Chapter Text
Well, i hope i was your favorite crime
You used me as an alibi
I crossed my heart as you crossed the line
Favorite Crime — Olivia Rodrigo
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
ATHENA DIDN'T knock. She didn't hesitate. She didn't think.
The rage was a live wire under her skin as she stormed through the halls of the compound, her footsteps sharp and unrelenting. She had told Bucky, Bruce and Tony she was going to the bathroom.
All she knew was that if she let this sit, if she gave herself time to overthink, she would lose her nerve.
The door to Dr. Beaumont's office loomed at the end of the hall. Too familiar now. Too sharp.
She shoved the door open to Dr. Beaumont's office, the force of it slamming the wood against the wall, rattling the frame. Her heartbeat was a war drum in her ears, her breaths ragged, her pulse vibrating with rage and betrayal.
Dr. Beaumont looked up from her desk, startled. For the first time, the calm, the clinical mask faltered. Not fully — but enough.
"Athena—"
"Don't," Athena cut her off, the word sharp and cracking in the quiet room. She slammed the door shut behind her, shoulders squared like she could physically hold back the tidal wave of emotion surging inside of her. "I know who you are."
Dr. Beaumont's mouth parted, but no defense came.
"Belladonna," Athena spat the name like acid on her tongue. "You helped train me. You braided my hair. You told me I was yours, just like Aleah."
Dr. Beaumont slowly set her pen down, her fingers trembling just slightly as she folded her hands together, as if to contain the earthquake beneath her skin.
"Athena," she said carefully, like she was stepping through a minefield. "It's not—"
"You were there," Athena surged forward, voice splintering, barely holding back the storm. "You—you shaped me. You made me into what I am. You let them break me, over and over again, and you never stopped them."
Dr. Beaumont's throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Her face was caught between practiced neutrality and something deeply, painfully human. "I didn't want to–"
"Don't you dare say you didn't want to," Athena growled, slamming her palms flat on the desk between them, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. "You built me to kill for you. For Aleah. For our older brother Carson."
"I built you to survive," Dr. Beaumont whispered, the words slipping out like they'd been trapped for years.
Athena's breath caught. The room tightened around her, the shadows in the corners trembled, pulsing with the edge of Athena's spiraling control.
"You told me I belonged to you."
"You do."
The answer slipped out too quickly. Too raw.
Dr. Beaumont flinched, as if realizing what she'd just admitted.
Athena's vision blurred, fury and betrayal burning through her veins. "You can't have it both ways. You can't sit there and pretend to help me while you hold the strings."
Beaumont's voice cracked ,"I've been trying to cut them."
Athena froze.
Dr. Beaumont's fingers gripped the edge of her desk, knuckles white. "Do you think I don't see what they did to you? What I— what I let them do? I was Belladonna. I was theirs. And when I looked at you, when I held you after they dragged you out of those recalibrations, I believed it was the right thing. I believed in their mission. But you—" her breath hitched, her composure fracturing in real time. "You ruined me."
Athena's heartbeat faltered, her mind screaming at her to not listen, to not care — but the ache in Dr. Beaumont's voice clawed its way into her ribs.
"I wasn't supposed to love you." Dr. Beaumont's voice trembled now, like she couldn't stop it. "You were just a project. Just another soldier. But you looked at me like I was... safe. Like I was home, and I didn't know how to stop it."
Athena's throat tightened. She didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry or throw the desk across the room.
"You're a liar."
"I was," Dr. Beaumont whispered. "But I'm not lying now."
Athena's fingers twitched against the wood. "You sat across from me. You watched me bleed in here. You watched me tear myself apart, and you never said a word."
"Because I thought... if I could help you heal like this — if I could fix you without you knowing — it would be enough." A tear slipped down Dr. Beaumont's cheek, but she didn't move to wipe it away. "I wanted to undo what I did. I wanted you to have a life where I wasn't the one holding the blade over your throat."
The weight of it all crushed Athena's lungs, suffocating her.
"You should've told me."
"I couldn't." Dr. Beaumont's voice was raw now. "I knew the moment I did, you'd never come back."
Athena's hands shook, her pulse roaring in her ears. "I don't know if I ever should've come in the first place."
Dr. Beaumont finally met her gaze fully — no walls, no HYDRA conditioning, just the full, unbearable ache of a woman who tried too late to choose the right side.
"You still did."
The silence stretched between them like a live wire.
Athena's chest heaved as she pushed off the desk and staggered back a step. "I'm not yours."
Dr. Beaumont's shoulders sank. "No. Not anymore."
