addressing the crowd of heroes. Her voice was strong, steady, but you could see the worried pinch to her eyebrows, the pink puffiness around her eyes.

“ We can’t tell her what happened, not until we know the extent of her powers. We need to assess the damage that…thing caused. Whoever- Whatever, that woman was…” Hill sighed, sadness momentarily crumpling her features. 

“She could easily be controlling Y/N. We need to keep her in the dark on this, for the safety of everyone.” Her face hardened.

“She’s dangerous now. Not just a researcher, but a possible weapon with motives unknown. We keep her calm, but don’t let any information slip. No visitations either. We can’t have any of you falling under the same shit, understand?”

Maria’s face pinched in a way you couldn’t quite read. 

“We treat her as an absolute threat.”

Your entire body went cold. 

They were talking about you. 

The Avengers had had a meeting and thought you were being mind-controlled by a crazy lady .

The Avengers thought you were a fucking threat.

Oh fuck.

None of this was good. None at all. 

…And it was going to be super extra not good if they found out you knew about it, wouldn’t it?

No, no- Maybe this is all a bad dream. Maybe I’m just mildly concussed and having weird hallucinations from all the drugs. 

You pasted a smile on your face, but it turned into more of a grimace. With a rattly breath, you spoke. “Hey, Natasha?”

She looked at you, and the immediate tightening of her shoulders when you spoke only made your heart sink further. 

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Did…” You took a deep breath. “Did anything happen while I was out?” 

Natasha looked at you for a moment. 

Then, her lips stretched, pearly white teeth gleaming even in the hospital room as she grinned.

She grinned like you were at a slumber party, and she had some gossip about the boys in your grade. Not at all like she was hiding the fact that you may or may not be an Avengers level threat with superpowers .

“Oh yeah, lots. Thor dropped in to see us pretty quickly after the explosion and Clint's managed to get him with a whoopee cushion at least three times now.” She spoke with that same air of conspiracy, like you were both on some cute secret, when really, she was hiding everything  from you.

Her expression softened for a moment before she smiled conspiratorially again, The Black Widow giving the Cheshire Cat a run for its money.

“They’ve all been in to see you, y’know. Check on you, leave some flowers.” She leaned in to poke your hand playfully. “I think you even have something from-”

Her words cut off, the world turning white as her pale skin touched yours. 

The contact was nearly unbearable, your ribs seizing as your head instantly began performing a drumline routine. Thump Thump Thump Thump .

You were in a dance studio. 

Everything felt like a Van Gogh, the entire scene in cool tones. You couldn’t see Natasha anywhere, although you felt the pressure of her finger on your hand. There was a young girl next to you, dressed in a black leotard, her pale blond hair stark against it as she poked your hand, mimicking exactly where Natasha had touched you.

All around you were visions of dancing girls, all clad in black. They were the picture of poise and grace. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Unassuming.

But that was before you saw the guns strapped to their thighs. 

“Natasha?” The blond girl spoke, Russian accent thick, gliding over the syllables.

The knives in their hands as they practiced slashing dummies in the most graceful dance you’d ever seen. 

It was eerie. It was horrifying. It was still weirdly beautiful.

You knew instinctively that it was the Red Room. 

Your vision flooded back in with a gasp. 

You were back in the hospital bed, Natasha’s hand inches away from you as if she’d been shocked. Her eyes were full of worry, but you could see her muscles poised to bolt or fight if necessary. One hand neatly rested at her thigh where you knew her glock was strapped. 

“Y/N…? Are you al-” 

“FINE!” You yelped. “I’m fine! Sorry about that. I uh-” 

Fuck. Think, dammit, think! No, you can’t say ‘Hey, you touched me and I’m pretty sure I just saw some pretty personal images of childhood trauma that I now know you have! Isn’t that cool?’

You looked down sheepishly, trying your best to hide your now wet eyes under the guise of embarrassment. 

“I’m just…really tired. I’m sorry. I keep remembering, uh, bits and pieces of it all. The explosion, probably before I fell into that…wall.” The lie tasted bitter on your tongue. 

Your back had never touched that wall. 

James Buchanan Barnes made sure of that.

“Smoke, mostly. Loud noises. Not much else, but it’s…it’s coming to me in waves.” You finished, the words falling clunkily off your tongue. 

Natasha appraised you then, quick eyes scanning your face. But if the human lie detector detected anything, she didn’t show it. 

If anything, she probably didn’t see a reason for you to be lying. After all, she gave no indication that she knew you’d just seen her…mind? 

Is that what we’re calling it? Did I just read her mind?

When her eyes finally met yours, her eyes swam with pity. 

“Alright. I’ll leave you to rest then, okay? We’ve got a couple agents posted outside if you need anything, and the doctor should be in soon.” Her smile was tight as she reached out to touch you again. You flinched uncontrollably, jerking at the prospect of her touch. She saw it, of course she did, her face shuttering momentarily before she drew back her hand. 

“Hang tight, sweetie.” She finished. Her smile was kind. Tight.

Her hand still hovered above her covered weapon.

You tried to match her smile, but your bottom lip shook. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Natasha.”

With the massive weight of fear she had unknowingly deposited onto your chest, she left the room, closing the door with a soft click . 

…And you slowly lost your mind.

.

.

.

The next couple days were hard. 

As it turned out, you did have a mild concussion, as well as a few lacerations needed stitches from all of the glass. However, none of that explained the distant buzzing in your head that had only grown louder, or how Natasha mentioned you’d almost died .  

It was the bone-deep fatigue that hadn’t entirely let up. 

You were exhausted, through and though; even if you didn’t remember your pain entirely, that visceral scream tearing out of you being the closest you got, your body certainly had. 

It was also especially hard to concentrate on the very nice message Captain America had written to you in his card when your brain kept drifting to the fact that they were all lying to you.

You were terrified that the card from Sam Wilson really had a tiny camera in the pop-up bird that flew out, announcing that “ I just caw-ed to wish you a speedy recovery!” as Pocketful of Sunshine played in the background.

No one else had come into your room aside from a quiet doctor and even more silent nurses. None of them ever made eye contact with you, either, only wordlessly checking the machines and instruments. 

Even staying silent, you knew more about them than you ever wanted to.

Their memories flashed before you with every bandage changed, every brush of skin, even through their sterile nitrile gloves. You heard their thoughts, pounding with fear even as they cooly assessed you. 

Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Hill told you, you can’t say anything.

They repeated it like a prayer.

Natasha had provided the only source of information thus far, albeit unknowingly, and despite your mild injuries, you had a feeling that they weren’t going to let you out of there anytime soon. 

You sat awake every night, thinking, staring through the window, at your only connection to the outside world.

Who was that woman? Had they seen her? 

How long will they keep me here? How long before they know I won’t hurt them?

On some level, it made sense that they weren’t telling you anything. But if any of them had been hit with some sort of secret magic, you would’ve at least tried to tell them what had happened.

It was the lying that made you the most scared. 

The most hurt, really. 

The buzzing in your head continued to grow as the days stretched on, no pain medication dulling it. It was as if it reverberated through the hospital, inching closer to your room like your head was a beacon.

Only the thin walls quieted it, but you could feel it lurking outside the door, the window.

A week and a half later, on a routine visit, one of your nurses had opened the door.

You screamed in pain as you felt it, hitting you all at once. 

It sounded like the woman from before; A million voices, all speaking over the others.

 What you were hearing hadn’t been bugs, or a loud fan, or the static hum of electricity in the machines. No, it was-

Voices.

Thoughts.

Memories. 

Minds. 

You’d jolted so hard that she’d slammed the door closed, running off into the hallway in fear. 

(It was only later that you realised she wasn’t the one who had closed it, running away after she first heard you scream. There was no wind, no one else in the hallway who could’ve. 

Except you.)

Mind reading?

Check.

Telekinesis?

Also, apparently, check.

Invisibility?

Strong possibilities, judging by Natasha’s memories.

Long story short, you were fucked…and you maybe, possibly, needed to get out of here before your brain exploded with the sheer pain of being around so many voices. 

So many in pain .

You tried to distract yourself. As the days went by with nothing to do but sit and worry, think, you tried picking up the Get Well Soon cards off the table with only your mind- Who cared if they were bugged? You were bored, and in pain. 

One card in particular had caught your eye.

It was a plain ivory cardstock, the paper smooth and thick beneath your fingertips. A small pen illustration of a cat decorated the front with a small bandage on its paw. The handwriting was neat, and bold, the crisp black capital lettering striking against the page. 

You’re strong. You’ve got this.