Athena turned, her hands trembling, her mind fracturing under the weight of the spiraling memories and unbearable truths.
She stopped at the door, her voice steel-edged when she said, "this is over."
Dr. Beaumont's voice followed her, soft and cracking. "I hope it's not."
Athena didn't look back.
She walked out and slammed the door behind her. But her heart didn't feel any lighter.
Athena stormed down the hallway, her breath shallow, her vision tunneling. The weight of Dr. Beaumont's words clung to her skin like tar — suffocating, cloying, inescapable.
She'd meant to walk it off. To disappear into the labyrinth of the compound's halls until the walls inside her head quieted. Until the noise stopped. But even as her boots pounded against the floor, the storm inside raged louder, spiraling, choking her from the inside out.
She needed space.
She needed distance.
She turned the corner and slammed straight into Bucky's chest.
His hands immediately gripped her shoulders, firm and unrelenting, refusing to let her pass. "You lied."
Athena's jaw clenched, her muscles taut and ready to bolt. "Move."
"I'm not going anywhere." Bucky's voice was low, steady — but there was something sharp buried beneath it. "You said you were going to the bathroom."
Athena's heart dropped.
He knew.
She made another move to shove past him, but Wanda was suddenly there, blocking the other side of the hallway like she'd always known exactly where Athena would try to escape.
Her arms were crossed, but her gaze was piercing, almost... hurt.
"You went to see her, didn't you?" Wanda's voice was soft, but the weight of it sank into Athena's ribs like a lead weight. "You confronted Dr. Beaumont. Bucky told me when he realized you lied about going to the bathroom."
Athena's lips pressed into a thin line. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters." Bucky's grip tightened just a fraction, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor her there. "What did she say?"
Athena's throat constricted. The words clawed to get out, but her walls slammed higher, thicker, suffocating even herself. She couldn't tell them. She couldn't drag them into this mess.
"Drop it." She shoved Bucky's hands off and took a hard step back, but he stayed planted in her path, unmovable. "It's not your problem."
"You're our problem," Wanda shot back, stepping closer, her expression hardening in the way it always did when she was this close to reading Athena's mind. She didn't — not yet — but the threat lingered between them. "We told you — you don't have to go through this alone."
"You're not listening." Athena's voice cracked, too thin, too frayed. "I can't drag you into this."
"You're already dragging us into it," Bucky said, his voice rising, frustration bleeding into his words. "You came back covered in Aleah's blood. You've shut us out. And now you're chasing ghosts by yourself? No. Not happening."
Wanda's brow furrowed, her voice softening like she was trying to soothe a cornered animal. "Athena. Whatever Dr. Beaumont told you — whatever you're remembering — we can handle it. But you have to let us."
Athena's fists curled at her sides. She wanted to scream, to shove them both away, to vanish into the shadows where none of this could touch her. But Bucky's eyes wouldn't let her run. Wanda's voice wouldn't let her fall.
"I trusted her," Athena said, barely above a whisper, like the words scorched her throat on the way out. "I trusted her and she was Belladonna. She was — she was there. She trained me. She knew me before I even knew myself."
Wanda's breath hitched.
Bucky's expression twisted into something between horror and heartbreak. "She was one of your handlers."
Athena shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "She wasn't just a handler. She — she said I ruined her. She said she wasn't supposed to love me but she did anyway. Like that's supposed to mean something now."
Wanda's hands trembled at her sides before she slowly reached out, her voice thick. "But it does mean something."
Athena's walls slammed up higher, panic tightening her ribs. "No, it doesn't. It can't. She broke me. She let them break me. You don't get to call that love."
"She's twisted. She's part of this," Bucky said, stepping closer, his voice cutting through Athena's spiral like a tether. "You don't owe her anything."
Athena's breathing fractured. "Then why does it still feel like I do?"
Wanda's hands gently cupped Athena's face, forcing her to meet her gaze, her thumb brushing against her cheek, grounding her. "Because you're not the weapon they made you to be. You're not numb. You're not cold."
Athena's throat burned, her entire body trembling under the weight of it all. "She said I'd always be hers. That I'd always belong to her."
"You don't," Bucky said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. "You belong to yourself."
Athena's gaze flickered to Wanda, who leaned her forehead against hers, her voice soft but unshakable. "You belong with us."
Athena squeezed her eyes shut, her walls fracturing, her armor splintering in places she didn't know it could break.
"I don't know how to come back from this."
"Then we'll figure it out together," Wanda whispered. "But you don't get to shut us out. Not after everything."
Athena sagged under their touch, her resolve crumbling as the weight of it all pressed down on her shoulders.