J.B.B

You were sure you’d wear a hole in it or something, the edges of it becoming worn as you rubbed shaking fingers over them. You traced the words with your finger, feeling the slight divot, the pressure in the paper, the memory of his gruff timbre echoing through your mind as you did so. There were a number of times you’d wished there was more, but he seemed to be a man of few words. Like he only said what was really important.

You’re strong. You’ve got this.

He was right. 

“He just keeps proving I have good taste over and over again, huh?” You whispered in the dead of night, tracing your fingers over the lines for the millionth time. 

You probably looked crazy. But you were strong. 

And you needed answers.

.

.

.

It was a Sunday night, the sunset marking the end of your second week in that stuffy hospital room. Throughout the days, you’d been able to recognize some of the voices. The doctors and nurses, sure, but conveniently enough, you could hear the thoughts of the agents posted directly outside of your door. 

You’d gotten to know Mario and Shelly more than you cared to over the past two weeks.

Mostly about their ample sex life, and the fact that they were both cheating on each other, but more importantly you knew that they always managed to take a nap at around 10:30, their thoughts finally cutting off as they slipped into what you assumed was a dreamless sleep. 

Luckily, you were smart enough to think before swinging the door open willy-nilly into the faces of two hulking bodyguards. Even while they were sleeping, that would be much too dangerous for your precarious position. 

You could , however, open your first floor window without drawing much attention. 

(Whoever had decided to put you on the first floor was obviously a rookie. It was almost laughable.)

Under the cover of night, decked only in a hospital gown and a plastic personal belongings pouch clutched tightly in your hand (though there wasn’t much in there besides a few stolen rolls of medical tape and the card from J.B.B) , you shimmied your way out of the window and into the cool night. 

…Weirdly easily, in fact. 

You thought that since you were someone seen as ‘incredibly dangerous and possibly being mind controlled by a witch’ , you’d be under higher security than this. 

When the sound of heavy footfalls fell behind you, you figured it was about time.

It should’ve been incredibly easy for the agents chasing you to catch someone who, a few weeks ago, had nearly passed out after sprinting for a few minutes and had since been laid up in the hospital bed. 

However, as you laid pressed into the wall of an alleyway, watching the shadows of unnamed agents run past you, you decided the whole invisible thing wasn’t too bad at all. 

In the heat of the moment, it had happened. One minute you could see your shoeless feet, and the next they had entirely disappeared. It wasn’t like in the movies either, where an invisible character needed to undress entirely to stay hidden. No, it seemed like any objects or materials that you touched went invisible as well, darkening into the brick of the alley. 

You were grateful, at least, that it wouldn’t leave a floating hospital gown in the middle of Manhattan. You distantly wondered if it could be used on other people.

You exhaled heavily as the footfalls receded, your breaths coming out in sharp pants. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered into the cold night air, your first breath of it in weeks. 

“What the fuck. What the fuck. ” It was all you could say, shock truly setting in at the worst possible moment. You scrubbed your hands over your face roughly. The reality of your situation had been creeping up on you, sure, but now it seemed to hit you like a freight train. Silent tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lashes. 

Leaving, escaping, running; It would officially turn you into a fugitive. 

Your job, your apartment, your friends, all gone. No more Mr. Fluffy, no more lunches with Melissa, no helping Thor with the Keurig, no early morning banter with Natasha, no more waiting with bated breath for the rare glimpse of the Winter Soldier when he had a question for Betsy. 

All of it,

Gone.

The tears began to stream down your face, slowly before speeding up, hot and heavy as the pressure built behind your sinuses. You clutched your hand to your mouth, trying to quiet the heaving sobs that wracked your body.

You couldn’t do this right now. You couldn’t think about this right now.

What would happen if I just stayed? What if they realise I’m not dangerous, I just need control. What if they let me work from the hospital room? 

You tried to reason with yourself, but every suggestion sounded as ludicrous as the next.

But what if they never trust me again? What if the Avengers can never find answers? Would I just spend the rest of my years in captivity, being lied to? Would they kill me if they thought they needed to? I’ve already tried to run once, now- They won’t give me another opportunity.

The thoughts felt like sandpaper on your insides. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Later. Later , you can freak out later.” You whispered, furiously wiping at your eyes. 

You looked around the alleyway, taking in your surroundings. Someone had left a broken mirror by the dumpster, the shattered lines making your face seem to split in several disjointed pieces.

“You gotta go. You have to. Just get through tonight. Come on, you’ve got this , remember?” Your words were shaky as you whispered, wiping your eyes as you looked at yourself.

Everything was a mess. 

Your hospital gown was streaked with the dirt of the alleyway, drenched in sweat, and your eyes rimmed with redness. The tear stains were visible even in the dark of night. 

You wiped off snot with your forearm, feeling every bit of a scared five year old whose mom just left for the night. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” You whispered, trying, trying, trying to breathe.

Pain bloomed behind your forehead, slowly reverberating as you stood. 

“AH!” You gasped, clutching your skull. It was pounding . The buzz had started again, growing stronger now. It had dissipated momentarily in your run, probably some mix of adrenaline distracting you. 

You looked up in a haze. Glowing lights in windows, people still awake even at the dark hour. “Fuck… City that never sleeps, huh?” 

You hugged your miniscule bag of personal belongings close to you, taking a deep breath as the plastic crinkled beneath your fingers. The voices were becoming hurried, frantic. A fight brewing upstairs. 

In the distance, you could hear police sirens.

“Okay, Y/N. Now we really gotta get out of here.” You mumbled, inhaling as you steeled yourself.

You tried to remember the feeling of blending into the background. You remembered the chameleon at the Bronx Zoo, a part of the work bonding trip you’d taken with the rest of your team. You’d admired how easily it could fade into the background. 

You took in the brick behind you, the cracked concrete at your feet.

“C’mon. C’mon.” You whispered.

Slowly, your toes disappeared. 

Your legs, torso, head. It was like it melted away into nothing, disappearing without a trace.

“You’re strong. You’ve got this.” You repeated it like a mantra, like a prayer , the same way the Doctor and Nurses had in their fear of you.

You didn’t know why those words had stuck with you so much. 

Why his words had stuck with you so much. 

If Melissa were here, she’d tell you it’s because you were in love with the guy. You would’ve sputtered, heat rising to your cheeks as you stumbled over your words. “ I’m not in love with him. I just think he’s one of the best heroes out there! He-He’s strong-”

Melissa would snort. “ Hulk is strong.”

“-And he’s kind -”

Melissa would’ve rolled her eyes so far back into her head that she could’ve seen her brain. “ Falcon is kind. Thor is kind. They’re the Avengers , they’re all nice .”

“He’s been through so much!” You would’ve gasped. “He’s from a completely different time, Mel! Even then, he gets up every single day and fights for a world that he’s only known for a few years now.”  

She would’ve raised an unamused eyebrow.

“ Captain America-”

You’d groan in response. The two of you would’ve gone on and on, you never really admitting your feelings, but always sort of admitting them anyway. 

The worst kept secret you had was your love admiration for Bucky Barnes.

You physically shook your head, looking out at the flickering streetlights. 

“Not the time, Y/N. Think. Prioritize. Adapt. Overcome, or whatever the hell else Bear Grylls does.” 

In the back of your pounding mind, you realised that the renowned survivalist had probably never been on the run from the Avengers. Still, the thought of your coworker (Your friend, one of the only ones you really had) lingered, sadness seeping through your body like it was capillary action.

Fuck. Okay, think, think. What do you need most right now? The first thing a fugitive-slash-invisible woman in a hospital gown might need?

Your head whipped back and forth as you began to stumble down the streets, sticking to crowded areas in case you lost a hold of your power. After all, It was much harder to find someone in the thick mob of Times Square Tourists than it was to find them on an empty street.

A disguise. Clothes. 

Your brain supplied as you ran through the night, your knees aching with the exertion. Going from bedridden to jogging through Manhattan was also not ideal for your body, you noted.

On 42nd Street, you finally saw it. 

That bright red neon target would hold everything you need. 

You managed to skirt inside the doors right before it closed, hiding in the camping section as the fluorescent ceiling lights turned off one at a time with a Chmm. Chmm. Chmm.

At least it’s fairly easy to break into stores when you’re invisible.

You didn’t waste any time in grabbing a forgotten shopping cart, trying to remember that what you were doing was a crime, you were on the run, and no, you can’t grab that adorable chenille blanket. 

Ooh, two for one on cereal? 

(Even as a fugitive, you managed to find more than you bargained for in Target.)

First step was realistically underwear. 

The first sports bra that fit, and two more just like it. A simple cream t-shirt and thick jeans- That was a hard one. The entire time you searched for those you’d been terrified that Natasha was going to find you and tase you where you stood, jeans halfway up the thigh, your escape over before it began, only because Target sucked at sizing.

Thick socks and a pair of outdoor work boots. A dark green cargo jacket covered in pockets was hastily added to your collection, along with a bright orange multitool, flashlight and a large navy hoodie. 

You yanked the biggest backpack you could off the shelves, stuffing extra clothes, non-perishable foods, toiletries and a small weather radio inside. A phone would be too risky, to easy to track, so you bypassed the technology section completely, beelining to an empty checkout.

You frowned as you ran up to it. The cash boxes from each register were gone, probably locked away in a safe somewhere. 

“Shit.” You muttered, toying with the string of the hoodie anxiously.

You knew you were going to need money if you were going to get any farther, as the newfound invisibility would become harder and harder to rely on as exhaustion melted through your bones.

Still, you just sighed, quickly finding an employee entrance and not even caring that the alarm sounded. 

…Well, you cared a little; After all, your coworkers were good at their job. 

An escaped fugitive with only a hospital gown to her name and a one-woman robbery from a department store a block away all in the span of an hour? 

Yeah, those were probably connected.

You walked as inconspicuously as you could down 8th avenue. Running would only bring more attention, even though you needed the speed. Your thoughts raced a mile a minute as you power walked, every hit of your new shoes on the pavement unsteady and uncomfortable.

Just need to get to the Train Hall, nice and easy. Find a train, any damn train. Maybe the invisibility will hold long enough to-

Suddenly, you hit something hard, blonde and…incredibly fluffy? 

“Oof!” You stumbled back, the wind leaving you as you tried to regain your footing. There was a hard flash of white light, but the touch was so fast that no memories came, your vision adjusting back in seconds. 

You steadied yourself, blinking a few times only to find a small, angry woman in a fur coat twice her size standing in front of you. A relieved smile crossed your face.

Shit, at least it’s not one of them.

The relief you felt was short lived, however, when the woman’s face twisted up, her apple cheeks turning bright red in anger. Her bright blue eyeshadow crinkled as her eyes narrowed, her magenta lips puckering in annoyance.

Then, without any warning, she began to scream.

“How DARE you! DO you KNOW who I AM?!” She wailed at the top of her lungs. Your eyes widened. 

Oh god. Oh shit. Oh no.

The woman went on and on, spitting half her words. You could barely understand any of it, not even considering what felt like the Hulk beating on the inside of your skull. 

Her mind, oddly enough, was blissfully empty. Wasn’t a lot going on up there. 

She seemed to have a few worries about the diamond necklace she’d bought earlier at Tiffany’s , still in its teal bag. Thoughts about the solid gold money clip her ex-husband had given her as an apology for his affair. The knowledge that she was about to buy the nearby restaurant’s most expensive bottle of wine and flirt mercilessly with the young, attractive waiter. 

(She knew he only gave her attention for the money. She didn’t seem to care all that much.)

The thoughts pummelled you, mixing with the crowds that had begun to form, and you watched in a daze as she huffed and turned her back to you, seemingly done with her tirade. Your glassy eyes blinked, and you spotted a phone camera or two propped up in your direction.

Great. That’s just what every fugitive needs, to go viral online.

You quickly scurried away from the prying eyes and into a nearby alcove. 

Have we truly lost all decorum as a society? You stuffed your bag behind the restaurant’s dumpster. 

I mean really, when did it become acceptable to just film people without their consent? You easily pushed the back door open, entering the bustling restaurant. 

It was hard, what with your mind thrumming with the thoughts of what felt like a thousand people. You tried to muscle through it, promising the outcome would be worth it; If you didn’t pass out first. 

Besides, when is it ever socially acceptable to scream at a stranger in the middle of the sidewalk? You walked past the woman’s table, her bleach blonde highlights stark even in the dim lighting. 

Quick, barely there fingers brushed her bags, instantly melding into the background as they made contact with your hand. Looping them around your wrists, you shuffled away through the closest exit. Your headache was getting worse by the second, and a wiser version of you wouldn’t have done that.

However, after placing the teal Tiffany’s bag carefully into your pack, along with a solid gold money clip of $100s and a wonderful little lipstick you couldn’t help but snatch, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

Still, your steps hastened double time out of the alleyway and back into the street.

If your team was doing their job and the Avengers really were on the hunt for you, they’d be scanning the entire internet. 

You were paranoid, clutching your back so tightly your knuckles ached as you entered the station in a whirlwind. Avoiding the touch of straggling strangers rushing around wasn’t too difficult, but you still stuck to the edges of the halls as much as you could, your mind whirring with a million possibilities as you made your way to a fairly empty ticketing stand.

A brusque woman loudly chewed her gum behind the desk, nails clack-clack-clacking at her keyboard. She eyed you with mild disinterest over the top of her computer screen. 

“What can I do for you?” She asked, her accent thick with the Bronx.

I’ll miss that. 

When Natasha greeted you and she hadn’t had any caffeine, her “ What’s this?” turning into “Vhat’s zhis?” when you hand her a hot black tea. 

How when Melissa and Maria talked to each other, it sounded like two pieces of Chicago echoing off of each other. 

That day you heard Captain America talking to the Winter Soldier in the hallway, sounding like the embodiment of Brooklyn. “Did you get cawfhee yet?”  

Coffee had never sounded so good.

For the billionth time tonight, you felt your eyes dampen with unshed tears, recounting every little thing you had to abandon because something you couldn’t have even attempted to control.

“Um…What train is leaving the soonest?” Your voice came out a little wet, a little croaky. 

A vision laid over your eyes of a nice comfortable bed, a glass of wine in one hand and a warm, hard chest next to you as she looked you up and down. 

She obviously wanted to get off work, daydreaming. A runaway, hmm…Hope she’s alright. No bruises or nothing…

You tried to smile, but It came out shaky and fragile. Still, her ounce of concern felt like more kindness than you’ve been given . 

“The next train departs in 15 minutes, New York to Colorado Springs. You sure that’s where you wanna go, baby?” Her face seemed to relax a little, eyes softening.

You nodded your head quickly. 

“...Yes ma’am.” You said quickly, hand dipping into your backpack. You pulled out a crisp $100 bill. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word, simply printing out a ticket with brisk efficiency.

You tried to smile again, but it wobbled. “Keep the change.” You said, scurrying across the tile to your platform in long strides before she could say another word. 

My good deed for the day, I guess. A real Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the underpaid Amtrak employees.

You found the most empty cabin, ignoring whatever seat had been assigned to you. 

Luckily, a cross-country train leaving at midnight wasn’t the most popular ride in town. The observatory car was blissfully open and empty, the deep static haze over your mind lifting a bit. 

It still felt like you could hear it; The city, alive and awake with thoughts, feelings, emotions, memories. But it was quieter. Subdued. 

Like the train car with its wide, beautiful windows had muffled it. Like peeking out beneath the sleeve of someone giving you a tight hug, the thump-thud-thump of your heartbeat in your ears.

You held your bag close to your chest, the ticket placed neatly in the front pocket. The platform was empty. That’s good. That’s good, right? That means they haven’t found me. I don’t want them to find me.

But god, maybe if I could just explain. Melissa would listen, wouldn’t she? One researcher up against the entirety of the Avengers…

Your eyes glazed over as the train rumbled beneath you, finally beginning its exit from the station. Tears began to trickle slowly from your lashes but your face stayed expressionless, numb, head leaning against the cool metal of the window frame.

Through the blur of your tears, a single blurry shape rushed across your vision on the far side of the platform through the glass pane. You blinked, watching a broad chest rising and falling like he was out of breath. Your eyes were blurry with tears, only making out the shape of a red shirt and a dark cap, his hair tickling the back of his neck with the length.

Poor guy. Prolly missed his train. 

A voice entered, unbidden as always, into your mind.

Where is she? God, I knew this was a bad idea. I need to find-

Grrrrrrk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunkclunkclunkclunk.

The wheels on the train began to turn with a metal screech, and within seconds, the man’s mind was lost in a sea of memories.

The lights of the city, the life you’d worked so hard to build, fell away behind you. 

It went by in a blur of neon, colorful billboards and warm street lights, brownstones and dark trees. Eventually the skyline broke, and straight down the middle of your vision, stood one of your favorite places in the world.

Avengers tower was lit up like a beacon of hope in the middle of midtown. 

The glowing architecture curved like it was climbing to touch the sky, its many windows shining back at you even in the night, bouncing reflections of the city that surrounded it. 

It stood there, towering over you, strong and silent as the closer objects in your vision moved like a blur. 

You could’ve sworn you saw the shape of someone flying overhead. 

You hiccuped, the sound catching you by surprise. Not long after, a sob ripped out of your throat, unbidden.

You let yourself go.

You crumpled like a paper ball, your body turning inward, and you cried as your home faded into the distance.