"We've got you," Bucky said, his hand gently resting on her back. "You're not alone in this. Not now. Not ever."
For the first time since the forest, since Aleah's blood dried on her skin, Athena let herself believe it.
Just a little.
Just enough to breathe.
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
THE COMPOUND's tension crackled like a live wire. Athena sat stiffly on the edge of a table in the briefing room, her fingers tangled together so tightly her knuckles ached. Wanda sat beside her, quiet, her leg brushing Athena's, a silent promise that she wasn't going anywhere. Bucky paced the far end of the room, his jaw clenched, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
The others filtered in quietly — Tony, Bruce, Sam, Natasha — each of them pretending like they weren't all watching Athena, waiting to see if she would shatter again.
She felt it.
She hated it.
But this time, it wasn't just about her.
The soft click of boots echoed through the hall before Nick Fury stepped into the room, Maria Hill just behind him. Fury's expression was unreadable, but Maria's eyes briefly flicked to Athena before settling into a colder, professional mask.
"Dr. Beaumont is in holding," Fury said, voice sharp, clipped. "Effective immediately, she's being transported to a secure S.H.I.E.L.D. site for interrogation and containment."
Athena's heart plummeted. Containment.
They weren't going to give her a chance to explain herself. She wasn't going to be questioned. She was being removed.
Fury's gaze sliced across the room. "She's dangerous. And after Berlin—" his eyes cut sharply to Athena, "—I'm not taking any more risks."
Athena wanted to argue. To say something, anything — but the words stuck in her throat, lodged behind the weight of her spiraling mind.
"You can't do this." Wanda's voice was steady, but her hand found Athena's, lacing their fingers tightly. "She's the key to all of this. She's the one who knows what they did to Athena."
"She's also the one who helped them do it," Fury shot back, his patience razor-thin. "And I'm not about to let sentimentality screw us over."
Athena's breathing faltered, her pulse roaring in her ears.
It wasn't about Beaumont anymore — it was about Belladonna.
It was about the woman who had shaped her, broken her, tethered her to HYDRA, and still — still — had looked at her like she was something precious.
Wanda's grip tightened, trying to pull her back from the cliff.
Fury turned, motioning for the guards outside. "Get her."
The door to the far hall opened, and Athena's heart clenched as Dr. Beaumont — Belladonna — was led in, her hands cuffed in front of her, flanked by two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
Her face was neutral, carefully composed, but when her eyes met Athena's — there it was. That soft fracture. That quiet, aching guilt.
"Athena—" Beaumont's voice cracked slightly, just once. "I'm—" Her jaw trembled as she forced the words out, low, hoarse. "I'm sorry."
It landed like a dagger straight into Athena's chest.
Sorry.
Sorry for the years of manipulation.
Sorry for standing by while HYDRA tore her apart.
Sorry for training her to be a weapon.
Sorry for loving her in a way she never should have.
The world tipped sideways.
Dr. Beaumont was dragged away, the click of her boots fading with every step, but her apology lingered — sharp, raw, corrosive.
Athena's breath turned shallow. The walls in her head screamed, spiraling memories flashing too quickly — Beaumont's voice layered over Belladonna's — her hands adjusting Athena's grip on a blade, soothing her after a mission, whispering that she was proud of her, that she was hers.
Wanda's voice cut through the haze, but Athena couldn't hear the words.
Bucky stepped in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders, grounding her. "Hey. Hey. Athena, breathe."
She couldn't.
"She's lying," Bucky said firmly, his voice slicing through the roar in her head. "You don't owe her anything."
"She said she was sorry," Athena rasped, her vision blurring. "She— she meant it."
"She trained you to think that means something."
Athena staggered back, ripping herself out of Bucky's hold as panic surged in her chest. "I don't— I don't know what's real anymore."
"It's real." Wanda's hands cradled Athena's face, pulling her focus back. "We're real. What you have now — us — that's real. She isn't."
Athena's breathing was jagged, broken, but she clung to Wanda's voice, to the fierce heat in Bucky's gaze as he refused to let her fall apart.
"She'll tell them everything she knows," Bucky promised, his voice a steady anchor. "But she's not your family. She never was."
Athena's vision stung as her voice cracked. "But it felt like she was."
Wanda's thumb brushed away a tear that slipped free. "You can grieve that. But you don't have to let it define you."
Athena's walls trembled. She wanted to disappear into them — to be nothing, to feel nothing — but Bucky and Wanda wouldn't let her.
They were holding her steady.
They weren't going to let her spiral alone.
Not this time.
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —