The Viper

by lolololololololo23453

Summary:

Serena Pierce, is the daughter of the Secretary of the World Security Council, and the Director of the CIA. After a freakish accident, Serena abandons her dreams of going to Julliard to pursue a career of espionage in the CIA. Her parents agree, but on one condition, that when she was ready, she would move to SHIELD, to follow in her father's footsteps. As she continued to train in the CIA, she earned the name, The Viper, due to her ruthlessness and agility against her opponents. Upon joining SHIELD's coveted STRIKE Team, she meets the Avenger's Captain...and chaos unfolds. Will she be able to save both of them from a governmental and political disaster, or will she be the one to destroy them from within?
Eventual StevexOC
Rated T for language and suggestive themes.
Story starts from CA:TWS and goes all the way through the MCU, with some flashbacks here and there.

Chapter 1: Prologue and Chapter 1

Prologue 

December 31^st, 1994

Location: Bogotá, Columbia

Serena sighed as she walked through the long halls of her parent’s new home in Columbia. Within the last few months, her family had moved to Columbia, as her father, Alexander, being a well-respected, and highly trusted official in the United States Government, was assigned to monitor some terrorist and rebellious civilians who were potentially planning an attack on the U.S. Embassy. Given that he was the Secretary of Defense, and wanting to monitor from a closer radius, he decided to move his entire family, his wife Felicita and daughter Serena to Bogotá.

Serena eventually came across a sitting room and sat down on one of the couches in it. She was bored. She hated it here. All her friends were back home in D.C., but here she was in a foreign country, because her father wanted to keep his family together. Even though she was only five, Serena was able to understand most complicated things. In other words, the girl was brilliant. In times like those, it helped her pass the time her father and mother were in meetings, which was quite often. She taught herself how to do multiplication, read advanced books and novels, and start to teach herself sign language, though she believed that she wasn’t very good at it. All of this was under her parent’s radar, as almost every day, both had at least 5-6 meetings with each being 3-4 hours long. Like Serena’s father, Serena’s mother, was also dealing with the United States Government, however on a more espionage level. Serena’s mother was the current Director of the CIA and was dealing with tracking down the terrorists quietly. However, both worked in unison together, to try and minimize the threat.

Serena glanced out the window and looked at the scenery outside before a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you ready to go Sweetie?” Her father’s voice began.

She immediately turned her head to the door, and saw her father standing in the doorway, with a warm facial expression.

Serena gave him a small nod, before getting off the couch. She willingly grabbed his hand as he escorted her down the hallway, through the living room, and into the car outside, where her mother was already waiting for them.

“Where were you?” Felicita asked, as she placed her right arm around her daughter.

“In the sitting room.” Serena nonchalantly answered.

“You know we have a meeting, Sera, we can’t leave you home alone.” Alexander replied who sat on the other side of her.

“I know.” Serena sighed, as the driver of the car began to drive away.

Watching the locals and houses go by, Serena couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if she were back home. Her family was there. Her friends were there. Her dog was there. Everything was there. Here, there was nothing but violence…at least in her mind. Pulling up to the Embassy, Serena grabbed her father’s hand as the three of them walked inside. Serena was immediately escorted to her father’s office…her usual hang-out spot when both of her parents were in meetings. She was given a bodyguard, Max was his name, who usually played games with her while both of her parents were gone. This day however, Serena felt like doing nothing…she felt tired.

Max, being the kind soul he was, read her a book that her father kept in his office for her, as she laid down on the couch. If she had one friend in Bogotá, it was Max…and only Max. After Max finished reading the story, Serena started to dose off. Eventually, she was awoken by a loud bang coming from outside her father’s office. Max, who was sitting right next to her on the couch, quickly stood up, and pulled out his gun.

He looked to Serena. “You stay right here. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” He instructed.
Serena nodded, as Max drew his gun and opened the door. No sooner he opened the door, a loud bang was heard, and Max dropped to the floor. Blood was spilling out of his forehead, and his eyes and mouth were open in shock.

He was dead.

Serena still sat on the couch, almost frozen in her spot. She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry, she didn’t wail, she just sat there. Frozen in time. Almost like she couldn’t move. Max had just been killed before her very eyes, and she didn’t know how to feel. Within a few moments, strangers came into her father’s office, holding riffles and guns, Serena had only seen briefly in the TV shows and movies her father watched during his spare time.

One of the men went up to her.

“¿Quién es usted? (Who are you?)” The man asked.

Serena tilted her head to the side in confusion before the man pointed his gun at her making her shake in fear.

“¿Quién es usted? (WHO ARE YOU?)” He asked again, this time in a tone that meant I could kill you in two seconds.

“S-Ser-Serena.” Serena shakily replied. Due to the fact she spent almost a year in Columbia, she learned a tiny bit of Spanish.

“¿Quién? (Who?)” The man asked.

“SERENA ALEXANDRA DE FONTAINE PIERCE!” Serena screamed in fear with tears coming down her eyes.

The man smirked before gesturing to his colleagues to grab her. The other two men with him grabbed her by the arms, one on each arm, and practically dragged her out of her father’s office. Serena screamed in pain and agony but was reminded that she could die in a matter of moments as the man who questioned her pushed the gun against the back of her head. She was escorted into a large meeting room, where about 30 other people were there. She was the only child. She looked around the room for her parents, but neither were in sight. The two men pushed Serena to the ground, causing for some of the adults to protest. The man who questioned her just fired his gun at the ceiling, making everyone be quiet, before all three men walked out and locked the door.

Serena crawled into a corner, that was towards the back of the room, pulled her knees to her chest, and cried silently into her legs. She had no one. None of the adults knew who she was, which was surprising, but she wasn’t going to just tell them who she was. She was smarter than that. With all those books she read, she learned how to care for herself if she was ever alone. Hour’s past, and Serena eventually stopped crying, but she never stopped shaking. Sometimes, the terrorists would bring a new hostage into the room. Eventually, Serena started to time how long it took for the terrorists to come in and out. She counted about an hour in between check-ins. Going on hour 7, Serena was mentally and physically prepared for another hostage to come in, when suddenly, she heard loud bangs from outside the door, like the ones she heard when Max was killed in front of her. Petrified to see what was going to occur, she sunk back into the corner, as she felt tears well up into her eyes when the door to the room busted open. In came 6 men with riffles, though they weren’t aiming at the hostages.

“CLEAR!” One of them shouted.

In strolled a man, most likely in his mid-40s who also a riffle on his back and was wearing a leather jacket. Accompanying him was another man in his 30s also carrying a rifle, he was wearing a suit and tie.

“It’s alright everyone, we’re Americans!” The man in the suit began. “We’re friends.”

The hostages began to clear out, but Serena stayed in the corner, petrified with what was going to come next. She didn’t know if she could trust these people. The person she considered her only friend died before her very eyes.

“ALL CLEAR!” One of the soldiers shouted but the man in the leather jacket held a hand up, then pointed two Serena, who did not move from the corner.

“Sir, do you want us to…” The man in the suit began.

“I’ll handle this Coulson.” The man in leather began as he slowly began to walk toward Serena.

Eventually, when he was a few feet away from her, he slowly crouched down to communicate with her.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit here?” He asked calmly.

Serena didn’t move, she just looked at him with wide eyes.

The man nodded before slowly sitting on the ground.

“My name’s Nick, what’s yours?” He asked in the same calm tone.

Serena started to shake and when Nick reached out a hand to comfort the small girl, she flinched.

“It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you.” He explained.

“I’m…Serena.” She said slowly still not knowing if she could trust the man.

He smiled warmly at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Serena. Your Mommy and Daddy are worried about you.”

“Are they like Max?” She asked carefully.

“Who’s Max?” Nick asked cautiously, not wanting to cause the girl to go into a catatonic state.

“Max was my friend…he died in front of me, about…7 hours ago.” She explained.

“How do you know he died 7 hours ago?” Nick questioned.

She shrugged. “I timed it. Every hour, on the hour, the bad people would bring in another hostage.”

Nick smiled at her in amazement. “You’re very smart for your age.”

She smiled. The first real smile she gave all day. “I read a lot. I’m even teaching myself sign language from a book my mom has.”

“Very impressive.” He replied. “Your parents are waiting outside for you; would you like to see them. I promise they are not like Max.”

Serena held out her pinky. “Promise?”

Nick’s pinky wrapped around hers. “I promise.”

Nick helped Serena stand up, before picking her up to carry the small girl out of the building. As Nick began to carry her out, Serena glanced over his soldier to see all the dead bodies behind them.

“Hey Nick?” She asked.

“Yes Serena?” He replied.

“Are you a good guy?” She bluntly asked.

He chuckled. “I am. I saved your parents, and you today, though your Daddy won’t be happy with it.”

“Why?” She asked in confusion.

“Because I went against his orders.” He explained.

Upon approaching the door to the outside. Serena could hear her father shouting. Something he did on rare occasions.

“WHERE THE HELL IS FURY, COULSON? I NEED TO KNOW! IF MY DAUGHTER IS DEAD BECAUSE OF FURY, I WILL…” She heard her father scream.

Just as he was about to finish the sentence, Fury, carrying Serena came out of the building. As soon as Serena laid her eyes on her father and mother, she practically jumped out of Nick’s arms and ran to them. They engulfed her into a big hug.

“Serena, you’re ok.” Her mother began as she stroked her daughters long brown hair. As Felicita looked over her daughter’s facial expression, her once lively green eyes were now flooded with redness from her tears. Unlike her father, Serena inherited her mother’s features, hence why she isn’t a blonde with blue eyes.

“I’m happy you’re both ok.” Serena said with her lip trembling.

“We’re ok, sweetheart.” Alexander began pulling his daughter into another hug. “We’re ok.”

Alexander stood up, picking up Serena with him. With his one free hand, he shook Nick’s hand.

“Thank you, Fury, for rescuing my daughter.” He began.

“We truly can’t thank you enough.” Felicita explained.

“The pleasure is all mine, but you should enroll your daughter in some advanced education…the girl is more talented than you think.” Fury explained making all three Pierce’s look at each other in amazement.

---

Chapter 1

January 14^th, 2007

Location: New York, New York

“Can you watch where you’re going, I can’t see shit!” Val explained as she and her husband, Everett walked into the dark lights of Carnegie Hall.
“It’s not my fault you took so long.” Everett began in annoyance.

“Well excuse me for wanting to look nice for my favorite and only niece’s ballet recital.” Val protested as she walked down the row to see her sister waiting for them.

“About time you both show up!” Felicita said in annoyance. “You made it by, two minutes.”

Everett pointed to Val. “Blame her, she changed her outfit 5 times.”

Val rolled her eyes. “Blame him, he took the long way.”

She then quickly glanced around before turning to her sister.

“Where’s Alex?” She asked.

Felicita shrugged. “On a work call, he said it’ll be short.”

Just as Val was about to reply, the orchestra began to play, and the lights became even dimmer. The curtain opened revealing various people dressed in white. It was Swan Lake.

“What part is she playing again?” Everett began.

“Odette you moron.” Val said with an annoyed sigh before whispering to her sister. “Sometimes, I don’t know how I married that fool.”

“I can hear you!” Everett practically yelled in a whispered tone.

After being shushed by both his wife and sister-in-law, Everett became quiet as Alex practically ran back to his seat.
“Did I miss it yet?” He asked his wife.

She shook her head. “No, but she’s coming on soon. Please don’t make me scold you like I just scolded them.” She gestured to Val and Everett.

“She’s been scolding me since the day I was born.” Val said with an eyeroll.

Just as Alex was about to reply, Serena gracefully entered the stage, dressed in her all-white swan costume, signifying that she was playing Odette.

“Oh, there she is!” Felicita said in excitement as she pulled out her camera.

“This is the deciding factor for Julliard, right?” Everett asked his wife.

“Yes, now shut up!” Val shushed pulling out her own camera to capture the recital.

Serena, being quite the prodigy she was, was an extremely good dancer. So good, that many arts schools came her way over the course of her being in High School. Her dream school, however, was Julliard. All she wanted was to get into Julliard, and then into the American Ballet Theatre. 

Her parents, aunt, and uncle, all marveled at how flawlessly she danced through the night. However, just as everything was going well…it all came crashing down. Just as Serena was finishing her final number, the Grand Finale of Swan Lake where Odette jumps off the cliff, just as she was running up the disguised stairs to jump and signify her entrance and attendance to Julliard, it all came crashing down. Just as she was about to climb the last step, her ballet shoe, which was broken down, slid off her foot, causing her to slide down the stairs. At that moment, the orchestra cut the music, and the entire cast and crew went to help the girl who was screaming in pain.

A million things were going through her mind. The main being, she just blew her chances of getting into Julliard. Within a matter of minutes, Serena was whisked away to the hospital where they informed her that she was going to need an operation on her ankle, and leg, and that because of the way she fell, she would never be able to dance professionally. Serena cried in agony. Everything she worked for, everything she trained so hard for, just went down the drain. Her mother and aunt were sitting in the room with her when the news broke, to try and console the girl.

“It’s their loss.” Val began. “They can kiss your ass. You were the best Odette I’ve ever seen.”

Felicita hugged her daughter, along her to cry into her shoulder. “It’s ok, sweetie. It’ll all be ok.”

“It won’t be!” Serena cried pulling away from her mother. “Everything I trained for, is gone. I’m worthless.”

“You know who’s worthless…Julliard!” Val interrupted getting a glare from both her sister and niece.

“I feel…empty.” Serena explained as she started straight in front of her.

Just then Val’s phone rang, making her groan in annoyance.

“Sorry it’s work.” She explained before picking up the phone and walking out of the room. “This is Agent de Fontaine.”

Her mother, her aunt, and uncle worked for the CIA, with her mother being the director, and the other two being high ranking individuals as well. Just as Val left the room, Serena perked up.

“That’s it.” She whispered.

“That’s what, Honey?” Her mother asked.

“You guys always said, I’m too smart for my age, right?” Serena began.

“Right.” Her mother nodded.

“And that I can do anything if I put my mind to it, right?” She continued.

Her mother nodded again. “Where are you going with this?’

Serena smiled. “I want to join the CIA.”

Felicita’s eyes widened. On one hand she felt honored and pride that her daughter was going to follow in her family’s footsteps and join the CIA, but on another hand all she could remember was Bogotá. Just as she was about to reply, Val walked back into the room.

“Sorry, I’m getting assigned to a new student to mentor. What’d I miss?” She asked as she sat down in the chair and drank from her water bottle.

“I’m joining the CIA.” Serena firmly stated causing Val to spit out her water.

“What?” Val asked in disbelief looking to Felicita.

“I am in just as much shock as you are.” Felicita explained. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Serena asked in confusion.

“Because all I keep thinking about is Bogata. You have a target on your back Serena. With your last name, and mine, you are a walking target.” Felicita explained.

“Unless one of us trains her, so she isn’t a target.” Val interrupted.

“What do you mean?” Felicita and Serena asked at the same time.

Val sighed. “If Everett and I train her, both of our knowledge can pass onto her, and she will be able to succeed as one of their most successful agents. I can make it so that no one could touch her…I could make it so that no one would touch her ever again.”

Felicita sighed before looking back to her daughter.

“Please Mom.” Serena begged.

Felicita sighed, knowing she wouldn’t win this battle before she nodded. “Ok, you can join, on one condition.”

Serena nodded hesitantly.

“You will eventually work for S.H.I.E.L.D.” She explained.

Serena nodded quickly before throwing her arms around her mother.

“I love you, Mom.” She explained.

“I love you too.” Felicita replied.

“And I feel left out.” Val said interrupting the mother-daughter duo. “We start your training after your leg is healed. Be warned, I won’t go easy on you, I’m going to treat you like every other agent.”

“I’m ready.” Serena replied with a small smile.

Val was right. The day she was cleared and officially healed, was the day training began and she was right, her and Everett didn’t go easy on Serena. In fact, they were ten times harder on her than they were with every other agent. Why? Because they knew she could do great things. Within a few months, Serena excelled at every test the duo threw at her, to the point where she graduated early from the CIA Academy and was thrown directly into the field. She became quickly known around the CIA as ‘The Viper’. Why? Well, on her first few field assignments, she tended to draw-in her victims and or associates, before attacking them to get what she wants. Hence why she was called The Viper. Serena was smart. Too smart. Too smart for anything the CIA offered her, which is why at 25, she got offered a position working at S.H.I.E.L.D., making her one of the youngest ever to be offered a position as a Field Agent on the STRIKE and INSIGHT Team. She got offered this position not by her father, who at this point was head of The World Security Council, but by the director of S.H.I.E.L.D himself, Nick Fury.

The man had become almost like an uncle to her since their meeting in Bogotá, and in the blink of an eye, Serena accepted the offer. While she knew leaving behind her mother, aunt, and uncle at the CIA was sad, she remembered the promise she made to her mother upon joining the CIA, that she would eventually join S.H.I.E.L.D. Her father, was rather pleased that she finally came to her senses and joined S.H.I.E.L.D. but all Serena could think about in the back of her mind, was if she was going to fit in being a legacy. All she wanted to do, was make her parents proud. All she wanted, was to do her country proud. All she wanted, was to make herself proud. All she ever wanted, was to be something great, and with her new chances at S.H.I.E.L.D. she hoped that she would be able to do it justice.

Notes:

This story is an AU that strives from Canon slightly. I made the OC, Serena, the daughter of Alexander Pierce and the niece of both Everett Ross and Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, as I thought it would make for some interesting events later on in the book. I will note, that in this story Serena is manipulated quite a bit, which will be shown in a few chapters, but all of that starts to change when she meets Steve.
On another note, as mentioned in CA:TWS when Steve and Alexander Pierce are speaking in his office, he mentions that Fury saved his daughter when the attack in Bogata happened. He implied that his daughter was a full-grown adult when it happened, but I wanted it to be when his daughter was younger, so she will have some form of childhood trauma that affects her when she's older. Hence why I made Serena 5 when the attack happened.
I also took some inspiration from Red Sparrow with the idea of the former ballerina turning to a life of espionage, the only difference is that Serena wasn't forced into it.
I also want to clarify Serena's faceclaim for the MCU, which is Camilla Luddington. If you have watched Grey's Anatomy or True Blood, you will know who she is. Please let me know if you have any questions about Serena or the story in general, and I hope you all enjoy the story!

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Washington D.C.

2014

The loud barking in the background woke Serena up that morning. She groaned in exhaustion before reaching to grab her phone on the nightstand. She sighed glancing at the time. 4:30 am. She carefully got out of bed, walked down the hall of her apartment, and turned the light on in her kitchen to visualize the large Golden Retriever sitting patiently at her dish waiting to be fed.

Serena sighed. “Molly, it’s 4:30, we eat breakfast at 6:30.”

 
The dog didn’t respond but nudged her dish forward. Serena rolled her eyes, as she grabbed the dish to fill it with food. As soon as she placed it down, the dog started to eat, thus signaling for Serena to go get changed for her morning run. She quickly brushed her teeth and hair, allowing for her to pull it back into a ponytail. She pulled a plain grey sweatshirt and a pair of black leggings out of her closet, along with a black sports bra as well. Once she was dressed, she put on her running sneakers and an old CIA baseball cap that her mother got her when she started in the agency. After, she walked back down her hallway, to see Molly waiting by the door, with her leash, in her mouth and tail wagging in joy, upon seeing Serena. 
Serena smiled as she attached the leash to the dog’s collar and opened the door. “Ok, now we can go.” 

The dog eagerly pulled Serena down the hallway, as the dog loved to run, almost as much as Serena. Serena had gotten Molly at the request of her parents, as they were concerned about her being along all the time. Serena didn’t mind being alone, and instead, loved it. However, that didn’t mean she wasn’t grateful for Molly. Molly was there for Serena’s nightmares from missions and her childhood. Molly was there for all the injuries Serena sustained from CIA missions. And Molly was there as a friend and companion for Serena.
Within a few moments, after crossing a few city blocks, Serena and Molly were at the National Mall, their favorite running spot. Serena enjoyed it because it was repetitive, and not on a crazy incline like other places in D.C., and Molly liked it because there were lots of squirrels for her to bark at…which annoyed Serena to no end.

As they started their run, Serena went at a manageable pace, that allowed for her to keep up with Molly, even though Serna knew in the back of her mind that Molly could 100% outrun her…as she’s seen it on her parent’s property hundreds of times. Serena continued to run, making a turn to pass the Lincoln Memorial to allow for her to head back toward the Washington Monument. Just as she was about to make the turn to head down the long straight, she heard someone come sprinting past her. 

“On your left.” He said briefly before practically sprinting past her. 

Serena stopped in her tracks as she watched the man run faster than she ever could practically make it halfway around the National Mall in the blink of an eye. She shook her head in annoyance, before starting to run again. Her and Molly were making good pace, as the man continued to lap around the two of them 3 times. Just as she was about to make a turn for the Lincoln Memorial once again, which would then allow her to stop her run, as she could tell both were tired, the man passed her again. The only difference? Molly didn’t like it.
As Molly started to bark, she then pulled Serena with all her might, thus causing Serena to accidentally let go of Molly’s leash, allowing for Molly to chase after the crazily fast man. 

“Molly! No!” Serena called as she ran after the Golden Retriever. 

Serena saw the man who passed her stopped in his tracks to allow the dog to catch up to him, before grabbing her leash so that she wouldn’t run any farther. Serena then saw the man jog up to her and she jogged up to him so he wouldn’t have to run that far. 

“I’m so sorry about her, she usually is never like this.” Serena explained as he handed back the dog leash.

 
He smiled and shook his head. “It’s alright.” 

Just as he said those words, Molly was about to take off running again. 

“Sit.” The man ordered. “Stay.”

The dog looked at the man before obeying, before laying down on the ground. 

 

“Now that was impressive.” Serena said in disbelief as she knelt to pet her dog. “Do you have like…commanding abilities?” 

The man tilted his head back and forth. “Kind of.” 

As Serena stood back up that’s when he noticed the gold CIA lettering on her hat. 

“Do you work for the agency?” He asked gesturing to her hat.

She shrugged. “Not anymore. My family still does, I got transferred, something more “top secret”.” She explained making air quotations.

“I’m sorry for asking…” He trailed off not knowing her name. 

“Serena.” She immediately replied holding her hand out. 

“Steve.” He replied with a smile as he shook her hand. 

Serena gestured to the dog laying on the ground. “That’s Molly, who drives me insane sometimes.” 

“She’s a beautiful dog.” Steve said kneeling down to pet the dog.

“Thank you.” Serena explained. “I got her about a year ago. My parent’s hate the fact that I live alone, even though they’re only about a half-hour away, so they got me Molly for Christmas.” 

“Where do they live?” Steve asked as he stood back up. 

“Alexandria.” Serena said with a nod. “Actually, just outside of Alexandria, both my parents work in D.C., so I see them all the time.” 

“That’s always good.” He explained. “To have your parents around when you need them.”

“Or it’s a pain in the ass, all the time.” Serena explained with a small laugh making Steve laugh as well. 

Just as Serena was about to reply, her watch went off, signifying that she needed to get ready to head to SHIELD. 

“Sorry, I’ve got to run, but it was nice meeting you Steve, and thanks for bringing Molly back to me.” Serena explained with a smile.

“It was nice meeting you as well. I’ll see you around?” He asked.

Serena smiled. “Most likely.” 

Serena gently pulled on Molly’s leash, which allowed for the dog to get off the ground and start jogging slightly with Serena as they headed out of the National Mall. What Serena and Molly didn’t notice was that Steve was admiring both in awe, before going back to his morning run. Serena glanced quickly over her shoulder at the blonde-haired man who just helped her catch her dog. 

‘He looks familiar.’ She thought to herself before turning back to her dog as they headed back to their apartment.
Once back at her apartment, Serena quickly took a shower and got dressed, before heading out the door. Today was her first day officially working for S.H.I.E.L.D., so in the back of her mind she knew she couldn’t be late on the first day…how’d that look to every single one of her superiors…especially with the last name she has. About a half hour later, she was driving over the bridge to the Triskelion and into the underground parking structure. Once her car was parked, she grabbed her bag and walked over to the elevator. Within a matter of moments, she was whisked into the Grand Lobby of the Triskelion. She quietly marveled to herself at how extraordinary it was. Sure, she had been here plenty of times before with her father, but never had she thought she’d be working here. She smiled when she noticed who was waiting for her in the lobby. 

“About time you show up.” Maria Hill began with a small smirk.

 
Serena smirked back and rolled her eyes. “Like you have nothing better to do?” 

“Actually, I’m supposed to attend a meeting later today on Project: INSIGHT, but I digress.” Hill explained passing Serena her ID card as they began to walk toward another set of elevators. “Your official S.H.I.E.L.D. ID Card. Your Clearance is Level 7.”

Serena frowned. “Level 7…wait, why?”

 
“Fury insisted.” Hill explained. “He trusts you, which is an honor…coming from him.” 

“The man trusts no one, I know.” Serena replied. “I just don’t get why he put me on 7, aren’t most agents coming in from other organizations placed on Level 1?” 

Hill nodded as they stepped on an elevator. “In most cases yes, but since you are considered to be a Specialist, Fury made some changes, hence why you are Level 7.”

“I’m not a Specialist.” Serena began. 

Hill put a hand up. “You are. Anyone who has a reputation in the field to earn themselves a codename, immediately becomes a candidate for being a Specialist. Since you’re so skilled in the field, with drawing in your targets before striking, earning you the nickname The Viper, Fury changed the system slightly, to allow you to have Clearance at Level 7. He was truly impressed with how well you can manage an entire unit in the field, hence why he wants you on S.T.R.I.K.E.” 

Serena didn’t reply as she glanced out the window behind them that overlooked the Potomac. 

“Get use to the view Pierce, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of it.” Hill replied making Serena sigh in response.

 
Once the elevator doors opened, Hill led Serena through a long corridor before they turned a corner to a doorway that was labeled: Viewing Platform.
Hill pushed open the doors and gestured for Serena to walk onto a viewing platform. Serena cautiously walked onto the platform and looked down below to see a few agents training, with someone instructing them. Serena carefully observed their fighting styles, as she didn’t know if she was to take each of them down (to prove herself) or flaunt her sparing skills against them. She didn’t care either way. 

“There you are.” A familiar voice said to her a little farther down on the platform. 

Serena looked over her right shoulder, to see Fury standing there waiting for her. 

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.” He explained pulling her into a hug.

“I couldn’t pass this up. Hill told me you gave me Clearance Level: 7…don’t you think that’s too much?” Serena asked as she pulled out of the hug.

He shook his head. “You are more than capable of handling what it entails.” 

She gestured to the individuals down below as she leaned on the railing. “Is this what I’m walking into?”

Fury nodded before gesturing her to follow him down the platform. “Essentially. The Special Tactical Reserve for International Key Emergencies or S.T.R.I.K.E. is a group of people that are S.H.I.E.L.D’s brightest and best, and are handpicked by me to be a part of it. You are being assigned to S.T.R.I.K.E as one of their Specialists. You will be working alongside the two leaders of the team as another head, which will then lead to you eventually be commanding smaller S.T.R.I.K.E teams in the future.” 

“I was commanding full assault teams in the CIA by the time I was 20, this seems like a bit of a demotion.” Serena replied crossing her arms as she caught up to Fury. 
“You may see it as a demotion, but I see it as a promotion.” He continued.

“How so?” Serena asked in confusion.

Fury stopped in his tracks. “Because of your Level 7 Clearance.” 

Serena tilted her head in confusion.

“Most of S.T.R.I.K.E.’s members only have Level 6 Clearance, you have Level 7, given your already vast knowledge of the intelligence world.” Fury continued before they both continued to walk down the platform, heading for the staircase. “Your mother, aunt, and uncle put in a good word for you, on how you were able to retrieve information about a German Intelligence leak, while staying under the radar.” 

A small smile appeared on Serena’s face. “It was a textbook assignment, nothing major to it.” 

While the two continued to descend the staircase, the agents below were trying to go unnoticed by who Fury had with him. 

“Who’s that?” Steve asked as he drank from his water bottle.

“Don’t know her name, Cap.” Rumlow began. “The only thing Fury told Rollins and I was that she’s former CIA. Apparently she’s known for drawing her targets in quietly, and then is fast to eliminate or take them down.”

“She sounds…violent.” Steve said with hesitation.

Rumlow nodded. “She is. Evidently, she was commanding entire squads before she switched to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Why?” Steve asked in confusion. 

“No one knows.” Rollins explained as he entered the conversation. “But the one thing the intelligence world knows about her, is that because of her quickness in taking people down, they call her The Viper.” 

“I heard her kill list is quite extensive.” Rumlow explained making Steve frown. “What? C’mon Cap, it’ll be good to have someone like that on our side for a change.” 

“That doesn’t mean, they have good intentions.” Steve began. “If joining S.H.I.E.L.D was just a way to allow for her to get more kills, then she shouldn’t be here.” 

Rumlow was about to reply before he stood up straighter.

“Focus up, here comes Fury.” He whispered to Steve who in response turned around to look over his shoulder, and once he saw who was with Fury, his eyes widened. It was Serena from the National Mall. 

Serena, who was walking with Fury was in shock as well. Mostly at herself because she was stupid enough that she couldn’t put two-and-two together, to realize that the man lapping her this morning was not only a government agent himself but was in fact the Captain America. 

“And here they are.” Fury explained to Serena as they approached the three men. “Agent’s Rumlow and Rollins, and Captain Rogers, I’d like you to meet S.T.R.I.K.E’s newest member, Agent Serena Pierce.” 

Serena gave them a warm smile all while trying to not make eye contact with Steve. “It’s nice to meet all of you.” 

“She will be operating as a unit co-commander with Rogers and Rumlow, given her time commanding squads in the CIA, along with acting as one of the team’s Specialists, alongside Captain Rogers.” Fury explained.

Steve stepped forward forcing Serena to make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to have you on the team.” He said with a small smile as he held out his hand for her to shake.

“Likewise.” Serena said with a small smile grabbing his hand. The two then pulled apart when Fury spoke again.

“She’s Clearance Level: 7, any problems you come into, you report directly to her. Do you understand me?” Fury asked Rollins and Rumlow.

“Yes sir.” They both replied obediently. 

“Good.” Fury said with a nod. “If one of you could be so kind to show her around, I’d appreciate it. I have a meeting with the other Pierce in my life.”

“Tell him I haven’t ruined the place yet!” Serena called out to Fury as he walked out of the room. 

She then turned back to the group. “He means my Father.” She explained with a shrug.

Rollins and Rumlow’s eyes widened. “Your dad is…Ale”

“Alexander Pierce?” Serena finished for them. “Yeah, he is. Which also makes the Director of the CIA my mother, and the Director of Operations my aunt…yeah, it’s kind of a family thing.” 

Before either agent could start to harass the poor girl on why she decided to leave the CIA, Steve stepped in. 

“How about I take you on that tour Fury promised you?” Steve asked.

 
Serena nodded. “Sure, lead the way.”

Steve led the girl out of the training room, and back into one of the hallways. Once they were far enough away from the training room, Serena finally broke the silence.

“I should’ve recognized you this morning.” She blurted out. “I feel stupid for not recognizing you.” 

“No, it’s ok.” Steve began. “It’s nice to finally have met someone who doesn’t just see me as him.” 

“No, I literally saw you this morning as the man who grabbed my dog.” Serena said with a laugh making Steve laugh too. “I’m sorry again about her, she’s usually so well-behaved, I don’t know what had gotten into her.” 

“She looked like she wasn’t going to attack me, based on the way she ran up to me.” Steve explained. 

“I agree.” Serena nodded. “But I’ve never seen her act that way with strangers, she’s usually so…shy.” 

“She doesn’t seem shy to me.” Steve said with a slight frown as they turned down another hallway. 

“She’s very friendly, once she warms up to people…” Serena explained trailing off at the end. 

‘Kind of like me.’ Serena thought to herself but was snapped out of her thoughts when Steve opened the door to another room.

“This is the Armory. We’re here before and after every mission. All our gear is here, and…” Steve began. 

“And all your weapons, tricks, and toys are here.” Serena finished as she walked around the room. 

“Exactly.” Steve replied with a nod, watching how Serena eyed every piece of weaponry there was in the room. 

“Can I ask you a question.” Steve began.

“Of course.” Serena replied not taking her eyes off the weapons on the racks above her. 

“Why did you transfer?” Steve asked making Serena stop in her tracks to look Steve right in the eye.

Serena slowly walked over to him and sat down on one of the benches. Steve in response, sat down on the bench across from her. 

“Before I joined the Agency, my mother was very…hesitant to say the least of me joining. She wanted me to go out of joining the government, and see the world, but that didn’t happen. After an accident I had, when I was about 18, I told her that I wanted to join. After her protesting, she allowed me to join on one condition.” Serena explained.

“What condition?” Steve asked. 

“The condition was, that when I was capable enough to handle myself, that I would join S.H.I.E.L.D. That day came a couple of months ago, with a rescue assignment in Santiago, Chile. I commanded my team to extract the Prime Minister of Mexico out without any detection of the rebel forces, and he is currently at home in Mexico City with his wife and three kids. Yes, I earned a name for myself completing all these assignments, but I’m too good at my job to know when I get bored of them, hence why Fury asked me to come and join S.T.R.I.K.E.” She continued.

“You joined because you got bored?” Steve asked in disbelief. 

“I outgrew them.” Serena explained.

“That makes more sense.” He replied. “You don’t just get bored.”

“Do you? Of all of this?” Serena asked gesturing to the room around them. 

Steve sighed. “I can’t get bored. I was made for all of this.”

Serena scoffed. “But you’re still human, and deep down, at some point, every single person gets bored of what they’re doing. It’s human nature…except for Fury. He’s been doing that job since I was a kid.” 

Steve looked at Serena in disbelief as she let out a laugh before standing up and gesturing to the door. Steve immediately followed her out of the room, thinking to himself what this girl would bring to S.T.R.I.K.E, along with the fact that, maybe he could get her to open-up to people more, considering they would be overseeing S.T.R.I.K.E together. In the back of Serena’s mind however, all she could think about, was the idea of disappointing both of her parents. As all Serena wants, is to not be seen as a failure.

Notes:

So this chapter starts a little before CA:TWS, hence why Serena is joining STRIKE. For everyone in my PMs asking, no, Serena is actually not Hydra, but that doesn't mean her dad's not.
Happy Holidays to All!

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Washington, D.C.

2014

3 Months Later

Serena tightened her long black wrap coat around her as she walked into the restaurant. She had been working with S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.T.R.I.K.E for 3 months now and have already made her place firmly known among them. Much to her surprise, they had a great deal of respect towards her…probably because they all knew what she was capable of, but, otherwise, she found it rewarding. In the past 3 months, she found herself training younger and incoming agents, and being shipped around the world to handle assignments with Captain America and S.T.R.I.K.E. giving her much more action and adventure than she had with the CIA. But with all the action…she never had any downtime…until now. 

Tonight, being the first real night off, she decided to grab dinner with her mother and aunt, since her father was away in Berlin on official S.H.I.E.L.D business. To be honest though, Serena was just happy to see her family for the first time in 3 months. As soon as she walked in, she saw her mother waving her down to a table in the back corner of the room. As she walked through the restaurant and got closer to the table, she could see her aunt, rolling her eyes at something, which made Serena frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Serena asked as her mother got up to hug her.

“Nothing’s wrong sweetie.” Felicita replied giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek before she sat back down.

“I’m not asking you, Mom.” Serena explained as she took off her coat to reveal her black turtleneck sweater and pair of dark jeans. “I was asking Aunt Val.” 

Val rolled her eyes again. “You look thin.” 

Serena looked down then looked back at Val as she sat down in her chair. “I do not.”

“She does not.” Felicita groaned before hitting her sister playfully in the shoulder.

Val put her hands up in defense. “I’m just saying that you could gain a couple pounds…what do they not feed you at S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Serena smiled. “They do, very well actually.”

Just as Val was about to reply, the waiter came over and asked for the wine order. Serena quickly grabbed the wine list glanced it over quickly before making her decision. 

“Let’s do a bottle of the Bordeaux, the 2005 Chateau Margaux.” Serena said with a warm smile.

 
The waiter’s eyes widened before nodding quickly, before rushing to the wine cellar.

“You’re balling quite hard with that choice.” Val said with a shake of her head.

“As if you aren’t going to drink any.” Felicita said playfully before turning back to Serena. “Seriously though, how is it?”

“How’s what?” Serena asked as the waiter came back and began to pour glasses of wine for the three women. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D?” Felicita and Val asked simultaneously.

Serena shrugged. “It’s alright. This is the first time I’ve had off on a weekend since working there. Every other weekend I feel like I’m being shipped off to another part of the world. I’m tired all the time, but…I love it. I always get an adrenaline high with it, plus it helps that I’m working with a great group of people.” 

“Fury assigned you to S.T.R.I.K.E, right?” Felicita asked. 

Serena took a sip of her wine before nodding. “Yeah.”

“You’re welcome.” Val said with a smirk.

Felicita glared at her sister.

Val shrugged. “What? Without Everett and I, she probably wouldn’t even be Clearance Level 1. What’s your Clearance Level?” 

“Seven.” Serena said with a sigh.

“See?” Val smirked at her sister.

“I thought Mom had something to do with that.” Serena explained as she looked between her mother and aunt.

Felicita shook her head. “No, that was all Fury. Your father didn’t even know. He was just as surprised as you are.” 

“It’s because of your reputation.” Val explained. “Face it Sera, you have a knack for drawing targets in…quietly, then making your presence known during extraction.” 

Serena sighed before taking another sip of her wine. “I’d like to think it was because I was trained so uniquely.”

Val nodded. “That too. You excelled far more than anyone during your year in the CIA Academy. You are a prodigy.” 

“We established that when she was a child.” Felicita explained. “My point is you deserve your S.H.I.E.L.D Clearance. You earned it. Even if your father wasn’t in the position he is in, you still would’ve earned it.”

Serena smiled and nodded as the waiter came back with their dinner orders. Felicita and Val ordered for Serena, as she was coming from work, and they already knew her order ahead of time. All was going well with dinner until a subject Serena did not want to speak about was brought up.

“So, did you meet The Fourth of July Stripper yet?” Val asked nonchalantly almost causing Serena to choke on her chicken and Felicita to choke on her wine.

“WHAT?” Serena and Felicita half shouted. 

“Rogers?” Val said with a shrug. “America’s golden boy – The Fourth of July Stripper – Captain America.” 

Felicita shook her head in disbelief. “What?” 

“Come on, you and I both know he looks like a glorified stripper. The amount of thirst traps people make of him online…astronomical.” Val explained. “Did you meet him yet? I heard he’s working for S.T.R.I.K.E.”

Serena nodded. “I have.” 

“You met Captain Rogers?” Felicita asked in disbelief.

Serena nodded again. “I actually met him prior to working for S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“How?” Val asked before taking a bite of her steak.

“I was going for a run with Molly around the National Mall, and this guy was lapping me constantly. At one point Molly didn’t like it and took off after him, and he caught her. I didn’t put two-and-two together until I met him at S.H.I.E.L.D later in the day.” Serena explained. 

“And?” Felicita and Val asked.

“And what?” Serena asked as she sipped her wine.

“What’s it like?” They both asked.

Serena shrugged. “As normal as it could be…I guess. I don’t think he liked me very much in the beginning. Probably thought I only joined for murder…but now, we work well together. We both command the team together and so far, we haven’t lost anyone and all of the missions have gone to plan.”

“That’s it?” Val said in disappointment. “That’s all the Boy Scout has to offer?”

“Val.” Felicita began with a sigh and a hand to her forehead.

“What?” Val said with a shrug turning to her sister before turning back to her niece. “The man is a literal walking Boy Scout."

“What did you expect me to say?” Serena said with an eyeroll. “That when I throw kitchen magnets at his shield they stick? That he makes me sing the National Anthem when we train?"

“Yes!” Val said with a smile. 

Serena sighed in annoyance and was just about to take another bite of her chicken when she got a buzz on her phone making her pull it out of her front pocket. No sooner she did, her once hopeful and carefree expression she had earlier in the evening was placed with a frown, as the S.H.I.E.L.D logo appeared on her screen. 

“Fuck.” Serena sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Felicita asked.

Serena immediately turned the screen around to show her mother and aunt. “I have to go.”

“I’m sorry honey.” Felicita said in a somber tone.

“It’s not your fault Mom, it’s Fury’s.” Serena said with a shrug as she pulled her coat on.

“Ask the stripper to let you throw magnets at his shield.” Val said with a laugh as Serena gave them both a hug before leaving the restaurant to head back to the Triskelion. 

Sometime Later

Kazakhstan

“Secure channel 2.” Rumlow began.

“Channel 2 secure.” Serena concluded as she spoke into her earpiece.

Serena quickly grasped onto one of the overhead latches as the Quinjet shook with turbulence from their position in stealth mode. The mission was easy. They were to take out some terrorists that tried to hack S.H.I.E.L.D’s systems to retrieve intel. They failed at hacking into the systems, but in doing so, they revealed their location which was in Kazakhstan.

Once the turbulence ended, Serena started to strap on her parachute, but just as she started, Steve started to begin his annual mission speech. 

“Alright, intel said they shouldn’t expect us, and be occupied on the northwest sector of the facility, but don’t assume. Be prepared for anything. Pierce, anything you want to add?” Steve asked and the entire team turned to Serena.

Serena nodded as she pulled the final strap securing the parachute harness to her body. 

“This is a stealth operation.” Serena began as she walked up to stand next to Steve. “Which means, not to draw attention, hence why the Quinjet is currently in stealth-mode. Our assignment is to take out the terrorists to prevent any future attack. I want everyone to mentally and physically prepare themselves to take a lethal action. These guys are dangerous, as Cap said, be prepared for anything, they don’t know we’re coming…I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.” 

Steve nodded. “Watch each other, and watch yourselves, and we’ll all make it out alive.”

The group nodded and began to go over their final weapons checks. Serena checked both of her Glocks, to make sure they were loaded and ready before placing them in the holster around her waist and she checked to make sure her batons were securely strapped to the holster around her back. Her stealth suit was in dark navy blue but was modeled after the black stealth suit with hunter green piping the CIA gave her when she was on missions. Out of both suits however, Serena preferred the CIA one. Why? She loved green.

 She quickly rose to the tips of her toes before easily settling back on to flat feet again. She did it before every mission to come her nerves and did it before every ballet performance to calm her nerves. So far, it worked like a charm. 

“Eager to get this over with?” Steve asked as he came alongside of her.

Serena smiled and shook her head. “Honestly, I just want to go home. I was out to dinner with my mother and aunt when Fury sent me the memo about this.”

“Dinner?” Steve asked in disbelief. “Must’ve been nice.”

Serena nodded. “It was, I had a couple glasses of wine. You should try the place, it’s this French Restaurant downtown, it’s not too fancy, but it’s fancy enough. You’d like it.”

“I’ll put it on my list of things to do.” Steve said with a nod making Serena laugh. 

“That list keeps on growing.” Serena said in disbelief. “Did you discover reality TV yet?” 

Steve shook his head and smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t.” 

Serena’s jaw dropped in amused shock. “Ok, just for that, I am coming over and I am educating you. I am educating you in all that Bravo has to offer.”

“All it has to offer?” Steve asked in disbelief. 

She nodded. “What’re your plans this weekend?” 

“Well, I would go and call up the guys in my barbershop quartet…but they’re all dead.” Steve explained making Serena cringe.

“Sorry.” She said with a somber tone.

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I’m free this Saturday.” He explained.

Serena clapped her hands together in excitement. “Perfect! We’re starting with The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. It’ll take us all night before we get to Orange County, New Jersey, Atlanta, and Miami.” 

“Prepare yourself for a lot of table-throwing Cap.” Rumlow called from his position at the back of the Quinjet.

“Table-throwing?” Steve asked in disbelief. 

“Just you wait.” Serena smirked as she patted Steve’s shoulder. Her smirk then immediately turned into a frown. “Oh my god.”

“What?” He asked.

“Molly is getting a procedure done at the Vet’s office on Friday. I want to be there for her afterwards.” She explained. “I can’t do it this weekend.” 

“Bring her too.” Steve suggested.

“Really?” Serena asked in disbelief. “You wouldn’t mind.”

“I love dogs, she’s no bother.” Steve said with a small smile.

“Thanks Cap.” She smiled back.

Just as Steve was about to reply, he was interrupted by the pilot. 

“Cap, Pierce, we’re over the drop zone.” The pilot instructed.

“Let’s move.” Steve and Serena instructed. 

Within a matter of moments, the button that opened the back hatch was pushed and the team started to jump out. Serena was one of the last ones to jump, but still jumped, nonetheless. After a few seconds, she pulled her parachute, which jerked her body from a free-falling position to gently descending among the clouds. 
From her air position, she could see Steve already landing on the ground, and getting ready to begin the ground assault, and as soon as Serena and the rest of the team landed, that’s when the plan started to take place. No one was surprised by how the mission went, as the mission went as a success. Within a matter of 20 minutes, the terrorists were successfully assassinated, and the entire facility was wiped clean of ever having a trace of S.T.R.I.K.E ever being there. In the back of her mind, Serena knew that her and Steve made a good pair, but it really showed in how many successful missions they had versus how many failed ones. So far, successful missions were at 14, and failed missions were at 0, which even Nick Fury had to say was impressive. In other words, under the leadership of Captain America and The Viper, S.T.R.I.K.E was practically invincible, which met Serena’s wish of not being a failure. And that she would be eternally grateful for.

Notes:

Next chapter will take place directly after this one, so no 3 month time jump. Hope everyone had a great holiday season and I'll see you all next time!

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Notes:

A/N:

Sorry for the inactivity! A lot has been going on! Here is a long chapter to make up for it! Fill free to comment, follow, share, and like.

Best,

The Author

1 Week Later
Location: Washington, D.C.

“C’mon, Molly, you’re doing so well.” Serena said with a small smile as she carefully guided the Golden Retriever out of the Vet’s office to head to her car.

Serena walked very slowly, to allow for Molly to not exaggerate the usage of her leg. The procedure Molly had done was the removal of a small fatty tumor, which for a dog only about a year old was highly uncharacteristic, but because of Molly’s issues with her immune system, Serena had to be always cautious with her dog. After carefully picking the dog up and placing her in the front seat, Serena walked around to the driver’s side and got in. No sooner Serena pulled onto the highway to head back home; her phone rang. She quickly connected her phone to Bluetooth so she wouldn’t be distracted.

“Hello?” Serena answered.

“We need you to come in.” Fury’s voice echoed through her car.

Serena groaned. “Are you kidding me? I just picked up my dog from the Vet. Can’t you handle this without me?”

“This assignment is an assault. We’ve got a lead on Ivankov.” Fury explained.

“Where?” Serena said, now fully paying attention.

“Quito, in Ecuador.” Fury continued. “A little south of the boarder for him, but I’m not surprised…he’s been trying to get off our radar for months.”

“Evidently not hard enough if he’s on your radar.” Serena huffed. “When do we leave?” 

“6 hours., you better be there.” Fury said before hanging up.

Serena sighed before glancing over to Molly, who was happily panting in the seat next to her. She gave her a small smile before pulling over to tell her mother, that she would need to come and get Molly, as she wouldn’t be home for at least a few days.

10 Hours Later
Location: Pacific Ocean

Serena jumped grabbing onto the wall as the Quinjet shook with turbulence. She quickly readjusted her stance as she continued her annual mission weapons check. She hated the fact that she had to leave Molly with her mother, but in the back of her mind, her mother had taken care of enough dogs in her lifetime, so she was in great hands.

“How’s Molly?” Steve asked as he came alongside her.

Serena nodded. “She’s good. She’s with my parents, I have them taking care of her for the next couple of days…at least until the mission is done.”

“Did the surgery go well?” He asked.She nodded again. “Yeah, as well as it could. They got the tumor out, thank god it was benign.” 

“Thank god.” He said in agreement.

“Cap, Pierce, what’s the call?” Rumlow asked from the other side of the Quinjet, interrupting their conversation.

Serena and Steve turned around and addressed the holographic image of the compound just on the outskirts of Quito that they were about to take down. Alongside the image of the compound, an image of a man in his early 60s appeared as well.

“Peter Ivankov is one of the surprising masterminds that worked closely and supported the ELN back in the early to mid-90s.” Rumlow explained. “Before that, he was an illegal arms dealer for the Soviet Union. That’s how he became on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar. After an incident in Bogotá, S.H.I.E.L.D lost all traces of him…until recently.”

Serena felt a chill go down her spine at the mention of the ELN. In the back of her mind, she could remember being in her father’s office in the Embassy and watching Max’s head explode in front of her.

“Alright.” Steve began. “Our best bet is to do a two-pronged operation. Rumlow, you and Team Alpha go through the rear, take down the security for the front of the compound. Pierce, you, Team Beta, and I will go through the underground tunnels. We clear every floor, starting with the bottom, until we find Ivankov. Team Gamma will go through the front and secure the entrance and Team Chi will stay in their Quinjet and monitor from the sky. I want all entrances and exits covered.” 

“Copy.” Rumlow nodded. “S.T.R.I.K.E gear up.”

Within the next half hour, they were all on the ground on the outskirts of Quito. Serena felt a pit fill her stomach as she walked through the jungle. Much to all their surprise, there were no men patrolling, which made Serena’s anxiety go through the roof…they had to be inside. Eventually, the teams came to the point where they split off with Rumlow, Rollins, and their team heading towards the back, with Serena, Steve, and their team heading through the tunnels. They moved through them with caution, as they didn’t know what they would entail and or find. But again, much to their surprise, there were no guards at all.

“This is strange.” Steve said aloud.

“Agreed.” Serena replied.

“Cap, Pierce, we’re in do you copy?” Rumlow asked over the coms. 

“We’re in the tunnels.” Steve explained “We’re coming up on the entry point. You all take the top half of the facility; we’ll take the bottom half. We rendezvous at the main entrance once we have Ivankov.”

“Copy.” Rumlow replied.

Once they found the entry point, they all started to climb up the ladder with Steve leading the way. No sooner, the last member of their team made it to the surface, that’s when they started to find patrols. Compared to patrol’s she’s experienced from arms dealers in the past, Serena believed that these were quite easy and rather scattered…almost lazy in a way. This entire operation felt too easy in her opinion. And it was also odd, that there were empty crates throughout the facility…Rumlow and Rollins continuously updated what they found on the coms…again, it felt too easy.

Within a matter of moments, they found a large opening with two wooden doors. It wasn’t heavily guarded, which made Serena frown in confusion. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“This doesn’t make sense. Ivankov is one of the most dangerous men on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar right now…this place isn’t that heavily barricaded…or guarded.” Serena explained

Steve nodded. “I agree. Watch our 6 as Pierce and I go in.”

The team nodded and began to take positions as Steve looked at Serena who already had both of her Glocks loaded, ready, and in hand.

“You ready?” He asked.

Serena shrugged. “Not like I have a choice.”

Steve gestured to the door as he pulled his shield off his back. “You wanna do the honors?”

Serena smirked. “It would be my honor, Captain.”

Serena then kicked open the door using her right leg and her eyes widened at the sight. All the missing weapons, bombs, and other arms were in this one office. And at the center of it, holding a detonator was the man they were looking for Peter Ivankov. He looked beaten down, like he was ready to give up and surrender, but based upon the number of arms he had in this very room…that thought was highly unlikely.

“All teams, evacuate the facility.” Serena spoke quietly into the coms. “Ivankov has a detonator, evac now.”

“Copy.” Rumlow and various team leaders replied.

“Captain Rogers, please come in.” Ivankov began. “It is wonderful to see you, I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“There’s nowhere to run.” Steve explained.

Ivankov let out a laugh. “And yet you’ve been running away from the wrong enemy for so long. Tell me Captain, are you prepared for a New World Order? You have been fighting the wrong enemy. S.H.I.E.L.D is the real enemy. The blood on its hands can go back decades…it has the real enemy.” 

“It’s best you surrender.” Steve began taking a step forward as he noticed Ivankov’s hand gripped tighter on the detonator.

Serena shook her head in disbelief at the words that came out of Ivankov’s mouth. “Conspiracies are not my forte, but I know a lying man when I see one.” 

“Yet, your father has more blood on his hands then anyone.” Ivankov began. Steve glanced over to Serena who gripped tighter on both of her Glocks as she aimed them at him. 

She shook her head again in disbelief. She knew her father was a good man and had never done anything to harm her…he did everything to protect her.

“I remember you that day in Bogotá.” Ivankov began making Serena’s eyes widen. “Your bodyguard was killed by my men, and they watched as you tried to put his brain back into his skull.”

Serena’s aim had started to fail, as she begun to shake.

“Your father orchestrated that day. He wanted to see you die, he wanted you to…”Ivankov began but didn’t finish the sentence because Serena had shot him in the head as tears were fully coming down her face.

“Pierce.” She heard Steve said but she ignored him as she slowly took a few steps forward to look over the dead man.

“Pierce!” Steve barked at her making her head snap to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” She quietly replied before the building shook.

Serena glanced down and saw that Ivankov pushed the detonator before he died, indicating that the place was going to blow in a matter of moments.

“C’mon!” Steve barked at her before they both ran out of the room. 

As they continued to run through the facility, it continued to shake as bombs in various places around the facility began to detonate. Just as they were about to reach the main entrance, the final bomb blew causing everything in Serena’s mind to go black.

Serena stirred as she began to come back into consciousness and realized that she was trapped under a piece of debris and felt something wet touch her neck. That’s when she realized she had a shard of glass inside of her shoulder and was bleeding. 

“Cap.” She whispered due to the dust in her throat.

No answer.

“Captain Rogers?” She called out louder before coughing.

“Pierce?” He called not so far away. “Are you ok?”

“No.” Serena whispered as she saw a dark silhouette sit down next to her.

“There’s a pretty large glass shard in your right shoulder, if I pull it out, I don’t have anything to stop the bleeding.” He explained. 

Serena weakly nodded as she felt herself starting to doze off.

“Hey, hey, stay with me. Pierce…Pierce…Serena.” Were the last words Serena heard before she slipped out of consciousness again.

Serena groaned as she came back into consciousness again, and realized where she was immediately. She could hear a familiar beeping sound and hear familiar voices talking. She was in a S.H.I.E.L.D medical facility. As soon as she opened her eyes, she was met with bright lights and a white ceiling…oh yeah, she was in a medical facility.
Serena groaned again before reaching up to touch her head. 

“Serena!” A familiar voice said with joy. Serena looked in the direction the voice came from before the person engulfed her into a hug. Serena took in the scent of the woman and immediately smelled a familiar perfume…it was her mother.

“Oh, sweetie, we were so worried about you.” Felicita began as she pulled away from her daughter.

“I’m fine.” Serena groaned in exhaustion. “What happened?”

“You blacked out.” A deep voice said from the doorway.

Serena immediately turned her head to see Fury standing in the doorway.

“I gathered that.” She replied. “What happened?”

“Ivankov is dead, but his recruits are fragmented. After the last of the bombs went off, you and Rogers were trapped under the debris for a couple of hours, they did emergency surgery on you to get the glass out of your shoulder, Rogers stayed with you until it was completed.” He explained.

“Where is he?” She asked hoping that Steve was in better condition that she was.

“Interrogating one of Ivankov’s top officials.” Fury explained. “Trying to put together the missing pieces of our puzzle.”

Serena nodded before trying to sit up. Felicita immediately put her hand on her good shoulder.

“Sera, where are you going?” She asked in confusion.

“To the interrogation.” Serena began as she tried to push herself out of her bed.

“No, you need to rest, you just had surgery.” Felicita began.

Serena shook her head. “I’m fine. Really, I am.” 

“The surgeon said that it was 1 centimeter away from puncturing the subclavian artery. You’re lucky to be alive. You are being placed on medical leave until you are fully healed.” Fury said sternly.

Serena frowned in protest. “No! That’s not fair!”

“Serena, there is nothing realistic you can do.” Felicita explained. “Your arm is bandaged, and I don’t want to risk you getting hurt…and if your father was here and not in Paris right now, he would feel the same.”

Serena groaned in annoyance before leaning back in her bead, knowing there is nothing she could do to change Fury’s and her parents’ minds of letting her go back out into the field so soon after a surgery.

1 Week Later

Serena groaned in annoyance from her position on the couch in her living room. In the last week, she had been fighting with the bandage on her arm, as she found it rather annoying to put up with. All she wanted was to get back to work, but…she didn’t mind the time off. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch eating her Chinese takeout, all while catching up on her TV. Within the last week, Serena had time to catch up on all her favorite shows including but not limited to, Vanderpump Rules, Keeping Up with The Kardashians, Mad Men, The Walking Dead, and of course, The Bachelor. Traveling around the world constantly for work, Serena never had any time for herself anymore, so for the first time in a couple of months, Serena could finally sit back and relax…thanks to her healing shoulder. Just as she was about to take another bite of her General Tsao’s chicken, there was a knock at her front door. Molly immediately ran to the door of her apartment and started to bark…but based upon how quickly her tail was wagging, it must’ve been a familiar person. Serena carefully put her food on the coffee table in front of her, paused the TV and walked over to the front door, expecting it to be either her parents, aunt, uncle, or her cousin Rebecca based upon how Molly was acting. So, when she opened the door and revealed that Steve Rogers was on the other side, she was taken back.

“Ca-Cap?” She said in disbelief with her eyes wide. “What’re you…what’re you doing here?”

“It’s Steve.” He began with a small sigh. “Fury wanted me to check in on you, plus, I brought you donuts.” He explained and she glanced down to the box in his hands. 

Serena smiled. “Thank you.” She then opened the door more. “Come on in.”

Steve smiled at the girl and walked into the apartment, to allow for Serena to close the door. As he set the box of donuts on the kitchen counter, he took in the girl’s apartment. Unlike his apartment which was spotless, Serena’s had been slightly unkept with some dirty dishes in the sink, a filled laundry basket sitting by the dryer, and a large stack of S.H.I.E.L.D files on her coffee table. But aside from the mess, he saw some key factors of her life. He saw a picture on a small end table of Serena jumping over an obstacle on a horse, and on the other side of the end table, he saw another picture of Serena, this time in a red tutu, and pointe shoes on. 

‘She must’ve had a pretty interesting life prior to S.H.I.E.L.D..’ Steve thought to himself.

“I’m sorry about the mess. My parents don’t want me doing anything strenuous on my arm…and that includes tidying my apartment.” Serena explained cutting Steve of his train of thoughts. 

“It’s fine.” Steve said with a small nod. “I don’t mind.”

“I usually don’t live like this.” She explained.

Just as Steve was about to reply, Molly trotted over to him. Steve immediately knelt and started to pet the dog.

“Hi Molly.” Steve said warmly before addressing Serena. “She looks great.”

Serena nodded. “I know, I’m honestly surprised how she acts like it was nothing. My mom said a couple hours after her surgery she was running around the house. Can I get you anything? Like water, juice, wine?”

“A water is fine.” Steve said as he stood up and walked to the end table where the two pictures were. “Are these of you?”

Serena smiled from her position in the kitchen as she poured Steve a glass of water. 

“Yes.” She explained. “The one on the left is during a horse show from when I was younger, and the right is from a dance recital I did.” 

“I didn’t know you did ballet.” Steve said in disbelief walking over to her kitchen counter and taking a seat at it. 

She nodded. “I almost went to Julliard for it. That was my original end goal…not the CIA, and definitely not S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“What changed?” He asked. 

Serena walked around to the other side of the counter and pointed to the scar that went down the lower portion of her leg (which was visible because she was in shorts). 

“I fell…that’s what happened.” She explained. “I fell during the last act of Swan Lake…the last number, just before I was about to jump off the stage, to symbolize the swan jumping off the cliff, my pointe shoe came off my foot, making me slip and fall down the stairs. I had to get surgery on my leg, foot, and ankle…and I got told I’d never dance again…bye bye Julliard, and bye bye ballet.”

“I’m so sorry Serena.” He said with a somber look. 

Serena shrugged. “It’s ok. It is what it is. Honestly, I’m glad I didn’t go…people in the dance world suck…I mean…look at those kids on Dance Moms.”

Steve frowned making Serena roll her eyes.

“You didn’t get into Reality TV yet have you?” She asked.

“I was waiting for you.” He explained.

“For me to what? Walk you through it? Baby step you into it?” Serena asked with humor. “You’re really showing your age.”

“I’m 95.” Steve scoffed. “I’m not dead.” 

Serena let out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I needed a good laugh, especially after the last couple of weeks.” 

Steve let out a small chuckle. “I’m glad I can amuse you.” He then quickly glanced at the TV. “What’re you watching?”

Serena smiled as she gestured for Steve to sit on the couch in front of her TV. “You came just in time, for one of Reality T.V.’s most iconic moments…I’ve been watching re-runs of Keeping Up with The Kardashians, and I happened to stumble upon this gem of an episode.”

Steve grabbed his water and sat down on the couch. “What’s the purpose?”

“So, Kim, the middle sister, was making enough money to buy a Bentley, which angered her other two sisters…you know what, I’ll just start the episode from the beginning. How much time you got?” Serena asked tucking her feet underneath her as she sat down on the couch, with Molly laying at the foot of it beneath the two of them.

“As much time as needed?” Steve asked with hesitance…he should’ve only said an hour.

Serena’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she smiled wickedly. “Excellent.”

5 Hours Later

“Wait, so why did he throw her into the water when he knew she was wearing diamond earrings?” Steve asked as he reached for another donut.

Serena shrugged. “He wanted to play a practical joke on her…but as you can see from the number of episodes I’ve shown you; she doesn’t really like them.”

“I now get why Tony mentioned to me a while back that I was ‘doing amazing sweetie’.” Steve explained getting a laugh from Serena. “He was referencing Kris Jenner.”

“I reference Kris Jenner all the time…she’s too quotable.” Serena explained.

“Thanks for the Reality T.V education, I really appreciate it. I’m surprised no one told me to put it on the list.” Steve explained.

“The list?” Serena questioned turning towards him. She leaned her right arm against the back of the couch to rest her head in her hand. “What list?”

Steve reached into the back pocket of his jeans, before passing the brunette a small brown leather book.

“Since I’ve been awake, I’ve gotten recommendations on what I should catch up on. So far, these are the ones that have made it.” He explained. 

Serena sighed as she began to look it over. 

“I Love Lucy, very fair, she’s a comedic icon.” Serena began making brief eye contact with him before continuing.

“The Moon Landing…yeah it’s a good idea where you learn the ‘one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’ quote.” She explained. “It’ll give you better context when you watch movies like For all Mankind.”

Steve nodded, as he carefully studied the girl’s reactions to the list. He noticed that her eyes would light up with some, and they would darken with others…she really was interested in what he wrote down.

“Uh, the Berlin Wall…yeah, you kinda do need to learn that since…” Serena trailed off.

“Because the last time I was in Germany it was controlled by Nazis?” Steve asked with a small smile.

“Yeah, that.” Serena said with a nod before continuing. “Steve Jobs…do you know how to use an iPhone?” 

Steve rolled his eyes before reaching down to help Molly onto the couch. “I’m not clueless.”

“Fair point.” Serena laughed. “Disco’s good, oh, Thai Food, Green Curry is literally one of my favorite cheat meals…any Thai curry really.”

“I’ll have to try it.” He explained as he scratched behind the dog’s ears.

“Star Wars and Star Trek, good choices, but you’ll need to have a nerd watch them with you to understand the lore…it’s complicated. My cousin Rebecca is into them, and she’s tried to get me involved into the lore so many times.” She explained. “But watching the movies is a good idea.”

Steve nodded, mentally noting Serena’s opinion on the items on the list.

“Nirvana…one of the best bands of all time. Smells Like Teen Spirit should be the first song you listen to by them.” She explained before continuing. “And the Rocky movies…not bad for your first list.” 

“My first list?” Steve asking raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Get a blank page and start a new list.” Serena explained with a smile as she handed the journal back to him. 

He did as she obliged and grabbed a pen off her coffee table. 

“What do you want me to title it?” He asked with a smile. “The old one is just my regular ‘To-Do List.’”

She fell quiet for a few minutes before smiling. She found a title in the back of her talented mind.

“Steve and Serena’s To-Do List.” Serena said with a smile.

Steve let out a laugh. “How original.” 

Serena let out an annoyed gasp. “Hey, give me a break, I came up with it on the fly!”

“I’m not saying it’s bad.” Steve explained as he wrote down what the girl had said as the title.

“You’re just saying it’s not unique enough for you?” Serena playfully asked.

Steve rolled his eyes making Serena laugh again, this time, so hard, she felt pain in her rib cage.

Her eyes widened in playful anger as she glared at Steve. “Fuck you Steve, thanks for making me laugh so hard it hurt.” 

“Watch your language, and I didn’t mean it.” He explained making Serena tilt her head to the side in confusion. He sighed. “I have to get use to people cursing all the time.”

“Write that down as number 1.” Serena explained. “I am going to help you adjust to our modern times, by first recognizing that you’re not going to get arrested for saying the work ‘fuck’ in public, and two by teaching you slang.”

Steve rolled his eyes before writing it down. “I don’t know if I can behind that, but what else?” He asked. 

“Beyonce and Taylor Swift.” She explained. “Those are 2 and 3. And they are very important to today’s society.”

“Are they actresses?” Steve asked.

Serena tilted her head back and forth. “Yes and no, they are musicians…really famous ones.” 

Steve nodded and continued writing. 

“Also put in Mean Girls, Legally Blonde, the first one, not the second one, the second one sucks, and Harry Potter, both the books and the movies.” She continued. “Also add Michel Jackson, and James Bond.”

“You sure have a lot of ideas.” Steve began realizing how big ‘their’ to-do list was.

“I’m not even close to finishing.” Serena smirked. “Also add Pixar movies and in parenthesis (Disney), so in case you’re confused when looking on which one to see, you can Google it beforehand.” 

Steve nodded before glancing up to look her in the eye. “That’s smart.”

Serena smiled. “I know right? Also add Marilyn Monroe, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Pulp Fiction, Margaritas, and Titanic…the movie...were you alive for that? The sinking I mean.”

“I was born in 1918, not 1912.” He explained with a sigh. “Is that all?”

“I’m not done yet.” She explained. “Add the NHL, Formula 1, and EDM.” 

“NHL and Formula 1?” Steve asked.

She smiled. “My dad owns part of the Capitals, and my mother’s family has large investments in F1…it’s been like that since before I was born.” 

“You really grew up with it all didn’t you?” Steve asked.

Serena sighed. “Yes and no. My parents were always working, so I never had the chance to see them. Plus, I never had a normal childhood…I was kinda taken as a hostage when I was a child.”

“Is that what Ivankov was mentioning? Something with the ELN in Bogotá?” Steve questioned hesitantly, not wanting to make her feel obligated to tell him and or uncomfortable. “You don’t have to tell me now; you can tell me when you’re ready.”

Serena smiled. “Thank you, Steve, I really appreciate it.”

Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, I should get going.” 

Serena nodded as she slowly got off of the couch to see Steve out the door. 

“Thanks for stopping by…and for the donuts.” Serena said with a smile as she held the door open for Steve.

Steve smiled back. “When’re you coming back to STRIKE?”

Serena shrugged. “When my shoulder heals…so hopefully soon.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.” Steve said with a nod. “Goodnight Serena.”

Her smile grew. “Good night, Steve.” 

Serena closed the door and glanced back to Molly on the couch, who gave her the biggest sad eyes.

“I feel like you see him more as your owner than I am to you.” Serena began looking at the dog's expression. “And I don’t blame you, he has that ability to bring people in...maybe I can be friends with him after all, since out of all of the people who work at SHIELD, he's the only one, other than Fury, my parents, and Hill, who physically came and checked in on me."

The dog didn't respond but just laid back down on the couch.

'Maybe he can allow me to trust more freely.' Serena thought, as she might've just realized that Steve was one of the few people in the world, who wouldn't hurt her.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns :).

3 Weeks Later

Location: Alexandria, Virginia

Serena let out a frustrated sigh as she carefully walked up the steps of her parents’ house, knowing in the back of her mind, she did not want to be there. Tonight was the annual dinner party her parents hosted where all the big names in intelligence, and government officials attended and got drunk. Because Serena had both de Fontaine and Pierce as part of her name, she had no choice on if she wanted to attend or not. She quickly glanced down at her dress, which was an emerald green (her favorite color) silk, short, sleeveless cowl-neck dress along with a pair of plain nude pointed toe heels. Her hair was pulled back perfectly into a neat bun, with simple diamond earrings to accent the dress. She also had a matching emerald clutch which had her two most important things in her life, which were her phone, and Advil…as she needed both to get through the night. She carefully knocked on the door and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down, but as soon as she took the breath, the door opened revealing Renata on the other side.

“Miss Pierce! You know you don’t have to knock to enter! Come in!” Renata exclaimed upon seeing Serena.

Serena smiled and let out her breath as she hugged the older woman. Renata had been working for her father for the past 15 years, so in Serena’s mind, Renata was like another aunt to her…a more visibly sane aunt compared to the one she had.

Serena pulled out of the hug. “It’s good to see you Renata, where’s my parents?”

Renata sighed. “Mr. Pierce is speaking with President Ellis and Vice President Thompson outside, and I believe the last time I saw Mrs. Pierce she was speaking with your aunt and uncle.”

Serena nodded. “Thank you.”

Serena ventured further into the house, saying hello to the few government officials that she knew quite well, until she found her mother, aunt, and uncle, speaking by the grand piano…all conversed in a very heated conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I debated on coming tonight.” Serena said honestly which interrupted the conversation the three were in.

“Sweetie!” Felicita explained before hugging her daughter. “I’m so happy you came!”

“And as I said, I debated on coming.” Serena replied with a sigh as she pulled out of the hug with her mother.

“I don’t blame you, these parties are not fun, especially when you get older.” Everett began earning a laugh from Serena.

“And yet here you are.” Val said with an eyeroll before handing both her husband and niece champagne flutes. “Drinking Alex’s expensive champagne and suffering like the rest of us.”

“Trust me, I’d rather be in a Quinjet on the way to somewhere right now.” Serena explained before taking a sip of her champagne.

“Did you get cleared yet?” Everett asked.

Serena nodded. “About a week ago, which was sooner than the doctor wanted, but with good persuasion, I was able to get off a week earlier.”

“She asked her father to override it.” Felicita explained earning a laugh from Val and an eyeroll from Everett.

“Listen, if you were stuck in your house all day, you’d go crazy.” She explained. “I think Molly and I got tired of looking at each other.”

“I have a question.” Felicita began in a tone Serena knew all too well.

“Mom.” Serena began. “No.”

“Just one song…please?” Felicita begged gesturing to the piano.

Serena huffed in annoyance before she sat down at the piano and looked to her mother.

“Any requests?” Serena asked in annoyance placing her champagne flute on top of the piano. “Or can I play whatever?”

“Fur Elise.” Felicita said warmly. “And thank you.”

“I want Dad’s expensive wine after this.” Serena said with a groan before beginning to play Beethoven’s Fur Elise.

All fell silent in the home as Serena begun to play. She played the song so many times over the years that she didn’t even need sheet music…she memorized the entire song, including which keys she had to play. Much to her annoyance, she loved playing piano, she just hated playing in front of people…especially when most of the highest-ranking government officials were at this party. Externally, she looked composed and somewhat happy, as she had a small smile while she played, but inside, she felt like she wanted to vomit.

Unknown to her, Steve, who was invited to the party by Fury was there, and in conversation with Fury himself, when she started to play. They could hear the piano from outside where they were standing, they quietly walked inside, and much to Steve’s surprise, he saw Serena playing the piano.

Shock immediately came on his face, as he didn’t know she could play and or the fact that she would be there this evening.

“Cat got your tongue, Rogers?” Fury quietly asked from his position beside Steve.

Steve shook his head. “I-I didn’t know she could play.”

Fury smiled with pride. “She can do many things. She’s a prodigy. Ever since I met her when she was 5, I knew she was smart…the girl is gifted.”

“You met her that young?” Steve asked turning to look at Fury.

Fury nodded. “I rescued her in Bogotá, but the girl was able to time when the ELN brought in hostages, and or took out hostages. She also was teaching herself Spanish and Sign Language…as I said before, she’s a prodigy.”

Just as Steve was about to reply, Serena ended the song, which earned applause from every single person in the room. Serena had a soft, warm smile on her face as she looked around the room, but as soon as she made eye-contact with Steve, her smile immediately dropped. She didn’t think he’d be there, especially since none of her family mentioned it. She grabbed her champagne flute off the piano and immediately stood up. She was about to head outside to get away from everyone before her father stopped her.

“Sera, you didn’t tell me you wanted to play tonight.” Her father said warmly as both the President and the Vice President stood beside him.

Serena shrugged. “Mom kinda forced me to play…didn’t really have a choice.”

“Well, it still was good. You remember Matt, and George, right?” Alex explained gesturing to two of the most powerful men in Washington like they were on a golf course.

Serena nodded before shaking hands with both. “Yes of course. It’s a pleasure to see you both again.”

“You as well.” President Ellis began. “Your father tells us you are no longer working for the Agency anymore and are working at SHIELD.”

Serena nodded again and briefly explained what she was doing before finally being able to get outside, to catch her breath and get away from the party. She hated her parents’ parties. They were stuffy and traditional and most of the attendees were over 50…so she didn’t really have anyone to talk to unless it was her family, or Fury, but even he had obligations. She quickly walked to the other side of the pool, far away from the house and started to down her champagne.

“Are you that desperate to get drunk?” A familiar voice asked.

She sighed before turning around to see Steve standing there in a collared blue shirt with a black sweater over top of it. He had his hands in his pockets, and looked just as annoyed about being there as she was.

“Yes.” She said with a slight nod. “I hate parties like this.”

He let out a small laugh before looking down. “I don’t blame you, I hate ‘em too.”

“I’ve been attending these stupid parties since I was a kid. You think I would be used to them by now…” She explained before trailing off.

“But?” He asked hesitantly.

“But I’m now. There’s no one really to talk to. Every single person in there is either kissing up to my parents or wanting to get drunk on their alcohol. And the only people that I usually end up talking to are my family and Fury…but even Fury is sometimes a hit or miss depending on if he wants to show up or not.” She explained. “Did you meet my parents?”

Steve shook his head. “Fury steered me away from them. I don’t even think they knew I was there.”

She smiled. “Good, you don’t need to meet them.”

They were silent for a few moments before Steve started:

“I didn’t know you could play piano.” He said with honesty. “You’re quite good.”

A small blush came to her face. “Thank you. I don’t play often, I love playing, but I hate how many people look at me…performance anxiety, I guess.”

“I know what that feels like.” He explained. “I used to get it during those stupid USO shows…thought I was the only one who had it or experienced it, until I did some reading about it recently…turns out most people have it.”

She nodded. “Why do you think before every mission I go on my toes and then back down onto flat feet? It’s usually to calm my nerves. It helps if you want to try it.”

“I don’t get nervous on missions, I guess it’s the soldier in me.” Steve explained.

Serena nodded before silence fell over them. Just as she was about to suggest that they’d head back inside, an idea came into her head.

“Do you…want to do something fun?” She asked with hesitance.

“Like?” Steve asked with confusion.

“Get out of here and do something way more fun?” She asked with a small smile.

Steve smiled. “Definitely.”

Serena’s smile grew as she walked past him. “C’mon Rogers, time to live a little, but don’t worry, they won’t even know we’re gone.”

“I came with Fury.” Steve explained.

Serena shrugged. “So, I’ll get yelled at tomorrow…it’ll be a typical Monday.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief as Serena guided them through the house and out the front door. Much to his surprise, no one noticed they were gone. Serena opened her clutch and grabbed her car keys, and as soon as she clicked the unlock button, a black BMW’s lights flashed.

“Get in, I’m driving.” She said as they both got in, with Serena in the driver’s seat, and Steve in the passengers.

“Where’re we going?” He asked, still not knowing where he was going.

“To get something to eat that is not smoked duck or caviar.” She explained as she turned the car on and began to drive off her parents’ property.

After about 10 minutes of silence, Serena hit the radio button the console, and Beyonce and Jay-Z’s Crazy in Love started to blast through the speakers.

“Got me lookin’ so crazy right now, your love’s got me lookin’ so crazy right now.” Serena sang. “Got me lookin’ so crazy right now, your touch got me lookin’ so crazy right now.”

“WHAT IS THIS?” Steve shouted over the music, causing Serena to turn it down slightly, so she didn’t have to go deaf in her right ear.

“It’s Beyonce!” She explained as she hummed along to the song.

“This is Beyonce?” He asked in disbelief, still not quite understanding how famous Beyonce was.

“Yes.” She nodded. “This is actually one of her most famous songs…she sings it with her husband Jay-Z.”

“I’m guessing she’s won a lot of awards.” Steve asked innocently, still not knowing a clue.

Serena laughed hard. “Dude, you have no idea.”

Eventually, she pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour diner, and since it was almost 10:00 at night, not many places were open. Plus, there wasn’t many people so no one would recognize him…and if they did, Serena would most likely kill them…literally.

They sat down at a booth and ordered dinner with both ordering cheeseburgers.

“See, isn’t this so much better than eating caviar with the president?” She asked.

Steve nodded. “I will admit that it was stuffy.”

“I’m going to be honest…I don’t know if I can trust you fully.” Serena admitted

Steve playful raised his eyebrows. “Trust me? Seriously? If you don’t trust me, why did you eat the donuts I brought you a couple weeks ago?”

“Because they were good, and who’s going to turn down free donuts?” Serena asked.

“I genuinely thought we were getting to become friends.” Steve explained.

She sighed. “I’ve never been good at the whole…friend thing…most of my friends usually wanted to take advantage of my parents and or experience box tickets to Capitals games and or Paddock Passes for the Monaco Grand Prix.”

“The only things that I genuinely know about you is that you are stubborn, enjoy reality T.V., can play piano, did ballet, and are good with a Glock.”

She smiled and looked down at her hands. “That about sums me up…but like I said I…”

“See, the whole thing about friends, is you have to tell them the deep stuff.” Steve explained as he leaned forward to rest his arms on the table.

“The deep stuff?” Serena playfully asked as she looked back up. “Uh-oh like what?”

“Like…” Steve began with a pause. “What your favorite color is.”

She playfully scoffed as she looked out the window. “Well now you’ve stepped over the line.”

“Seriously thought.” Steve asked not taking his eyes off her. “What is it?”

She turned her head back to him. “Green.”

“Like you’re wearing?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yes, what’s yours?”

“Blue.” He said with a small smile.

“Like your shield and old uniform?” She said with a small smirk.

He let out a small laugh and shook his head. “No, not that blue. A more muted blue, like when the ocean crashes against the rocks…a light blue…it’s my calming color.”

“I love the beach…I love the ocean…when my grandparents were alive, they use to have a house on the Amalfi Coast in Italy, and always remember going to the beach early in the morning, and going back to their house late at night…it was one of the best memories of my childhood.”

Steve nodded, but he didn’t pry more about the girl’s childhood as he didn’t know how complex it was.

“When’s your birthday?” He asked.

“April 19^th.” She sighed. “Yours?”

He blushed and looked down. “July 4^th.”

“NO!” She said with shock. “Your birthday is the Fourth of July? You must be kidding me!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Oh my god.” She said in disbelief before leaning back. “You just keep fitting into the mold more and more.”

“What mold?” He questioned.

“The patriotic mold.” She explained making both laugh after a moment of silence.

After a few more questions, and after the food came and they ate, the lightning round began.

“Favorite drink?” She asked.

“Nothing, because I can’t get drunk due to the serum. You?” He asked.

“I love a good martini with a twist, uh…love margaritas here and there, champagne and wine, and…oh I love a French 75 here and there.” She explained. “Random thing, many people don’t know?”

“Drawing.” He immediately replied.

“You can draw?” She asked in disbelief.
“I went to art school before I joined the army.” He explained.

She smiled. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I will.” He nodded. “Random fact not many people know?”

“I skipped 4^th grade.” She immediately replied.

“Of course you did.” He said with a smile.

“Prodigy.” Serena said as she crossed her arms and leaned back.

Steve rolled his eyes in amusement, which caused Serena to laugh. That’s when he realized, that for the first time since he’s been out of the ice, she allowed him to feel normal…well…as normal as he could be. She treated him like a human being, not like some fascination, and that, he was eternally grateful for.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

2 Weeks Later

“So, Darth Vader, is Luke Skywalker’s father?” Steve asked in disbelief as the end credits of Empire Strikes Back began to roll on the T.V. screen.

Serena nodded. “Yep.”

“What’s going to happen to Han Solo?” Steve asked with concern.

Serena sighed as she grabbed the T.V. remote and exited out of Empire Strikes Back and pressed play on Return of the Jedi.

“There’s a whole other movie.” She said with a smile as she stood up from her seat on the couch.

“Where’re you going?” He asked looking over the back of his couch.

“To raid your fridge…obviously.” She said with a smirk as she walked into his kitchen.

In the last couple of weeks, both Steve and Serena have gotten closer. Since their run-in at her parents’ house, both decided to start checking off items on their to-do list. So far, they’ve watched Titanic (which made Steve cry like a baby, but Serena didn’t judge), Mean Girls (which made Steve start to understand how Serena’s mind operates, but again Serena didn’t judge), and he tried a Margarita, which he wasn’t a big fan of…. Serena on the other hand, could drink 10 of them. So, to compensate for times Serena invited Steve over to her apartment, Steve invited Serena over to his apartment…and as of right now, it was 4 in the morning.

“Perfect.” Serena said as she walked back to the couch with a spoon and a pint of ice cream in hand.

“Aren’t you going to get a bowl?” Steve asked gesturing to the ice cream container.

Serena shrugged as she sat down. “You have 3 more unopened pints in there…I highly doubt you’re going to eat this one…plus the seal isn’t broken, so I won’t get your germs.”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked over to Molly who was resting her head in his lap. He gently began to pet the dog’s head.

“I swear to god that she loves you more than me.” Serena said with an eyeroll as she tucked her legs underneath her. “And you haven’t even known her for that long.”

“What can I say?” Steve said with a shrug. “I’m good with animals.”

“And people…to some extent.” Serena said after a pause.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She placed her ice cream on the coffee table, and turned her body to face him, a smile present on her face. “You literally thought I joined SHIELD, just so that I could boost my kill counts.”

“I…I didn’t know your true intentions…or the fact that your father is on the World Security Council.” Steve explained making Serena laugh.

“See…not good with people…that much…but then again, here I am, in your apartment for the 3^rd time this week.” She explained as she reached for her ice cream. “Raiding your fridge and stealing your ice cream.”

He smiled. “You have a point.”

She turned her body back towards the movie, but he could not take his eyes off her. He was taken with her. While Serena did have trust issues, Steve began to slowly realize that her trust issues were getting better (at least with him). She opened to him, and he opened to her. Both bonding over their trauma, and grief…he didn’t understand if this is what modern-day dating was like (even though he knew they weren’t dating), he didn’t mind if it was…the only thing was building up the courage to ask her to dinner. That might be the hardest thing he’s ever done. But looking over her now, in a pair of black leggings and a CIA sweatshirt, with her brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail, she looked…calm. Normal, casual…quite possibly the most casual person he’s ever been near for a long period of time…he felt more comfortable and open with her than Natasha, which he felt a little surprised by…but he felt normal around her. He felt like Steve Rogers around her, not Captain America.

“What?” She asked snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What?” He asked, coming back to reality.

“I’m asking you.” She said with a small smile. “You’re staring.”

“Nothing.” He said with a slight shake of his head. “Just thinking.”

“About?” She questioned.

“How much you owe me for that pint of ice cream.” He said with a smirk making her groan in annoyance, which made him laugh harder.

Just as she was about to reply, both of their phones went off. Both realized that they were being called in for a mission.

“Well, this killed the vibe.” Serena groaned as she stood up. “I’ll meet you at the Triskelion, I have to bring Molly back home.”

“She can stay here.” Steve said calmly.

“No, no…I-I can’t let you do that.” She began.

He put a hand up. “She’s no bother, really. Look, she already made herself at home.”

Both looked to the dog, who was sound asleep on the couch.

“Fine, but at least let me drive.” She begged.

He smiled. “Deal.”

Within a matter of moments, both were in Serena’s BMW heading toward the Triskelion.

“We should’ve stopped for coffee.” Serena yawned as she turned to get on the freeway.

“You tired?” Steve asked looking over at her from the passenger’s side.

She shrugged. “Somewhat…I’m not really in the mood to go on a mission right now…did I tell you that I have a stack of papers on my desk?”

“No, what’re they for?” He asked.

She shrugged again. “Hill dropped them off the other day. Fury wants ‘em done by Monday; I don’t know why he wants me of all people doing them…probably because I’m getting promoted to Level 8.”

“Seriously?” Steve asked in shock.

She nodded with a small smile. “I was going to tell you later…but it doesn’t hurt to tell you now.”

“Does that mean you are off STRIKE?” He asked, knowing that he didn’t want her to leave the team. He worked well with her, and now that they were officially friends, he didn’t want to lose her.

“Not necessarily.” She explained. “It essentially means that I’m going to be working closely with Fury and Hill, and am basically, Fury’s number 2, since Hill’s his number 1. It also means that I may be stationed places…so I won’t be around for every single STRIKE mission.”

Steve sighed. “That’s unfortunate…I’ve grown to appreciate your pop-culture references on missions.”

She let out a small laugh and an eye roll as she began to drive over the bridge which headed into the Triskelion. Eventually, once she parked the car, the two of them got out and scanned in, so that they could get into the building.

“Fury wants us in his office.” Steve explained as they walked across the lobby.

“Of course he does…we definitely should’ve gotten coffee.” Serena groaned making Steve shake his head in amusement.

They were silent in the elevator ride up to Fury’s office, both not knowing what to expect. Serena had a pit in her stomach, as Steve knocked on the door to Fury’s office.

“Come in.” Fury’s voice said.

Both sighed as they walked in, finding Fury sitting in the chair behind his desk.

“Good, you’re both here.” Fury began.

“As if we wouldn’t come running when you called.” Serena groaned.

“Why so cranky Pierce?” Fury asked. “Did interrupt your beauty sleep?”

Serena rolled her eyes as she sat down next to Steve.

“I’m glad that you are both here, so I can make this as painless as possible.” Fury began. “Agent Romanoff has finished her assignment in Belarus and is heading back to the Triskelion. She is being assigned to STRIKE…”

“Good.” Steve began. “With Romanoff on the team, Pierce and I will be able to manage more squads on missions.”

Serena fell quiet, knowing in the back of her mind what was going to come out of Fury’s mouth…something…she regretted.

“Agent Romanoff will be taking Agent Pierce’s place on STRIKE.” Fury explained making Serena’s eyes widen and Steve’s jaw fall slightly open in shock.

“Why?” Serena began with disbelief. “I-I’m a Specialist, I have a codename, I was brought into SHIELD for STRIKE. Did-did I do something wrong? Did I not…”

Fury put a hand up. “You did nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve done everything right. Because you’re going to be Assistant Deputy Director, you cannot be placed into the field as much.”

“Why?” She asked no becoming filled with anger. “Because of my safety?”

“Yes.” He simply responded.

“Who gave you that order?” She asked. “My father?”

“Serena.” Steve began placing a hand on her knee to try and calm her down.
“It was mine.” Fury explained. “Captain, can you please step out for a moment. I’d like to talk to Agent Pierce alone.”

Steve nodded and gave Serena a pat on the shoulder before he walked out of Fury’s office. She knew in the back of her mind that he didn’t go far…as she drove here…but she wanted to know his overall thoughts. Once Steve was out of the room, Serena turned back to being angry.

“If this is about the fact that the two of us are becoming closer I…” She began.

“You and I both know it’s not about that, so I don’t want to hear it.” Fury began making her sigh. “You knew this was going to happen. As soon as you receive that Level 8 clearance, you are no longer considered a Specialist and are officially dealing with compartmentalized information. I can’t have a security risk occur if you are in the field.”

“You know that wouldn’t happen.” She murmured.

“I know it wouldn’t happen, but it is standard protocol. You are only deployed into the field if and means necessary.” He explained making her lean back in her seat and cross her arms in frustration. “You are the youngest person I have ever offered this position to…and I’m not just offering you this position because of nepotism.”

That comment made her turn her head to look him in the eyes.

“You got this job, because you are capable of it…more than capable…it’s why I placed you on STRIKE and its why I’m giving you Level 8 clearance and Assistant Deputy Director…you’re gifted, and you know it.” He explained more solemnly.

“Am I getting stationed anywhere?” She asked after a sigh.

Fury nodded before grabbing a tablet. “What do you know about Project: INSIGHT?”

Serena shrugged. “Not much.”

“Has your father mentioned it to you?” Fury asked.

Serena nodded. “Slightly. He mentioned that after New York, and after the World Security Council decided to launch a nuke, the Department of Defense and the World Security Council decided to create 3 top of the line Helicarriers that could pinpoint, target, and eliminate potential ‘Avenger’ level threats before we need to call in the Avengers.”

“You know more than you think.” Fury explained. “Your father failed to mention to you that those Helicarriers were satellite linked, which is controlled from a mobile satellite launch platform, which is currently in the Indian Ocean.”

He gave her the tablet and as soon as he handed it to her, she started to read the file.

“The Lemurian Star.” Fury began. “One of SHIELD’s top of the line launch platforms, that is used for launching the satellites for Project: INSIGHT. The only problem is that I’m not allowed to know the overall details of the launch.”

“You’re the Director of SHIELD, you should have complete access to what occurs.” Serena countered, not believing a word coming out of his mouth.

Fury shook his head. “The ones thing you always were, was too intelligent. But sometimes Pierce you need to dig deeper than what the eyes can see…or the people you thought you could trust.”

Serena’s eyes widened, starting to understand his cryptic messages. “What are you saying, even though I have a feeling I know what you’re saying, but I won’t believe it until you say it.”

He sighed. “I need you to spy on your father, before you get stationed on the Lemurian Star.”

She inhaled deeply. “You want me to spy…on my father. Why?”

“He’s been acting strange lately, and I’m beginning to suspect that Project: INSIGHT isn’t as good as we believe it is…and I’m beginning to believe that its more of a risk than a reward.” He explained.

Serena looked down at her hands and began to twiddle her thumbs as her anxiety grew, as she didn’t know what to think in that moment. She didn’t want to go against her father, the man was nothing but good to her, but the reason as to why Fury was promoting her, from what Hill told her, was because she was loyal, not because she was the daughter of a member of the World Security Council.

“I know he’s your father, and I’m asking a lot, but I know, deep down, you as well have noticed your father becoming distant.” He continued calmly knowing her internal alarms were going off.

That’s when she realized that Fury was right. In the last few months, Serena had started to notice that her father had been becoming more distant and quieter towards her. Almost like he was in fact hiding something. She hadn’t mentioned it to her mother, but deep down, she knew her mother had noticed it as well, as both had a good perception of reading people.

Serena looked back up, to look him in the eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

He took the tablet out of her hands. “When you are on the Lemurian Star, I want you to obtain information regarding Project: INSIGHT. Anything you can gather on it, regarding the launch, the satellites, even to who could potentially be operating the controls to fly that thing…I want to know it.”

“When do I leave?” Serena said leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees.

“1 month.” He explained.

“How long will I be stationed?”

“Until I say so.”

“Will I be in charge of operations?”

“Until I say so.” He replied again. “Until I decide it’s time to extract.”

She frowned. “Extract what?”

“Extract our resources.” He sternly replied. “This stays between us…regarding your assignment.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Fury gestured to the door, indicating that he wanted her out of his site. And as she walked out, she quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. 5:30 am. She carefully opened the door to go out into the hall, and she saw Steve leaning against the wall checking his phone. As soon as he laid eyes on her, he put his phone away.

“What happened? You were in there a while.” He asked looking over her tired facial expression.

She shrugged. “Nothing much…can we…can we go somewhere?”

He was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know.” She explained as she started to walk down the hall. “I want to go for a walk.”

“Where?” He asked as he followed her down the hall.

“Far, far, away from here.” She immediately replied knowing in the back of her mind that she just potentially ruined the relationship she had with her father.

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

1 Week Later

“Would you like another helping of pot roast, sweetie?” Felicita asked as she got up from her seat.

“No, I’m fine Mom, but thank you.” Serena said with a warm smile.

“It’s your favorite…are you sure?” Her father asked.

Serena hesitantly nodded. “I’m not really hungry.”

Serena was eating dinner at her parents’ house, and for the first time in her life she felt intimidated being in their house. After meeting with Fury a week ago, she hadn’t been getting much sleep…wondering if her father was dealing with some shady people. She didn’t want to believe it…she couldn’t believe it. This is the man who was at every single dance recital of hers, every single horse show, every talent show, every PTA meeting, every graduation…she couldn’t believe it. It can’t be true, right? She felt a big pit in her stomach.

“Are you ok, Sera? You look a little green.” Alexander asked.

Serena forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine…I’ll be right back.”

She immediately got up from the dining room table, and quickly walked down the hall, once she was out of sight, she started to head towards the first-floor bathroom, but right across from the first-floor bathroom, was a room that may have the answers Fury needs. Her father’s office.

She quietly walked up to the door and entered the passcode which was 04191989 (which was her birthday) and entered the room. Her father’s office was mahogany, with bookshelves sitting behind his desk. She carefully closed the door behind her, so the sound wouldn’t attract the attention of her parents before quickly walking over to his desk. She turned on his computer and while it was loading, she began to search his desk drawers for anything related to SHIELD…she found nothing. Once the computer was on, she was met with a passcode. She tried everything from her birthday, her mother’s birthday, his birthday, the day SHIELD was founded, her grandfather’s birthday, and even the day her grandfather died…nothing, they were all wrong. That’s when it hit her, the one date she didn’t enter…The day in Bogotá. As soon as she entered it, the words success came across the screen and her father’s home screen popped up. That’s when she started to look for anything related to SHIELD and once again…nothing…he was good…too good. She then started to hear footsteps coming down the hall.

“Serena?” She heard her father say. “Are you alright sweetheart?”

“Yeah!” Serena called quickly shutting down the computer and closing all the desk drawers along with removing herself from his desk seat. Her eyes widened when she saw the doorknob turn, so she quickly grabbed a picture off her father’s desk. It was of her as a kid on the beach.

“What’re you doing in here?” He asked as he walked in.

She nonchalantly shrugged even though her heart was beating like it was going to come out of her chest. “Just looking around.”

He looked down at the picture in her hands. “I remember when that was taken…it was just after your 12^th birthday.”

“We were at the house in Martha’s Vineyard, right?” She asked.

He nodded. “You were so excited to be there for whale watching season. I remember taking you out on the boat and you almost fell in because of how much you wanted to see the whales.”

She laughed. “I also remember coming home and Mom yelling at the both of us because we were drenched.”

He laughed as well. “That too. Your mother and Renata have dessert ready.”

She nodded before placing the picture back on his desk and walking out of his office, knowing in the back of her mind, there were so many unanswered questions she had.

The Next Day

“I searched through everything.” Serena explained as she stood before Fury. “I couldn’t find anything.”

Fury leaned back in his desk chair, deep in thought.

“Are you mad at me?” She hesitantly asked.

He shook his head. “No. Not even in the slightest. However, this makes me believe that potentially he encrypted them.”

“What do you want me to do?” She asked.

“Nothing now. Continue with the assignment. Don’t go into your father’s office again.” He instructed and she nodded.

She immediately walked out of his office, and sighed as she walked down the quiet corridor, the only sound being her 6-inch black heels clacking down as she walked. Since she was Assistant Deputy Director, she had to stop wearing casual clothes to come in, and now had to wear the uncomfortable business casual, so that meant dresses and suits (today though, was a dark grey sleeveless dress). Once she was on the elevator, she hit the floor for her office, and as soon as she was back in her office, she turned the lights off, she kicked off her heels and laid down on the couch she had. She didn’t sleep at all, as she didn’t know what Fury’s reaction would be. She had no meetings today, so she figured sleep would be the best thing to do. She must’ve fallen asleep quickly because the next thing she remembered was someone calling her.

“Ser. Ser. Serena?” A familiar voice said.

Serena slowly opened her eyes to see a very blurry version of Steve standing before her. She blinked quickly so that his figure would become clearer.

“Hey, how’d the mission go?” She said biting back a yawn as she slowly sat up.

“It went well.” He explained. “Rumlow got injured, but everything else went as planned…it wasn’t the same without you though.”

“As you can see, I’m living my best life being parked behind a desk.” She smirked as she stood up. “So many papers…it gets so violent at times.”

“Oh, I bet.” He said with a small smile.

“I have to fight off so many paper cuts.” She said with a laugh before biting back another yawn.

“Are you that tired?” He asked. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

She shook her head. “No that’s not necessary…I-I can drive myself.”

“You have dark circles under your eyes.” He explained. “I’ll drive you home. It’s no bother, really.”

She sighed, knowing she wouldn’t win before nodding tiredly. “Ok.”

He grabbed her bag as she lazily put her heels back on. He then helped her put on her coat on before guiding her out of her office. Once they were in the elevator, she handed him her car keys as she leaned her head back against the elevator wall. Just as Steve was about to say something to her, the elevator dinged and in walked Natasha.

“Rogers, thought you would’ve gone home by now…oh hey Pierce.” Natasha said warmly as she had taken a fond liking to Serena and vice versa.

“Hi Nat.” Serena mumbled with her eyes closed.

“Is she ok?” Natasha asked looking over Serena’s tired look.

“I found her sleeping in her office. I’m going to drive her home.” Steve explained.

Natasha smirked. “Really? Does she know that?”

Serena nodded weakly, still not opening her eyes. As soon as the elevator door opened Natasha was off.

“Have fun.” She smirked making Steve roll his eyes.

Serena was too tired to notice Natasha’s comment and was silent as she walked off the elevator with Steve. The entire car-ride home, Serena slept. Steve didn’t bother to wake her, as he knew she had a lot on her plate. So, she didn’t have to do stairs, Steve picked her up and carried up the stairs.

“Why’re you carrying me?” She tiredly asked.

“You could barely walk in a straight-line walking to the car.” Steve explained as he walked up the stairs. “Figured this be easier than you trying to drag yourself up the stairs.”

She lazily nodded before dozing off again.

He carefully opened the door to her apartment without waking the girl, and Molly, who had been sleeping in her bed, automatically jumped up upon seeing Steve.

“Good to see you too, Molly.” He said quietly as he carried Serena to her bedroom, with Molly following closely behind him.

Steve carefully took off her shoes and placed her under the blankets in her bed before he quietly closed the door, making sure not to wake her. Steve, being the kind-hearted person he was, decided to sleep on Serena’s couch, knowing in the back of his mind, it was the right thing to do, and she wouldn’t mind. He cared about her quite a bit, and if she had an issue during the night, he could be there to help her handle it.

She must’ve slept through the night because the next thing he remembered when he woke up was the sound of Serena’s voice.

“Steve.” She began. “What’re you doing here?”

“I drove your car home.” He began sitting up from the couch. “I wanted to make sure you were alright…so I stayed. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s alright, it’s just when I woke up this morning, I was confused as to why Molly wasn’t in my bed, along with why I was in yesterday’s clothes.”

“She followed me out here.” Steve explained. “And the other thing…”

She laughed. “Alright, I get it. Thank you though…for driving me home.”

He nodded with a small smile. “Of course. I uh, should probably get going.”

She nodded. “Sure. You don’t want Romanoff yelling at you.”

“She won’t yell at me…hopefully.” I said with slight hesitation as he stood up and started walking towards the door.

“See you later Steve.” She said warmly.

“You too.” He smiled as he walked out of her apartment.

3 Weeks Later

“Ok, do you have everything?” Felicita asked as Serena shoved the black duffle bag into her car.

“Yes Mom.” Serena replied. “Do you have everything to take care of Molly?”

Felicita nodded. “Yes, dear, I have everything…I can take care of her. Remember, I love animals.”

Serena smiled. “Of course.”

Serena walked over to her mother who was holding Molly on a leash. Serena knelt and hugged the dog.

“I’ll miss you.” Serena said quietly and the dog licked her face making her laugh.

She then stood back up and hugged her mother.

“I’ll miss you sweetie.” Felicita said in the hug. “You really can’t tell me where you are going?”

Serena shook her head. “It’s classified, Mom. I wish I could.”

She nodded as she pulled out of the hug. “I know. Be careful, please. You’re my only daughter.”

Serena nodded. “I will. I love you mom.”

“I love you too, Serena.” Felicita said warmly.

As she pulled her car away from the curb, she beeped the horn, making her dog bark and her mother wave. She’d miss them…but she had a job to do. Today was the first day she walked into the Triskelion in athletic clothes in a few weeks. So when she walked in wearing black leggings with a black tank top, a dark blue athletic jacket, aviator sunglasses on her head, a high pony tail, and carrying her black duffle bag filled with her clothes, she drew looks from the other agents. They hadn’t seen her this casual in quite a while.

“You heading out?” Hill asked as she walked alongside her, as they walked into to the Quinjet hanger.

“Yep. Can’t wait for it. The middle of nowhere, beats sitting behind a desk all day. Are you heading to New York?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I have a meeting with Coulson, he’s setting up his own stealth ops team.”

“He deserves it, especially after all that he’s been through.” Serena said with a sigh.

“I’m going to miss you Ser…it’s going to be quiet without you.” Hill said with a small smile.

“You have Nat…I’m sure you can talk about something.” Serena smirked as she turned towards the Quinjet she was taking to head to the Lemurian Star.

“Yeah, but she’s going to be here, you are going to be literally in the middle of the fucking ocean.” She began making Serena laugh. “And I am going to be in New York dealing with morons left and right.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” Serena smirked.

“Very true.” Hill replied before giving Serena a hug. “Be careful Ser, don’t do anything crazy.”

“I will, but when have I ever been crazy?” Serena asked with a small smirk, making Maria give her a slight shove.

“Get the fuck out of here, before I literally kill you.” Maria said making Serena flip her off as she walked onto the Quinjet.

Maria watched as the Quinjet carrying Serena and a couple other agents to the Lemurian Star. 10 minutes after the plane was in the sky, Steve came running into the hangar.

“Where is she?” He asked Maria. “Is she gone yet?”

“You wanted her gone that bad?” Maria said in disbelief.

“I wanted to ask her something and to say goodbye before she left.” Steve explained.

Maria sighed. “You’re too late, Quinjet took off about 15 minutes ago.”

“Where’s it heading?” He asked.

“That’s classified.” Maria explained. “Sorry Rogers, you’re out of luck.”

Steve sighed before looking up at the sky, not knowing when she’d return, as he didn’t know when he’d have the chance to finally ask her on a date.

Notes:

As always let me know if you have any questions.
Next chapter is finally Captain America: The Winter Soldier and a lot is going to happen, so stay tuned.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

3 Months Later

Location: Lemurian Star, Indian Ocean

Serena let out a tired sigh, as she continued to type on the computer in her office. Since moving to the middle of the literal ocean, she had found her days repetitive. She’d wake up, run a couple laps around the outer decks, take a shower, eat breakfast, work in her office, having a briefing with the techs, and then spend the rest of her day in her office. She felt bored out of her mind, as she began to realize that maybe being Assistant Deputy Director, wasn’t the best job for her…but on the other hand, she had been collecting SHIELD data for the last 3 months for Fury. In other words, she had been doing the job Fury asked her to do perfectly, and without error.

Just as she was about to clock out for the night and get some sleep, Sitwell busted into her office.

“This better be good Sitwell, I was going to head to bed.” Serena began.

“Boss, we have a problem.” He explained making Serena look up from her computer.

“What?” She said in annoyance.

“There is an unknown vessel docked alongside us.” Sitwell began. “What’re your orders?”

Serena sighed. This was it. The beginning of the plan Fury set in motion. She knew in the back of her mind that Fury had send some sign to prepare her for being extracted…she just didn’t know it’d be so soon.

“Standard protocol says prepare to be boarded.” Serena explained getting up from her desk before putting her hair into a ponytail. “Alert the rest.”

Sitwell nodded before walking out of her office. Serena sighed as she put her heels back on and grabbed her Glock out of the bottom desk drawer. She was wearing a pair of black dress pants with a blue long-sleeved shirt, so she was able to hide the gun discreetly in the back of her pants, so if she did get taken, she could fight off the attackers. That’s when Sitwell’s voice came over the speakers.

“Attention! We are being approached by an unmarked vessel. Prepare for boarding. Code Red. All non-essential personnel report to beta.”

Serena sighed knowing this was it. She closed her laptop and put it away, knowing in the back of her mind that Natasha would be able to get the information she collected. She knew she didn’t have to seek out the attackers to become a hostage, they’d find out sooner or later who she was, and or what her position was…therefore leading them to seek her out. It was one of her many talents, that earned her the codename: Viper.

She glanced at the clock on the wall waiting for the pirates to come into her office, and 15 minutes later, 3 armed men, with riffles entered her office. Serena sat back in her desk chair and crossed her right leg over her left.

“Wow, it took you fifteen minutes to find me.” She mocked. “Did you morons get lost?”

They said nothing to her but forcefully grabbed her and dragged her to the galley with a riffle pressing against the back of her head. She quickly got a flashback to when she was in Bogotá, but she quickly shook it out of her mind when she was met with the rest of the team, all zip-tied on the floor, and the man who was leading the operation. Serena knew who it was. Georges Batroc, a highly wanted man on Interpol’s Red Notice…Fury picked a decent guy to carry out the job.

“Qui est-ce? (who is this?)” Batroc asked.

“Serena Pierce, directrice adjointe adjointe. Fille du secrétaire Alexander Pierce du Conseil de sécurité mondial. (Assistant Deputy Director Serena Pierce. Daughter of Secretary Alexander Pierce of the World Security Council)” One of the men holding Serena explained.

Batroc smirked as he walked closer to Serena, who was very calm.

“Peut-être devrions-nous d'abord l'exécuter et l'envoyer à son père. Nous obtiendrons la rançon plus rapidement. (Maybe we should execute her first and send it to her father. We’ll get the ransom faster.)” The pirate holding the rifle to the back of her head explained.

“Aucune execution. (No executions).” Batroc explained as he stood in front of Serena. “Ce serait dommage de tuer un si joli visage (It’d be a shame to kill such a pretty face.)”

Serena stood emotionless and calm before Batroc. “Ce serait dommage de tuer un être aussi inutile. (It’d be a shame to kill such a useless being.)” She taunted before being shoved to the ground by Batroc’s men.

“Whatever you want, it’s not going to happen. SHEILD does not do negotiations, and it never will.” Sitwell explained from his position.

“Jasper, shut up.” Serena said with a glare as they zip-tied her legs and wrists, before sitting her down next to Sitwell.

As Batroc walked out of the room, Serena glared at Sitwell.

“Sorry boss.” He said.

She shrugged. “Now we wait.”

Meanwhile

“Target is a mobile satellite launch platform, the Lemurian Star.” Rumlow began as he clicked through the images on the screen. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them 93 minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“Billion and a half.” Rumlow replied.

“Why so steep?”

Rumlow shrugged. “Because it’s SHIELD’s.”

Steve frowned. “So, it’s not off course. It’s trespassing.”

Natasha shrugged. “I’m sure they have a good reason.”

Steve groaned. “You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.”

She sighed. “Relax it’s not that complicated.”

He sighed before turning back to Rumlow. “How many pirates?”

Rumlow tapped the screen. “25. Top mercs led by this guy, Georges Batroc. Ex-DSGE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. He’s got a rep for maximum causalities.”

Steve nodded. “Hostages?”

Rumlow nodded. “Uh, mostly techs. Two officers, Jasper Sitwell.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” Steve asked.

“And one of our own.” Rumlow said with a frown making Steve look at the screen in confusion before the picture he didn’t not want to see pop up on the screen making his eyes go wide in shock. “Serena Pierce, former member of STRIKE, now Assistant Deputy Director.”

Steve felt a pit in his stomach. For the first time in a long time, he was worried about an assignment, because of one of the hostages in the situation. The hostage who created a special to-do list with him to help educate him on pop-culture, the hostage who took him to his first Capital’s game a couple of months ago, the hostage he wanted to go on a date with. He felt like the world was spinning and ending, more so ending more than spinning.

“Cap?” Natasha asked snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Alright.” Steve began with a sigh. “I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, find the hostages, get them to the life pods, and get them out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow instructed.

“Secure channel 7.” Steve spoke into his wrist.

“7 secure.” Natasha replied. “You have no need to worry about Pierce, she’s a big girl…she can handle herself.”

“I’m not worried about Pierce.” Steve explained playing off his growing worry for Serena.

“Really?” Natasha playfully asked. “Is that why your eyes practically popped out of your head when she appeared on the screen? You looked like you were going to cry.”

Steve hit the release button for the boarding ramp. “I’m not going to cry.”

“You know, if you ask her out, she’d probably say yes.” Natasha explained.

“That’s why I’m not going to ask.” He replied as he put his helmet on and started walking down the ramp.

“To shy, or too scared?” She teased.

“Too busy!” He said as he jumped off the ramp.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins asked.

Rumlow shook his head in amusement. “No, no he wasn’t.”

Meanwhile

“Boss, what do we do?” Sitwell whispered to Serena, trying to not draw attention to them.

Serena sighed She looked to the door and looked around the room.

‘Three guards here, 1 outside.’ She thought.

“Here’s what we are going to do, we are going to devise a plan to get all of us out of here alive. Thankfully, I know how to get my hands out of zip-ties without using a knife.” She began.

“Are your…” Sitwell began.

“Yes, my hands are free, along with my feet. You are going to fake an illness which will distract them, while I take them out. Do you understand me?” She asked sternly.

“Clear.” Sitwell explained.

They waited for a few moments before Sitwell started to roughly cough, which caught the guard’s attention.

“You better check him out!” Serena said gesturing to Sitwell, who was still coughing.

“Tu veux une balle dans la tête? (Do you want a bullet in your head?” The guard asked as he bent down in front of the two of them.

The only thing the guard didn’t realize, was that he bent down low enough for Serena to kick him in the face. This sent him flying back and caused the other two guards to come around. Just before they could reach her, she aimed her Glock and fired two shots hitting both guards. And as soon as the guard that was standing by the door came in, she shot him along with the guy she kicked down.

“I told you; SHIELD doesn’t do negotiations.” Sitwell explained to the now dead guards as Serena untied his hands.

“I trust that you can handle your feet and everyone else?” She asked as she put her gun back in the back of her pants.

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Get the life pods, I’ll meet you there.” She explained as she started to walk out of the room.

“Where’re you going?” Sitwell called out to her.

“To kill Batroc!” She exclaimed as she ran out of the room.

She wasn’t going after Batroc, she was going after the hard drive that she kept inside of her desk. She started running through the ship and began to dodge dead body after dead body realizing one thing, STRIKE was there. Just as she made it to her office, she realized the door was open indicating that someone was in there. As she rounded the corner with her gun aimed and ready to fire, she realized it was Natasha searching through her desk.

“Stand down.” Natasha said aiming her own guns at Serena.

“You are first.” Serena said with slight frustration making both girls put their weapons away.

“Where is it?” Natasha asked.

“Bottom left drawer.” She explained. “Plug in is in the office upstairs. It should be clear.”

Natasha grabbed the hard drive from the desk, and both started to walk back down the hall.

“He’s worried about you, you know.” Natasha began. “He was practically flipping out on the way here.”

“Who?” Serena asked in confusion.

“Rogers.” Natasha replied. “He’s worried sick about you. When he found out you were here, I swear he turned a shade of grey I didn’t even think was possible.”

Serena laughed. “I’m glad he’s worried but there’s no need…good luck upstairs.”

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked.

Serena shrugged. “To find Steve I guess and prove to him that I’m not dead…yet.”

Natasha laughed as they broke off, each going their separate direction. Serena began to lazily wonder down the corridors, but still had her gun aimed, in case she encountered anyone. The only thing she didn’t have, was someone watching her back. Just as she was about to round a corridor, she felt the click of a gun to the back of her head.

“Tu viens avec moi. (You’re coming with me.)” Batroc said from behind her, and Serena slowly dropped her gun, put her hands up in surrender and started to walk back down the corridor with Batroc roughly guiding her. She knew in the back of her mind that Batroc was too fast for her to counterattack. She’d read his file; he was good at his job. Too good.

Just as they came to an open area, he forcefully pushed her against a wall and aimed a knife at her throat. His body was stronger than hers, so he was able to keep her back pressed up against the wall, with her throat in a choke hold, and with a knife to it.

Serena yelped and the grip he had on her neck tightened.

“Votre père vous recevra dans un sac mortuaire. (Your father will receive you in a body bag).” He taunted making Serena groan in pain, due to the lack of oxygen.

“Let her go!” A familiar voice said making Serena slowly turn her head to see Steve in the corner of her eye.

“St-eve.” Serena croaked. “G-go.”

“I won’t leave you, Serena.” He said gripping tighter on his shield. “Leave her out of this…this is between you and me.”

Batroc smirked as he let Serena go and Steve nodded at her as she headed back to the office portion of the ship to look for Natasha. She broke out into a sprint (or as fast as she could in heels) and jogged up the stairs and into the offices to see Natasha hacking into the system.

“You go, I go this.” Serena said roughly as she touched her throat.

“You ok?” Natasha asked.

“Batroc put me in a choke hold…I’m fine.” She explained. “Go get the hostages to the pods, I know what to download.”

“You sure?” She asked and Serena nodded.

As soon as Natasha left, Serena continued to download the files to the hard drive. Just before she could finish, Steve busted through the door with Batroc, who he immediately knocked out cold.

“Long time, no see.” Serena joked from her position behind the console.

“Are you alright?” He asked, now helmet free.

She shrugged. “Probably going to have a sore throat for a few days.”

“What’re you doing in here?” He asked.

She didn’t reply as she was too focused on completing her mission.

“You’re saving SHIELD Intel.” He said in disbelief.

“Whatever I collected and can get my hands on.” She explained.

“My mission was to rescue hostages…you’re one of them.” He began.

She shrugged as she pulled the hard-drive out of the console. “Not really…more like just here at a convenient time. And you did your mission beautifully.”

Steve grabbed her by the arm. “You just jeopardized my whole operation.”

“How?” Serena asked nonchalantly.

Just as she said this, Batroc awoke and threw a grenade at the two of them, making them both jump through the window, into the other set of offices to avoid the blast. As soon as they recovered, now both covered with lacerations and dust from the explosion, she turned to Steve.

“Fine…I jeopardized your whole operation.” She said with a groan in pain.

“You damn right you did.” He said with anger as he stood up and started to walk out. Serena sighed in frustration knowing in the back of her mind that he was furious at her…but she did what Fury asked, she completed her mission.

Once they were back at the Triskelion, the doctor performed tests on all of them, to ensure that no one was injured. Serena was sitting on her bed in the med-bay when Steve finally walked over to her, as he hadn’t said anything to her since they were on the Lemurian Star. She was still wearing her ash and soot covered outfit from earlier. The only difference was that she now had a small cut on her face, and on her forehead.

“You ok?” he asked as he took a seat beside her bed, still in his uniform.

She nodded. “A couple scratches here and there, but I should be ok…I’m sorry Batroc got away.”

“I’m not mad at you…I’m mad at Fury.” He explained. “Why were you there? Were you there the whole time you’ve been gone?”

She nodded again. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. It was classified.”

He sighed. “Sometimes, Fury drives me up a wall.”

“You should talk to him about it.” She said with a small sigh.

“I am, after I talk to you.” He said grabbing one of her hands. “Before you left, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” She asked with a small sigh.

“I was wondering if-“ He began.

“Serena!” A voice called making Steve stop in his tracks.

Serena turned her head towards where the voice was coming from.

“Mom.” She said tiredly.

Steve saw the brunette woman practically run up to them and engulf Serena in a hug, before kissing the top of her head.

“I was so worried about you! I’m so happy you’re ok!” She exclaimed as she pulled away to look over her daughter.

“I’m fine, mom.” Serena explained with a weak smile before gesturing to Steve. “You have to thank him though…he did all the work.”

Felicita turned towards Steve, and her eyes widened.

“Mom, this is Captain Rogers, Steve this is my mom.” Serena said with a small smile.

Felicita held out her hand. “Felicita de Fontaine.”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve said as he shook her hand.

“Thank you for saving my daughter.” She said warmly before pulling Steve into a hug.

Steve looked at Serena who stifled a laugh as they pulled away.

“Sorry…can we talk later?” She asked.

He nodded. “Deal, I’ll swing by your office.”

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

As Steve walked away, Felicita turned towards Serena.

“What now?” Serena asked.

“The first thing, is that I am going to reem Nick out for placing you in the middle of the fucking ocean!” She began making Serena roll her eyes. “And the second thing, is that he likes you.”

“Mom, we’re just friends.” Serena said with a sigh as she stood up from the medical bed.

“Honey, recognize the signs.” Felicita explained.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Serena groaned as she started walking out of the medical bay. “Fury’s in his office by the way, if you want to give him a piece of your mind.”

“Oh, I will.” Felicita said following her daughter, to tell off the man who placed her in danger once again.

Notes:

We are finally in Captain America: The Winter Soldier!
Let me know if you have any questions.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Present Day

“I just genuinely think we should modify policy with regards to restriction.” Serena explained as she leaned back in her desk chair.

She was currently on a conference call that consisted of top-level SHIELD officials, which included Sitwell, Victoria Hand, and Maria, to discuss a recent cyber-attack conducted via a lower-level SHIELD Agent, who was angered because they couldn’t get clearance for higher level files.

“Policy is not the problem, Pierce.” Hand explained. “The problem is that the lower-level people are not briefed on what they can access, and what they can’t.”

“But again, before getting their new promotion or appointment, shouldn’t we train them on the understanding aspect of it, or at least allow them to understand what they are getting themselves into?” She asked as she crossed her left leg over her right.

“They all should have an understanding of what being part of the intelligence community entails.” Sitwell explained making Serena shake her head in disbelief.

“Suppose they get recruited out of high school…” Serena began.

“They would be placed directly into the SHIELD Academy.’ Hand interrupted. “Whether it would be Communications, Operations, or Science and Technology is based upon the application.”

“But suppose that student doesn’t receive government funding.” Serena began. “Suppose they don’t get offered a position at the SHIELD Academy…and they accidentally cause a leak, but they weren’t trained on how to manage it…then what do you do?”

They all were silent. Serena knew she was right. There needed to be policy for special cases regarding procedure with accessing information…especially to the lower-level agents and workers. There needed to be some form of a course that could allow for them to be trained on when encountering confidential files.

“This is not the CIA, Pierce.” Hand said with a sigh. “Trying to change SHIELD to be like the CIA is not the way to go.”

“I’m not trying to do that.” She countered. “I am saying there should be training done for those who are new to intelligence and or potentially those who are not working directly in an intelligence portion but are part of SHIELD.”

“I agree with Pierce.” Maria said making Serena smile internally. “There should be training for non-essential personnel”

Serena and Maria had been friends prior to Serena joining SHIELD, so when she did join SHIELD, Maria practically ran over to her apartment to celebrate. Hand rolled her eyes and Sitwell let out a frustrated sigh. Going against Fury’s number 1 and number 2 was a tough thing to do…and few came out alive.

“We should end it here.” Maria said with a sigh. “We’ll touch base, same time next week.”

Hand nodded before logging off along with Sitwell. Serena leaned forward at her desk and Maria rolled her eyes. “Your idea should go over well with Fury when you mention it.”

“I know.” Serena replied with a groan as she crossed her arms and leaned back again.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked. “I’m worried about you…I heard what happened.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “He’s mad at me.”

“Who?”

“Steve.” She explained.

Maria smirked. “He’s Steve now?”

Serena glared. “Stop.”

“When you left, he ran into the hangar looking for you…said he wanted to ask you something.” She explained.

Serena nodded. “Yeah, he mentioned that to me today, after I apologized for ruining his mission.”

“How did you ruin his mission?” Maria asked leaning forward.

“I was collecting the info that I had found over my time on the Lemurian Star, when he came into the room in the middle of a fight with Batroc, and he asked why I wasn’t in the life pods, and when I tried to explain in the most discrete way possible that I had a job of my own, Batroc threw a grenade allowing for him to get away.” She said with a sigh and eyeroll. “He was pretty mad.”

Maria sighed. “You did your job and completed your mission, that’s all that matters.”

“At what cost?” Serena asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Maria shook her head. “I’m sure Fury’s briefing him for what Project: INSIGHT is.”

“I hope so.” She mumbled, just as her phone went off, giving her a text from her father to when she’s coming upstairs, as she was supposed to meet with him 10 minutes ago. “I have to go meet my dad.”

“Have fun.” Maria said with a small smile before she logged off.

Serena let out a frustrated sigh as she logged off her computer. She took her hair out of the ponytail she had it in, to allow it to fall to her shoulders. After getting out of her disgusting debris-colored clothes, she had changed into a similar outfit, the only difference was her shirt was now white. Just as she opened her door to exit her office, she was met by Steve.

“Hi.” She said in shock.

“Hi.” He replied in the same tone.

“I’m late.” She said with a frustrated sigh as she walked past him.

“Wait!” He called practically running after her. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not the best.” Serena explained as she flicked her hair off her shoulders, so it cascaded down her back. “Is it that important?”

“Not really…” He trailed off.

“Then tell me later.” She explained with a small smirk noticing he stopped in his tracks.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” He called after her making her stop in her tracks.

She didn’t know what to think, so all she did was turn around on her heel.

“What?” She asked in disbelief.

“I-I wanted to ask you, if you wanted to get dinner…with me…at some point.” He said calmly.

Serena had a small smile on her face that was turning more and more into a smirk as she walked closer.

“Are you asking me on a date?” She said with a sarcastic humor. “No, you must be playing with me.”
Steve rolled his eyes in frustration. “No, I’m asking you to dinner.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s usually what happens when you ask someone out…are you?”

“Am I what?” He asked, playing along with her game.

“Asking me out?” She asked.

“I-I-…yes.” He said after a while.

“Hm.” She nodded before turning around and walking towards the elevator.

“Do I get an answer?” He called after her.

“Maybe.” She said with a laugh before hitting the elevator button.

“Do I get to know now?” He asked.

As the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside and turned around she smiled.

“Text me when, and I’ll be there.” She smiled.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, still not believing the words that came out of her mouth.

“Yes.” She nodded as the elevator doors shut, but before they did, she saw a smile break out onto his face.

As soon as the doors shut, she scanned her badge, and uttered the words:

“World Security Council.”

“Confirmed.” The computer responded as the elevator went up.

Serena started to twiddle her thumbs as she waited for the doors to open. She smiled to herself thinking about her date with Steve…but on the other hand, she was petrified as to what her father would say to her. He knew she was being assigned to the Lemurian Star, as he approved it, but he didn’t know as to why she was there…he didn’t know what she did for Fury…that Fury told her to spy on him…to betray him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, she stepped out and was met with the longest, coldest hallway of all time. As a child. She loved to run down this hallway, especially when her father was in a World Security Council meeting, now, whenever she walked down this hallway, she was either getting reprimanded, and or a new assignment. She calmly walked down the hall and sighed before she knocked on the door to her father’s office.

“Come in.” She heard him say.

She let out a quiet sigh before she entered. He looked up from his desk.

“Sera!” He said warmly. “Welcome home! I’m glad you don’t have extensive injuries this time.”

Serena gently touched the now sutured scratch on her face. “Yeah…me too.”

“Sit please!” He said gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. Serena did as obliged.

“How are you?” He asked. “You seemed shaken.”

She shrugged. “I’m tired, I guess. You lose track of time when you’re in the middle of the ocean.”

He nodded. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…why were you there for so long…surely Fury could’ve sent Hill.”

“Hill was creating Coulson’s team.” She explained. “Surely you can understand that.”

“I understand, sweetheart, I do.” He continued. “I just don’t want a repeat of Ecuador…you were out for so long…and you almost died…I wish Batroc was captured.”

She nodded. “So do I.”

“I’m glad Captain Rogers was there.” He said as he leaned back. “I hear he’s taken a liking to you.”

“Did mom tell you that?” She asked crossing her right leg over her left.

He smiled. “She might’ve alluded to it…he could be good for you…he could keep you grounded.”

Serena sighed. “Is this why you called me up here? To discuss the issue that I need a boyfriend?”

“No.” He replied almost automatically. “I called you here, because I wanted to know if you are going to be here in the Triskelion or on the Helicarrier when we launch?”

She shrugged. “Depends on if I want to work that day.”

He sighed. “Sera, don’t be difficult…I wanted to ask you because I want you here for the World Security Council meeting, they’ve been asking me about you recently…I have a meeting with them in a few minutes actually.”

“Dad, I am not as free as I use to be.” Serena explained. “I don’t work for STRIKE; I work for Fury. I just got off a meeting with Hill that went an hour over schedule…and the reason we scheduled it is because Sitwell and I were on the Lemurian Star. I wish I could be there for the meeting when Project: INSIGHT gets launched, really, I do…but I don’t know what Fury will have me doing.”

He sighed. “I know sweetheart. You just look so tired lately, I’m worried you aren’t getting enough sleep…your mother and I are both worried.”

She smiled. “Dad, I’m fine…though getting taken by Batroc as a hostage reminded me of something.”

“What?” He asked.

“Bogotá.”

His eyes immediately widened. “Are you alright? Do you need to speak with Dr. Yen?”

She shook her head. “No, no, it wasn’t that bad…I just…got triggered by it, when I had a riffle to the back of my head.”

He sighed again. He knew she had trauma from Bogotá…she’s lived with it her entire life, but this is the first time it affected her in a long time.

“Just…let me know if you need to speak to someone, alright?” He asked with concern.

She nodded, knowing he was concerned about her.

He got up from his seat. “I have to go meet with the World Security Council…try and get some sleep, alright?”

She nodded. “Ok.”

Once her father left, she showed herself out. Instead of going back to her office, she decided to head home for the day...or at least drive to her mother’s house to pick up Molly. Just as she was walking to her car, she received a ping on her phone indicating a text message…it was from Steve.

‘Tonight, 7:30, Barcelona…Romanoff said they have good drinks?’

She had a small smile when she typed out:

‘Fine…be warned…I spend big on wine.’

‘I know, she also told me that as well.’ He immediately replied.

‘I’m sure she did…see you then.’ She responded.

Eventually, while she was driving to her parents, house, she received a call from Fury…on a secure line.

“This is Pierce.” She said calmly.

“Good, you’re both here…” Fury explained indicating that Hill was also on the line. “Hill, I need you here in DC…deep shadow conditions.”

Serena’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Give me 4 hours.” Maria replied.

“You have 3.” He explained. “Pierce, be on high alert…only speak on burner phones…Protocol Foxtrot…wait for instructions…do you both understand me?”

“Yes sir.” Hill and Serena both replied.

“Good, you’ll hear from me soon…over.” He responded and ended the call.

Serena’s heart began to beat very quickly…almost like she was going to have another anxiety attack. Protocol Foxtrot was a plan Fury, Hill, and Serena devised if something was going to occur in SHIELD…something sinister…Protocol Foxtrot would occur, which basically would mean that no information came out of the three of them, regarding SHIELD or its assets…and to trust no one. If Protocol Foxtrot is activated, Serena and Maria then essentially become Director and Deputy Director…and once again, share no information with anyone.
Eventually, once she had gotten Molly, from her parent’s home, she quickly placed the dog in the car, and drove as fast as she could to her apartment. No sooner she got the dog into the apartment, she locked the doors and discretely closed the blinds, in case she was being watched. She turned her WIFI router off and grabbed her stash of burner phones. She selected the one that had Foxtrot on the back, turned it on, and essentially waited for instructions.

While she waited though, she decided to take another shower and get ready for her dinner with Steve. She opted for a pair of black leather pants with a light grey sweater as it was rather cold in the evening…completely different from when she was on the Lemurian Star. As soon as she finished pulling her hair back into a ponytail, her burner phone dinged. She practically ran out of her bathroom and a couple texts from an unknown number appeared.

‘EARS EVERYWHERE’

Serena’s heart began to beat faster; she knew who texted from this number.

‘SHIELD COMPROMISED’

Her eyes widened in shock.

‘ACTIVATE PROTOCOL FOXTROT’

A small gasp escaped from Serena’s mouth, and she immediately rushed into her closet. She went into the safe at the bottom of her closet, and grabbed the large Louis Vuitton tote her mother bought her for Christmas the previous. She then kneeled on the ground pulled out her small safe that sat on the floor of her closet, punched in the code, opened it, and grabbed the contents in the safe and placed them into the tote. The contents consisted of $200,000 in various European money, fake government IDs with fake aliases that she used on both CIA and SHIELD missions, and ammunition along with a Glock that she placed in the back of her pants but hid it with her sweater. Just as she got up off the floor, her burner phone began to ring.

She froze in her tracks, and stared at the phone, watching it ring for a few moments before slowly walking over to it. Her heart racing as what could be on the other side.

She slowly picked up the phone and answered it.

“Hello?” She said nonchalantly.

“FOXTROT is down…shooter…initiate Protocol.” Maria said with a monotone.

“Where?” Serena asked, still not believing this is real.

“Walter Reed, how fast can you get there?” She asked.

“Ten minutes.” Serena explained.

“Over.” Maria replied before hanging up.

Serena grabbed the bag she just packed, zipped it, and practically ran out of her apartment to drive to Walter Reed. Sure enough, no sooner than ten minutes later (and potentially 20 speeding tickets later), she arrived at Walter Reed Medical Center and practically ran to the surgical gallery of the OR where Fury’s operation was taking place. As soon as she opened the door, she was met with Maria and Steve.

“They just took him in.” Maria explained removing her phone to her shoulder. “I’m on the phone with New York.”

Serena nodded before turning to Steve who engulfed her into a hug.

“Some date, huh?” She asked quietly and he let out a huff of amusement before pulling out of it.

“You look nice.” He murmured and she gave him a weak smile before turning back to the window to watch Fury being operated on.

10 minutes later, Natasha came running through the same door Serena came in. She was beside herself, and freaking out, watching the scene unfold.

“Is he going to make it?” She asked.

“I don’t know.” Steve sighed.

“Tell me about the shooter.” She begged making Serena turn her head slightly away from Hill to listen to their conversation.

“He’s fast, strong…had a metal arm.” Steve explained making Serena’s eyes widen.

“It can’t be.” She murmured as Hill ended her phone call. She knew in the back of her mind exactly who it was…but the problem was, most of the intelligence community was told he doesn’t exist.

The two of them walked forward to the window.

“Ballistics.” Natasha murmured.

“3 slags, no riffling, completely untraceable.” Maria explained.

“Soviet made.” Serena and Natasha both said in disbelief.

Just as they said this, Fury started to code, making Serena take a calm sigh. She knew what was about to happen…it was in the protocol…she could mentally handle it, but physically witnessing it…she didn’t know. It was then she noticed Sitwell and Rumlow come in.

“Don’t do this to me, Nick.” Natasha murmured.

Serena reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder, knowing in the back of her mind that Fury should’ve let her in on what was occurring too. And within a matter of moments, Fury’s heartrate ceased, thus allowing him to be proclaimed dead by the doctors operating on him. Serena felt a tear come from her eye, and Maria wrapped an arm around her, as she had a tear of her own…they knew what was happening…but they weren’t ready to witness it. Eventually, after they closed the incisions, they allowed for Steve, Natasha, Serena, and Maria to see him. Serena and Maria waited outside room for Natasha and Steve to pay their respects. After a while, Serena and Maria entered the room again.

“They need to take him.” Maria said quietly to Steve.

He walked slowly toward Natasha and murmured something to her. Serena began to stifle her cries making Maria look at her. Serena looked over to her as the tears fell. She’d known him since she was 5, of course this entire situation was going to be mentally and physically hard for her to witness. Just as Natasha walked out, Steve sighed as he started to walk out before he pulled Serena into a hug. As they pulled away from each other he had his hands on her waist.

“You okay?” He asked with concern.

She nodded wiping her tears away.

“I’ll see you later?” He asked and she nodded before he went to follow Natasha.

As soon as Steve left, she turned around to look at Maria who was smirking at her.

“Don’t even.” Serena glared.

“I-I-I just want to make sure that you know what you’re getting into.” Maria explained crossing her arms.

“You are not my mom.” Serena groaned.

“No, but I am like your sister…your older sister.” Maria explained.

“That is true…what’re we waiting on?” Serena asked.

“For STRIKE to clear out.” Maria explained.

“Of course.” Serena said with a nod.

10 minutes later, she saw loads of SHIELD officers walk down the hall. And eventually, the only doctor Fury approved…Doctor Fine walked in.

“Hill, Pierce.” He said warmly.

“Fine.” Both women replied.

He nodded before he started to prep Fury’s body to be moved.

“He better appreciate this.” Serena murmured as Fine moved Fury’s body into a body bag.

“I’m sure he will, but you can ask him yourself when he wakes up.” Hill explained.

“I missed a date for this.” Serena groaned.

“With whom? Rogers?” Hill asked with a small smile.

Serena gave a small smile. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god.” Maria began. “What, were you hoping he’d take you back to his place so you could sleep with him?”

“No!” Serena protested. “We were just going to get dinner.”

“Sure.” Maria snarked with amusement making Serena roll her eyes.

“He’s good to go.” Doctor Fine explained making both snap out of their conversation.

“And so, it begins.” Both replied as they walked out of the room, the only two in the world, knowing the plan that was just set in motion, and what would occur over the next few days.

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Present Day

 

Serena sighed in frustration as she walked into the elevator.

“Level 8 offices.” She said after scanning her badge.

“Confirmed.” The computer replied.

She had been up with Maria all night moving Fury’s body to their safe house, where she would keep an eye on him, along with Doctor Fine. Serena on the other hand had to do all the heavy lifting. In other words, Serena had to make sure no one at SHIELD suspected that Fury was alive. Just as she was about to take out her phone to call Maria, the elevator doors opened to reveal Steve, dressed in his Captain America uniform.

“Hey.” He said calmly as he walked on. “World Security Council.”

“Confirmed.” The computer replied.

Serena frowned. “Why are you going up there?”

He sighed. “Your father wanted to speak to me. I was the last person to see Fury alive.”

Serena huffed in amusement. “You know, you’re supposed to go on a couple dates with a person before you meet the parents…but…I guess you’re doing everything backwards.”

Steve shook his head in amusement. “I guess so…any tips?”

“Make eye contact, stand your ground so he doesn’t walk over you, and please, don’t tell him we’re supposed to go to dinner…at some point.” She explained as the elevator doors opened. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” He called after her as the elevator doors opened.

Serena smiled to herself as she walked to her office. Once she was inside, she closed the door behind her, locked it, and turned on soundproof, as she was going to call Maria.

“This is Hill.” Maria said on the other line.

“Hey, it’s me. How is he?” Serena asked with slight regret in her voice.

“Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, a collapsed lung, and he has another headache.” Maria explained. “Otherwise, he’s his usual self.”

“I’m sure.” Serena hummed. “Listen, no one suspects a thing here, but we have bigger issues.”

“Like?” Maria asked.

“My father asked to speak to Rogers.” Serena explained.

“He’s probably concerned about Fury…”Maria trailed off. “Unless…”

“Unless my dad’s in on it.” Serena explained. “Where’s the hard drive with the information I collected from the Lemurian Star?”

She heard talking in the background before Maria came on the phone again.

“He gave it to Rogers…Rogers had it the last I know of…” Maria trailed off again. “He told him the same thing he told us, to trust no one and SHIELD is compromised."

“Knowing Steve, he wouldn’t have hidden it somewhere with someone he didn’t trust, he hid it in secret most likely.” Serena explained in deep thought as she put her feet on her desk while leaning back in her desk chair. “The only other place he was, was in the hospital…”

Both ends of the phone were silent, until Serena’s eyes widened.

“The hospital!” They both exclaimed at the same time.

“Ser, you’ve gotta get over there as soon as you can…but make it as inconspicuous as you can.” Maria explained.

“Obviously.” Serena remarked. “Keep in touch.”

She hung up the phone before grabbing her bag. She had to leave as quietly as possible, so she wouldn’t be followed and or be killed for what she was about to do.

Meanwhile

“Captain, I’m Alexander Pierce.” Serena’s father began shaking hands with Steve.

“Sir.” Steve nodded. “It’s an honor.”

“The honor’s mine Captain, my father served in the 101^st, come on in.” He replied.

Eventually, Steve was seated on one of the plush chairs in his office as Pierce took off his suit jacket and draped it over a chair. Steve slowly picked up one of the photos on the coffee table, as it was Pierce and Fury shaking hands.

“That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met, when I was at State Department in Bogotá. ELN rebels took the embassy, and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages. Nick was Deputy Chief of the S.H.I.E.L.D. station there, and he comes to me with a plan. He wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said, ‘No, we’ll negotiate’. Turned out, the ELN didn’t negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They stormed the basement, and what do they find? They find it empty.” Pierce explained as he sat down in the chair next to Steve’s.

“Nick had ignored my direct order.” Pierce continued. “And carried out an unauthorized attack on foreign soil, and he saved the lives of a dozen political officers, including my daughter, who was only 5 at the time.”

Steve’s head shot up, finally realizing why Serena didn’t like to talk about Bogotá and the ELN. She was a child when she was taken hostage. That’s why she has trust issues, that’s why she’s not good at the whole friend’s thing, and that’s why she’s hesitant talking about her childhood.

“Your daughter…Serena?” Steve questioned making sure he had the right Pierce.

Pierce smiled. “My wife told me you get along with her quite well, quite gifted, isn’t she?”

Steve gave him a small smile. “Yes sir, she is. We work…we worked well together.”

“I know, I saw the mission reports.” He explained. “Serena isn’t the best with communicating her emotions, as you probably have noticed, so the fact that she works well with someone who isn’t family, is quite remarkable.”

Steve nodded before glancing to the picture of Fury and Pierce. “You gave him a promotion, didn’t you?”

“I’ve never had any cause to regret it.” Pierce continued. “Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?”

Steve sighed and looked to the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Did you know it was bugged?” Pierce asked.

Steve gave him a slow nod. “I did, because Nick told me.”

In the back of his mind, he was furious that his apartment was bugged, because not only did they hear all the conversations he had with other people, but they heard all of the conversations he had with Serena. Every phone call, every visit, every video conference, everything…he was furious.

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?” Pierce asked before turning towards the monitor on the wall. “I want you to see something.”

He pressed a button and a video of Batroc appeared on the screen.

“Is that live?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not-so-safe house in Algiers.” Pierce explained.

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve asked in disbelief. “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line.”

Pierce shook his head. “No, no, it’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the Lemurian Star. And he was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through 17 fictitious accounts. The last one going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.”

He handed Steve the file on the subject.

Steve took the file. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Not likely.” Pierce continued. “Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

“Are you saying Fury hired the pirates?” Steve asked looking up from the file in disbelief. “Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce questioned. “It was that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t believe that Fury would sell classified intelligence, leading him to be killed…he wouldn’t have put all those agents in danger just for a sale…he wouldn’t dare put Serena in danger just to sell intelligence.

“If you really know Nick Fury, you know that’s not true.” Steve explained after a moment of silence.

“Why do you think we’re talking?” Pierce asked before standing up and walking over the window. Steve stood up as well. “See, I took a seat on the Council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to, because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy and the handshaking, and the rhetoric, to build a really better world, sometimes means having to tear the old one down, and that makes enemies.”

Steve took in a breath, having a feeling that Serena’s father was angered at him…and or believed that he was lying about Fury’s death.

“Those people who call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better.” Pierce explained as he walked back to Steve. “And the idea that those people could be happy today, makes me really, really, angry.”

Pierce was quiet for another moment before breaking the silence.

“Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive. I don’t think that’s an accident. And I don’t think you do, either…So I’m gonna ask again, why was he there?” Pierce asked with slight anger in his voice.

“He told me not to trust anyone.” Steve replied, not being imitated by Pierce’s words.

“I wonder if that included him?” Pierce asked.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said firmly. “Those were his last words…excuse me.”

Steve started to walk out of Pierce’s office as he placed his shield back on his back.

“Captain.” Pierce called making him stop in his tracks and turn around. “Somebody murdered my friend, and I’m gonna find out why. If anyone gets in my way, they’re going to regret it…anyone.”

Steve gave him a firm nod. “Understood.” Before he walked out of the office and headed towards the elevator. Rumlow and a few STRIKE team members were also on the floor, but apparently were in other meetings.

“Hey Cap.” Rumlow said. “Operations Control.”

“Confirmed.” The computer said.

He immediately pulled out his phone and called Serena.

“Hello?” Serena answered after two rings, making Steve sigh in relief.

“Hey, I just met with your father…I did what you said, and made eye contact the entire time.”

Serena smiled as she weaved her way in and out of traffic as quickly as she could. “Great. I hope he wasn’t an asshole.”

“He wasn’t.” Steve explained, narrowing his eyes at the STRIKE members who had their hands on their guns. Just then the elevator doors opened again, revealing agents wearing suits and carrying brief cases who stepped onto the elevator as well. Steve ushered himself into the middle of the elevator…making him fall slightly suspicious. What snapped him out of his thoughts was the sound of a car horn on Serena’s end of the phone. “What’re you doing?”

Serena laughed it off, trying to play calm without telling him her location. “Oh, you know, going to lunch with my mom…like I do all the time.”

He could tell that even she was hiding something…but nothing compared to the predicament that he was in, as he noticed Rollins come into the elevator and stand in front of him, making him realize that he was surrounded.

“Ser, I’ve got to go…I may need to take a raincheck on dinner again.” Steve explained.

“Why?” Serena questioned.

“Something came up.” Steve quickly explained. “Talk soon.”

He quickly hung up the phone and put it away. He glanced at the floor, sighed, then immediately stood up straight.

“Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?”

Meanwhile

Serena practically ran into the hospital and jogged onto the floor where Fury originally was held. She began to quickly glance around to see the surroundings before noticing the vending machine. She slowly began to inspect the contents before noticing the small hard drive with the SHIELD logo embedded on it. Thankfully no one took it.

“What’re you doing?” A familiar voice asked.

Serena slowly turned around to look Natasha in the eyes.

“What do you think?” Serena asked. “I don’t know why he gave it to him, but I am going to find out why.”

“So, you can ruin everything?” Natasha asked.

“So, I can fix it…you may want to leave before someone notices you’re here…or at least hide.” Serena explained.

Natasha sighed. “He’s going to come back for it, which is why he hid it.”

Serena smirked as she opened the vending machine door, grabbing two packs of gum and the hard drive. “And I will gladly explain to him who killed Fury, and ask why he had my hard drive in the first place…gum?”

Eventually, just like Serena said, Steve, trying to look inconspicuous walked right up to the vending machine and frowned when he saw no hard drive. Serena then stepped out of the room behind him, and started to blow a bubble with the gum she was chewing. Steve looked at her with a glare present on his face through the glass. She could tell he was pissed. He slowly turned around before roughly shoving her back into the room and against the wall.

“Where is it?” He asked with anger.

“Safe.” She immediately replied.

“Do better.” He taunted.

“Where did you get it?”

“Why would I tell you?” He asked.

“Because I’m the person who collected the data for it.” She taunted back. “Fury gave it to you, why?”

“What’s on it?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” Serena shrugged.

“Stop lying.” He said pushing her further against the wall.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, and you know that. I was on the Lemurian Star to collect information for Fury using that hard drive…and that’s it.” She explained.

He smirked. “But you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?”

“Well, it makes sense.” She explained. “The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

He grabbed her tighter making her flinch in pain.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Steve said with anger.

“I know who killed Fury.” Serena explained making Steve’s grip loosen. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists the one’s that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with a few dozen assassinations in the last 50 years.”

“So, he’s a ghost story?” Steve asked.

Serena sighed. “2 years ago, I was in Baghdad, on an assignment with my team for the CIA, infiltrating a terrorist organization and shutting it down. Our cover was eventually blown, and we almost made it out of the city, before someone shot out my tires, causing the car to flip…I lost my entire team…but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my partner, as we were the only ones alive, so he shot her, right through me.”

She carefully pulled down the neckline of her sweatshirt to show the small scar she had there.

“Soviet slug, no riffling…bye-bye low-cut tops.” She said with a small smile.

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.” Steve said with sarcasm making Serena smirk with amusement.

“Going after him is a dead-end, I know, I’ve tried…so has Romanoff, he shot through her as well…only lower…she can’t wear bikini’s anymore.” She explained before holding up the hard drive. “Like you said, he’s a ghost story.”

Steve carefully took the hard drive from her. “Well, let’s find out what the ghost wants.”

Serena nodded carefully. “I’d appreciate it, if you let go of me.”

Steve stepped away from the girl but kept his right hand on the wall next to her. Serena frowned when she noticed the slight bruising beginning to form on his neck.

“What happened?” She quietly asked gently running her right hand along it.

“Your father tried to kill me…he sent Rumlow, Rollins, all of STRIKE, and a couple officers after me.” He explained.

She frowned and looked at her feet. “I’m sorry.”

Using his free hand, he gently picked her head up to look him in the eyes.

“I’m not mad at you.” He said quietly.

They were inches away from each other…all one of them had to do was lean in. Just as Steve started to, he was interrupted.

“Look, I know this is a bad time, because I know deep down both of you want to fuck each other, but we need to go.” Natasha explained from the doorway making the two of them look at her. “Now.”

Serena nodded as she walked out. “I agree.”

Natasha smiled at Serena as she walked away before turning back to Steve with a smirk.

“I’m proud of you.” She said warmly.

Steve frowned as he walked past her. “Shut up.”

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Present Day

“Slow down, first rule of being on the run, do not run, walk.” Serena explained as she and Steve walked through Pentagon City Mall.

“If I walk any faster, these shoes will fall off.” Steve murmured.

Serena adjusted her black Nike baseball cap. “Calm down, it’s going to be fine. Nat, do you see anything?”

“No, you’re both clear.” Natasha replied over the coms from her position on the third level.

“Copy.” Serena explained.

The reason why the three of them were in the mall was so that they could access the hard drive, and the only way to do that in the most inconspicuous way possible, would be to access it on a computer that wasn’t theirs. In other words, they needed a computer from the Apple Store. As she and Steve walked in, she carefully surveyed the room, making note of anyone suspicious…but thankfully there was none. Once they were at a computer, Serena began to access the drive.

“The drive has a Level 6 Homing Program, so as soon as we boot up SHIELD will know where we are.” Serena explained.

“How much time do we have?” Steve asked looking around.

“Uh…9 minutes.” She explained before plugging the drive in. “Starting now.”

“I’ll keep watch, I’ll let you know if I see anyone.” Natasha explained over the coms.

As the drives began to be accessed, Serena sighed.

“Fury was right about that ship…someone’s trying to hide something.” She murmured. “This drive is protected by some sort of AI. It keeps re-writing itself to counter my commands.”

“Can you override it?” He asked, still looking around to see if they were followed.

Serena sighed and tilted her head slightly. “Well, the person who developed this, is slightly smarter than me…slightly.”

Steve continued looking at the doorway, as Serena continued to type.

“I’m going to try running a Tracer. This is a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so if we can’t read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from.” She explained as a map appeared on the screen beginning to pinpoint the location of origin.

“Do you guys need anything?” One of the Apple workers asked.

Serena flashed her billion-dollar smile, that she used when she was charming politicians and dignitaries…her fake smile.

“On no.’ She explained warmly wrapping an arm around Steve. “My fiancé was just helping me figure out our potential honeymoon destination.”

“Right.” Steve said with an awkward smile and nod. “We’re getting married.”

‘He’s horrible at this.’ Serena said to herself before turning back to the computer.

“Congratulations.” The worker said with a warm smile. “Where’re you guys thinking about going.”

Just as the worker said so, Serena had a soft smirk on the screen as the location of the algorithm’s origin popped up. Steve glanced at the screen.

“New Jersey.” He explained making Serena mentally facepalm her head.

The worker nodded, before staring very closely at Steve, making Steve start to mentally freak out.

“I have those exact same glasses.” The worker explained making Steve nod and sigh in relief.

“Wow, you guys are practically twins.” Serena said with the smallest amount of sarcasm.

“I wish.” The worker said before gesturing to Steve. “Specimen. If you guy’s need anything, I’m Aaron.”

“Thank you.” Steve said warmly.

“Pierce, Cap, Rumlow and STRIKE are here…please tell me you have the location.” Natasha said over the coms.

“You said nine minutes, come on.” Steve said glancing at his watch.

“Shh…relax.” Serena explained continuing to type. “Got it.”

The location then started to zero in on a location in Wheaton, New Jersey.

She turned to Steve. “Do you know it?”

“I used to.” He said with a sigh. “Come on.”

As fast as they could, they walked out of the Apple store with their heads down.

“Standard tag-team two behind, two across, two coming straight at us, if they see us, I’ll engage, you and Romanoff hit the South Escalator to the metro.” He began.

Serena rolled her eyes. “Shut up and put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said.”

He looked at her in shock. “What?”

“Do it.” She commanded.

Steve did as told, and put his arm around Serena’s shoulders, fake laughing at what she said. The STRIKE members walked right past them and didn’t even notice them. Just as they were going down the escalator, they both noticed Rumlow going on the up escalator. Serena was the first to notice. They had two options, either jump off and run, or do the easier option…which Steve might not like. She immediately turned around.

“Kiss me.” She sternly commanded.

“What?” He asked in confusion and shock.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.” She quietly explained.

“Yes, they do.” He nodded.

She rolled her eyes before pulling him in for a kiss. Rumlow, who was oblivious to who the couple was on the other escalator, immediately looked away. After a few seconds Serena pulled away from Steve and started to descend the escalator.

“Still uncomfortable?” She asked smirking to herself.

“It’s not exactly the word I would use.” Steve remarked as he followed her down the stairs.

Within a matter of moments, and easily evading more STRIKE officers, Serena, Steve, and Natasha were able to steal a car and start driving to New Jersey. They were all silent for most of the ride, until Serena sighed in annoyance, upon reading a text from Maria on her burner phone.

“What is it?” Steve asked glancing over to her from the driver’s seat.

“My family’s housekeeper, Renata, was found dead in my parent’s home…and my father has put out a missing person’s report for me.” She explained. “My mother thinks I’m kidnapped.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve said interlocking his right hand with her left.

“Thanks.” Serena said quietly as she stared out the front window.

Natasha who was sitting in the back began to humorously roll her eyes.

“Where did Captain America steal a car?” She asked as she opened one of the windows, to let her feet hang out of it.

Steve sighed. “Nazi, Germany.”

“Mm.” Natasha said noticing how Serena was leaning her head against the window, still deep in thought about what her father had done.

“And we’re not stealing we’re borrowing, close the window and bring your feet back in.” Steve ordered and she did as obliged, but still Natasha decided to lighten the mood and try to get Serena to at last crack a smile.

“I have a question for you.” Natasha began. “Which you do not have to answer. I feel like, if you don’t answer it though, you’re kind of answering it, you know?”

“What?” He asked.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” Natasha asked with a smirk as she looked at Serena who was still in a trance as she watched the scenery go by.

“No, it was not my first kiss since 1945. I’m 95, I’m not dead.” Steve said with an eyeroll.

“Pierce?” Natasha asked, her smirk growing even more.

“Hm?” Serena asked still looking out the window.

“How was it?” She asked, still watching the girl’s expression.

“How was what?” Serena asked still not paying attention.

“The kiss?” Natasha asked which made Serena sit up straighter.

“Natasha.” Steve began, trying to have her lay off the girl sitting next to him, who is dealing with a million emotions hitting her at once.

“Relax, Rogers, I am just asking a general question…considering you tried to kiss her earlier today.” Natasha explained making Serena frown in confusion.

“When was this?” Serena asked in disbelief, even though she knew in the back of her mind he did try to kiss her earlier in the day.

“The hospital…you both looked pretty cozy.” Natasha explained.

“I did not try to kiss her.” Steve began making Serena look at him in a confused manner, before pulling her hand away from his in defiance.

Steve glanced at the girl before gently grabbing her hand again, interlocking it with his.

“Ok, fine, I did try to kiss her.” He explained in which Serena responded with a soft smile.

“I didn’t expect you two to get that close.” Natasha remarked.

“We’re not.” Serena explained. “We’re friends.”

“You both chose the wrong business to be in, if you wanted to be friends.” Natasha said with a sigh ending the conversation for the rest of the trip.

Eventually, Steve pulled the car outside to where the GPS told them the coordinates were. All three of them got out.

“This is it?” Steve asked looking at Serena who was holding her phone up.

She shrugged. “The file came from these coordinates.”

“So did I.” Steve murmured gesturing to the sign on the fence that said ‘Camp Lehigh’.

Once they broke open the fence, they began to wonder the camp, with Serena holding the GPS to try and see where the coordinates would take them.

“Change much?” Natasha asked as she walked next to Serena.

Steve on the other hand was a couple feet away from them, taking in the scenery.

“A little.” Steve replied getting a distant glance at one of the areas of the camp.

“Whoever wrote the file, must’ve used a router to throw people off.” Serena said from a platform up ahead.

“So we hit a dead end?” Natasha asked.

Serena shrugged. “I guess…I don’t know what else to do.”

Steve got a distant look, aiming at one of the buildings behind Serena.

“What is it?” She asked.

Steve said nothing but began walking towards the building. After a while he spoke.

“Army regulation forbids storing ammunition within 500 yards from the barracks.” Steve explained. “That’s an ammunition building.”

Steve opened the door using his shield, and the three of them proceeded down a large staircase when the entered the building. Eventually, they came across a large room, that was filed with desks and chairs, with a familiar sign on the wall.

“This is SHIELD.” Natasha remarked and Serena hummed in agreement.

“Maybe where it started.” Steve said in agreement as they continued to walk through the facility.

They came across a door, leading them to a larger room, with 3 pictures on the wall.

“Howard Stark.” Serena said quietly.

“Who’s the girl?” Natasha asked.

“Margaret Carter.” Serena sighed before glancing at Steve who got a longing look in his eyes but said nothing.

They continued through the facility eventually coming across a large empty bookcase. Steve stopped in front of it.

“What is it?” Serena asked.

“They’re already working in a secret office.” He remarked before pulling back the bookcase revealing an elevator door. “Why do you need to hide the elevator?”

Serena walked forward and noticed that there was an access panel, by using a holographic app she had, she scanned it, so that the elevator panel revealed which buttons she needed to push to access it. Once she had pushed the buttons, the elevator doors opened, allowing for her, Steve, and Natasha, to enter and descend lower into the earth. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Natasha hit the light switch on the wall, revealing a room filled with old computer looking technology, with a large multi-panel computer in the front of the room. Steve gripped his shield tighter, and Serena grabbed the hard drive from her back pocket and placed it into the modern adaptor near the computer. That’s when the computer routers all over the room began to turn, indicating that they were operating. A single message appeared on the screen making the three of them look puzzled for a second.

‘INITIATE SYSTEM?’

Natasha stepped forward and typed: ‘YES’.

She smirked as she did this.

“Shall we play a game?” She playfully asked before remembering Steve was there. She turned around. “It’s from a really old movie that…”

Steve nodded. “I know, I saw it…with her.”

Natasha looked to Serena and shook her head in amusement as Serena shrugged. Steve really did like her a lot.  Just as Natasha turned back to look at the screen, the camera on top of the main screen began to move, as a blurry image of what looked like a face appeared.

“Rogers, Steven, born 1918.” The computer began.

“Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna, born 1984.” The computer continued. “Pierce, Serena Alexandra de Fontaine, born 1989.”

“What the fuck?” Serena asked in disbelief.

“Is this some kind of recording?” Natasha asked agreeing with Serena’s confusion.

“I am no recording fralein. I may not be the man I was when the captain took me prisoner in 1945 but I am him.” The computer replied.

“You know this thing?” Serena asked turning to Steve in disbelief.

Steve grabbed onto his shield even tighter than before and began to walk around behind the computer.
“Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He’s been dead for years.” Steve explained.

“First correction.” The computer began. “I am Swiss. Second, look around you, I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis, science could not save my body, my mind however, that was worth saving. On 200,000 feet of data banks, you are standing in my brain.”

“How did you get here?” Steve asked.

“Invited.”

Natasha sighed. “Operation: Paper Clip. After World War II, SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value.”

“It was so I could help their cause.” Zola continued. “In reality, it was so I could help my own.”

“HYDRA died with the Red Skull.” Steve remarked.

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Zola explained.

“Prove it.” Steve and Serena both said at the same time.

“Accessing archive.” Zola began.

Serena interlocked Steve’s hand with hers, as she knew in the back of her mind, everything Steve tried to accomplish in WWII, was falling down the drain, right before their very eyes. On one of the screens, the image of Johann Schmidt, battalions of HYDRA soldiers with the Nazi flag behind them, appeared on the screen along with videos of Steve during WWII as well.

“HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded, and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew, a beautiful parasite inside S.H.I.E.L.D.”

An image of Zola appeared on the screen with other scientists, but the crimson HYDRA logo appeared on his face.

“For 70 years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war, and when history did not cooperate, history was changed.” A picture of a man with a metal arm, along with a red star appeared before a very grainy photo of a figure with a sniper riffle taking aim appeared as well.

“That’s impossible.” Serena said in disbelief.

“SHIELD would’ve stopped you.” Natasha remarked in agreement.

“Accidents will happen.” Zola coldly countered, allowing for a news headline to appear on the screen that read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, with a black redacted mark covering Howard Stark’s eyes.

Steve let out a shuddered breath, making Serena grip on his hand. He glanced to her, and she glanced to him…the only person able to keep him calm in this situation…the only person who believed in him.

A picture of Nick Fury with the word DECEASSED also appeared on the screen. Making Serena close her eyes, knowing deep down that Fury was in fact alive…and hopefully safe in the hands of Maria.

“HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security.” Various videos began to play showing the modern times, including state of the art satellites, along with red dots that were growing across a world map, before an image of the three Project: INSIGHT Helicarriers were lifting off. “Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA’s new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your life. A zero sum.”

Steve, now overcome with rage, let go of Serena’s hand, and punched the main screen, cracking it upon impact. His hand hurt from striking the screen, but he showed no remorse of pain on his face, due to the anger he had.

“As I was saying.” Zola continued on a different screen.

“What’s on the drive?” Steve demanded to the screen.

“Project: INSIGHT requires insight, so I wrote an algorithm.” Zola explained calmly.

“What kind of algorithm? What does it do?” Natasha asked in anger as she stepped toward the screen.

“The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you will be too dead to hear it.” Zola began closing off the doors to the elevator. Steve threw his shield to try and block it, but it bounced off the doors as they sealed shut.

Serena’s phone went off, and her facial expression became more remorseful than before. “Steve, Nat, we got a bogey. Short-range ballistic. Thirty seconds tops.” She explained with slight fear in her voice.

Steve walked closer to her, noticing the fear in her voice. “Who fired it?”

“SHEILD.” She quivered, her voice cracking when she spoke.

“I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain.” Zola admitted as Serena grabbed the drive before Steve pulled her and Natasha towards a hold in the floor. “Admit it. It’s better this way. We are, both of us, out of time.”

The trio jumped down into the open panel, as the missile struck the facility, consuming the entire world with fire and smoke. A few minutes later, the three of them recovered successfully due to the Vibranium shield, but they all seemed a little shaken…especially Serena.

“We’ve got to go.” Natasha said climbing out of the rubble. She turned around noticing the two still crouched down “Cap, Pierce, come on.”

“I’ll meet you; I’ve got her.” Steve explained. “We’ll meet you at the car…if it’s still around and not destroyed.”

Natasha nodded as she started to head in the direction of the car. Steve turned back to Serena, who was crouched down in the rubble, eyes wide, and not moving.

“Ser, we’ve got to go.” Steve calmly said touching her shoulder making her flinch. “It’s ok, everything’s going to be ok.”

Serena started to shake. “Nothing’s real.” She murmured. “This isn’t real, Steve isn’t real. He’s dead. Just like Max. He’s dead like Max.”

Steve moved to be in front of her. “I’m real, this is real. You are real.”

She continued to shake; she was going catatonic. She didn’t know what to believe.

“Your favorite color is green.” He began calmly. “You have a dog named Molly, your favorite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you skipped fourth grade, you hate playing piano, your birthday is April 19^th, and whenever you’re over in my apartment, you always tend to steal food from my fridge.”

Serena’s eyes were still wide as she looked Steve in the eyes. Green meeting blue. It was in that moment that Steve leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. Nothing seductive about it, but more to reassure her that he was real, and that she was going to be ok. She stopped shaking and wrapped her arms around Steve, holding him close…almost giving Steve the feeling that something like this has happened to her before. He carefully stood up, and then helped her up. She looked broken and defeated, but underneath all of the smoke and ash, was a person Steve cared for…the first person he truly felt in love with since he returned.

Notes:

If you didn't understand Serena's reaction to the explosion, re-read chapter 1, especially the part where Fury rescues her from the ELN, it will allow for a greater understanding of her character.
As always, let me know if you have any questions comments or concerns.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Notes:

As always let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Present Day

A knock at Sam’s door, snapped him out of his thoughts, after he returned from his run. He carefully set down his bottle of orange juice and walked over to the door. He opened the blinds and his eyes widened at the sight on the other side of the screen door. He saw Steve and the redhead he saw pick up Steve to head on a mission look tired and disheveled, along with a brunette who looked dazed and spaced out. All three were covered in ash and soot.

“Hey man.” Sam said casually.

“I’m sorry about this.” Steve began. “But we need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us.” Natasha explained.

Serena remained silent.

“Not everyone.” Sam said ushering the trio inside and closing the blinds behind them.

Sam showed Serena and Natasha to one of his spare bedrooms, along with Steve in another one. After Natasha had showered, Serena decided to shower as well. She felt disgusted, with everything she was wearing, along with her overall mental thoughts as well.

After Steve showered in one of the other bathrooms, he walked into the bedroom to see Natasha sitting on it, zoning out.

“You alright?” He asked as he sat down across from her.

She nodded. “I thought I was doing the right thing when I joined SHIELD…now I just think I traded the KGB for HYDRA.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.” Steve explained.

“I know.” She said with a nod before gesturing to the bathroom. “I’m worried about her.”

Steve glanced at the floor. “So am I.”

“Do you want me to check on her?” Natasha asked standing up and Steve gave a small nod.

Natasha walked to the door and softly knocked a couple of times.

“Serena? Are you ok?” Natasha asked softly.

No answer.

Natasha knocked again.

“Ser, it’s ok, it’s just Steve and I.” Natasha explained.

Still, no answer.

Natasha sighed. “I don’t think she wants to talk.”

Steve sighed. “I know…she’s going through a lot.”

“I made breakfast.” Sam said as he came into the room. “If you guys eat that sort of thing.”

Little did they know that Serena, was sitting on the floor of the shower, letting the water run over her, with her knees pulled close. She stared at the wall, letting the past events flood her mind.

Fury.

SHIELD.

HYDRA.

Renata.

Her father.

She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t think she was made out for this, and all she wanted was to drown in her misery. After a while, she knew she had to face those outside the door, so after she cleaned herself, and changed into a spare sports bra and leggings, puller her wet hair back into a sleek high ponytail and opened the door. Thankfully no one was there. She carefully treaded down the stairs, but as soon as she came halfway down the stairs, all the talking she heard ceased. A slight frown formed on her face as she made it to the foot of the stairs. 3 sets of eyes were on her…all looking concerned.

“You must be Serena.” The unfamiliar man said warmly with a wave and a small smile. “I’m Sam.”

“Hi.” She said quietly as she walked into the kitchen.

“I made breakfast.” Sam said, trying to get a smile out of the girl.

She shook her head slightly. “I’m not hungry.”

 She leaned against the doorway and looked down at her feet. Steve looked to her with worried brows, wanting her to look him in the eye, but all she remained focused on was the floor beneath her.

“We were talking about what our next steps are.” Steve said calmly, trying not to cause another anxiety attack like the girl had in the bunker.

Serena didn’t even nod. She was silent and had a blank stare on her face as she looked forward. Steve knew she was going catatonic…she was withdrawing from all social interactions. Natasha and Sam both noticed how Steve looked at Serena…with the utmost admiration, concern, and love, which made both shift in their seats awkwardly.

“If you change your mind for food, let me know.” Sam’s kind voice broke the silence.

Serena still didn’t budge. She felt numb, empty, blind…she didn’t know what to believe what was real or fake anymore…everyone she loved and trusted had lied to her.

“As I was saying.” Natasha began clearing her throat, to draw the tension away from Serena. “Who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?”

Serena knew exactly who had the authority to do it, but she wouldn’t say the name. She couldn’t. The name she thought of saying was the name of the same man who taught her how to ride a bike, read her bedtime stories, scare the monsters out of her closet, taught her how to drive a car and a boat, was right next to her mother during every ballet recital, was ringside at every horse show, shouted the loudest during her High School and CIA Academy graduations. Now, the name of the man with whom she shares a name with, is no longer her father, but more so the man who manipulated her for her entire life.

“Pierce.” Steve added glancing at Serena to make sure he didn’t agitate her.

Serena still had a blank look. He noticed how tired she looked. Her eyes were beginning to develop dark circles, but still looked straight ahead at the table without removing from it.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world.” Natasha added as she crossed her arms.

Steve frowned in thought. “But he’s not working alone. Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

“So was Serena.” Natasha said glancing to the brunette. “But she was gathering intel for Fury, so who would be working for…Jasper Sitwell.”

Steve leaned back in his seat. “So, the real question is how do two of the most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?”

“What about her?” Sam asked gesturing to Serena. “She’s not a wanted criminal?”

“Her father thinks we kidnapped her.” Natasha whispered.

Sam shook his head in disbelief before slapping a file on the table.

“What’s this?” Steve asked leaning forward.

“Call it a resume.” Sam sternly replied.

Serena slowly picked her head up and watched Steve and Natasha gather around the file.

“Is this Bahkmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?” Natasha said in disbelief before turning to Steve. “You didn’t say he was a pararescue.”

“Is this Riley?” Steve softly asked.

“Yeah.” Sam murmured.

From where she was standing, she noticed Steve’s sympathetic expression towards Sam…something horrible and tragic must’ve happened. Steve’s honesty showed brightly threw his blue eyes that has become so utterly familiar to her…in some ways it brought her comfort, even if he glanced at her. Right now, however, the only comfort she longed for, was her own.

“I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs.” Natasha continued. “What did you use? A stealth chute?”

Sam shook his head. “No, these.”

Steve looked at the file, eyes widening in shock, before he looked up in surprise at Sam. “I thought you said you were a pilot.”

Sam let out a small chuckle. “I never said pilot.”

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason.” Steve began.

“Dude, Captain America needs my help.” Sam immediately replied. “There’s no better reason to get back in.”

Serena cracked a small smile. Based upon this small interaction, she liked Sam.

“Where can we get our hands on one of these?” Steve asked.

“The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.” Sam explained.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Natasha shrugged. “We should start heading out…get this thing started…the faster we interrogate Sitwell, the faster we stop Pierce.”

At that point Serena, let out a dark hysterical laugh. The three of them turned to look at her as she laughed. Steve’s eyes were filled with concern. He’d never seen her like this…he never saw her act like the way she did in the bunker, but then again, today was a day full of firsts. Natasha and Sam looked confused. The girl stopped laughing and tried to control her breathing.

“The faster we stop Pierce?” She asked darkly. “Or the faster we kill Pierce?”

“Serena.” Natasha began, realizing how the girl interpreted what she said. “That’s not-“

“That’s not what?” Serena asked with anger. “Not what you meant? Or that’s exactly what you meant. Or actually…did you mean me?”

“Ser…” Steve began.

“No!” She began, anger and fury present in her eyes. “That’s exactly what you meant! Kill my father first, and then kill me, because I’m HYDRA too, right? Then so is my mother, and my aunt, fuck, maybe even my dog is HYDRA too! We’re all just a big fucking mess that are ruining everything for every single fucking person.”

All of them were silent. She finally snapped.

“Call me when you’re ready to kill my father…so then you can kill me too.” She coldly stated as she practically ran up the stairs.

Sam winced when he heard her slam the door shut, making Steve close his eyes and sigh.

“Steve do you…” Natasha began.

Steve held a hand up. “Stay here, I’ll talk to her.”

“Cap, I wouldn’t…” Sam began.

Natasha put a hand up. “Relax, they’re practically dating.”

“Not yet.” Steve murmured as he climbed the stairs.

As Steve approached the door, he stopped in his tracks and hesitated to knock. He felt his heart ache as he heard her muffled cries from the other side of the door, she was broken. Gone was his strong and independent partner, and in her place was a broken and manipulated girl, not knowing what is real or fake anymore. Steve gently knocked.

“It’s Steve.” He quietly said.

After a few moments. The doorknob twisted and Serena peaked her head around the door with reddened eyes. Her once lively green eyes were replaced with sorrow and fear. Steve’s face was filled with concern, he didn’t disapprove of her, or saw her as weak, he cared deeply for her.

“Hey.” He said after a while.

“Hi.” She quietly replied.

“Do you want to talk about what’s going on?” He cautiously asked, not wanting to startle her.

She slowly nodded and opened the door wide enough for him to enter the room. He sat down on the couch and let out a small sigh, when he saw her tear-stained cheeks as she sat down next to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, turning to face her.

She shrugged looking straight ahead of her. He knew not to pry, but looking at how quiet she was, plus of how red her eyes were, he couldn’t help but be concerned.

“I was 5 years old.” She began.

Making Steve frown in confusion.

“My parents were stationed in Bogotá, Colombia, as my father worked for the State Department there, and my mother was working for the Agency there as well.” She continued.

That’s when it hit Steve. She was finally going to tell him about what happened when she was a kid. He was finally going to tell him what happened in Colombia.

She let out a sigh, trying to hold back the tears that were starting to form once again. Steve interlaced her left hand with his right.

“It’s ok.” Steve said.

“When the rebels took over the embassy, they came into my father’s office and killed my bodyguard in front of me. I could’ve saved him, I could’ve…I could’ve prevented it…I could’ve taken the bullet…then maybe he’d be alive, married with a couple of kids…but then again, what 5-year-old would think about taking a bullet for someone?” She said quietly as she finally turned to look him in the eye.

“If you did that, then you’d be dead.” Steve began. “And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

She shrugged. “You wouldn’t have known I existed.”

“I’m not talking about if you died back then…I’m talking about if you died now.” Steve explained. “When that explosion happened, all I could think about was if you were ok. When I found out you were on the Lemurian Star, all I could think about was if you were ok. When you got glass into your shoulder, all I could think about was if you were ok.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” Serena murmured.

“I do need to worry about you.” He continued. “I-I.”

‘I love you.’ Steve thought to himself but didn’t say it out loud, as he didn’t want to scare her off.

She sighed again before turning her head to finally look Steve in the eyes. “My entire life, every single person I thought I could trust, has manipulated me in some sort of way, and now I realize that everything I grew up with, was a lie. I don’t trust a word that comes out of my father’s mouth now.”

“Do you trust me?” He asked with a small smile.

“You seem pretty happy for the person who thought they destroyed a Nazi Death Cult.” She said with a small smile.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Steve said giving her a small smile.

“Why do you care…about…” She trailed off.

“About?” He frowned in question.

“Me.” She said after a sigh.

‘I love you.’ Steve thought again but didn’t say it.

Steve let out a sigh. “We’re in this together Ser. If we don’t look out for each other, we won’t be able to figure this out.”

“This meaning the mission?” She began. “Or this meaning…us?”

“Us.” He immediately replied. “You are the only person, who sees me for me. You don’t see me as Captain America, you see me as Steve Rogers…and you accepted me that way. You see me as a human being, not as some oddity.”

Serena smiled. “You’re not some oddity…not to me. You’re human. Humans make mistakes, you’re stubborn, you’re reckless, you’re never careful…”

Steve let out a laugh before leaning closer to her. “Are you trying to call me out?”

She leaned closer to him and started laughing. “My point is…I know you try to save everyone Steve, but sometimes, not everyone can be saved…even though you’ll try.”

Steve looked at her with the most admiration he ever felt in a person. She was intelligent, beautiful, slightly impulsive, and hotheaded at times, but Steve knew how to calm her down…something other people in her life couldn’t do. That’s when he realized that they were inches from each other, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes…emerald, green meeting ocean blue. Steve finally did what he thought he couldn’t do.

He closed the gap between them. The kiss was slow, tender, and passionate…something neither of them had become used to in recent times, but neither complained. For the first time in both of their lives, they felt safe. They completely forgot about the trouble of the outside world, and just focused on each other.

When they finally pulled away from each other, they placed their foreheads together. Both were silent, and just basking in each other’s embrace.

“How much courage did it take for you to do that?” Serena asked with a small smile, opening her eyes and moving her head away from him so she could look him in the eyes.

He let out a small laugh and looked down. “A lot.”

She laughed before kissing him again on the cheek. She stood up off the couch and started walking toward the door.

“Come on, I have an idea on how to get Sam’s gear.” She explained before turning back to look at him.

“By the way, she continued, for a 95-year-old, you’re not a bad kisser.” She winked before she opened the door and headed down the stairs leaving Steve shellshocked.

Steve immediately got off the couch and followed her down the stairs, meeting her, Natasha, and Sam in the kitchen.

“What’s your idea?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, what’s your idea?” Sam asked leaning forward slightly intrigued by Serena’s idea.

Serena crossed her arms. “Fort Meade may be protected, but I might be able to get your gear out without having to climb over a wall.”
“How?” Natasha asked.

“I still have some pull at the CIA.” Serena explained with a smile.

“Ser, we can’t do that.” Steve began placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll compromise our location.”

Serena smirked. “No, it won’t…because if she has the chance to go against my father she’ll 100% do it…she never liked him.”

“Who?” Natasha asked.

Serena pulled out her burner phone and dialed a number before placing it on speaker.

“Hello?” The voice on the phone asked, unaware who it was.

“Aunt Val, it’s Serena.” She began with a gleam and smirk in her eyes. “I need you to get something for me.”

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Notes:

As always, let me know if you want to see anything specific, and if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Present Day

Serena groaned in annoyance and rolled her eyes (though they couldn’t be seen behind her aviator sunglasses) as she paced outside of Sam’s car, waiting for her aunt to show up. They were on a back road near Fort Meade that only a few people knew about due to how secluded it was.

“She looks mad.” Sam remarked from the driver’s seat.

“She’s not mad…she’s frustrated.” Steve said with a sigh from the backseat.

“I get that…for a girl whose world is literally lighting up in flames around her, she’s taking it well.” Sam said with a nod.

“She doesn’t express her feelings that well. She has trust issues.” Steve explained. “Hence why she’s slightly closed off.”

“Not to you.” Natasha smirked.

“That’s not true.” Steve immediately replied. “She’s like that with Hill as well.”

“She and Hill have been friends since they were kids. You’ve only known her for less than half a year.” Natasha explained. “You like her, and she likes you.”

Steve groaned in annoyance. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Suit yourself.” She replied before poking her head out the window. “How long?”

Serena turned and shrugged. “She likes to make an entrance.”

“So…does that mean 10 minutes or 10 hours?” Sam asked.

Serena was about to snap at San until she saw a black Lexus pull up.

Serena gestured for Natasha, and Steve to get out of the car, and they did…Sam did as well.

“So, who is this lady?” Sam asked.

Serena sighed. “My aunt.”

Steve cautiously eyed the woman who stepped out of the Lexus across from them. She was tall, like Serena in height, with dark hair (darker than Serena’s and her mother’s) with a purple streak running through it, she wore a black turtleneck sweater that was visible through her maroon trench coat along with black pants and heeled boots. Steve frowned. This woman didn’t look like Serena at all.

Serena walked closer to the woman.

“So…you’re kidnapped.” Val said to Serena.

“You really believed that?” Serena asked her aunt in disbelief.

“No.” Val shrugged before smirking. “I taught you better than that.”

“That you did.” Serena explained.

Val gestured to Sam, Natasha, and Steve. “Are you going to introduce me to these…hooligans?”

“They’re not hooligans.” Serena groaned.

“Yeah…we’re not.” Sam began.

“Did I ask you?” Val said in annoyance making Sam shut right up.

Val walked toward Sam and extended a hand, who shook it.

“Valentina Allegra de Fontaine…actually it’s Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. I know it’s hard, but I don’t like to repeat myself, so you can just call me Val. But don’t call me Val, just keep it in your head.” She explained making Sam frown in confusion.

Serena rolled her eyes as she watched her aunt turn around to face her.

“You look thin.” Val said eyeing her.

“Been under a lot of stress.” She replied.

“Come on, I’ve got what you asked for.” Val explained and just as Steve was about to follow her to get Sam’s gear, Serena held a hand up telling him not to follow her.

“I don’t trust her.” Sam murmured.

“Hmm…she wouldn’t hurt Serena.” Natasha replied eyeing the two women talking to one another as they opened the Lexus’s trunk.

“How can you be so sure?” Steve asked, worry present in his voice.

“I read her files…she hates Pierce…she wouldn’t dare hurt Serena.” Natasha explained making Steve sigh in relief.

“You know, out of all the people I’d expect you to run away with, I wouldn’t expect those three.” Val explained to Serena, behind the trunk of her car.

Serena shrugged. “They’re good people, and they look out for me…I trust them a lot.”

Val let out a laugh.

Serena frowned. “What’s funny.”

“You say you trust them…but in reality, you trust him.” She replied with a small smile.

“What?” Serena asked in confusion.

Val gestured to Steve, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Serena. Serena quickly glanced at him before looking Val in the eyes.

“Since I’ve gotten here, he has not taken his eyes off you, and was tempted to follow you over here…he didn’t because you told him no. That means three things, the first being he’s a stalker, the second you two have a friend with benefits relationship and he’s your fuckbuddy….” She trailed off.

“He’s not my fuckbuddy.” Serena groaned. “What’s the third thing?”
“He cares about you. Which from that Boy Scout’s history, I’m very shocked to witness, but then again, according to your mother, he stood in the OR when you had the glass removed from your shoulder and saved you when you were on the Lemurian Star.” Val explained.

“I like him a lot.” Serena murmured as she glanced at the tree line behind her.

“I know…he likes you too. Hence why he’s protective of you.” She replied smiling at her.

“I know.” Serena murmured again and Val nodded in agreement.

They both were quiet for a few moments before Val broke the silence.

“Did you two fuck yet?” She asked nonchalantly.

“Val!” Serena groaned loudly.

“What, I have to make sure you’re ok. Your mother doesn’t know you’re alive and I need to do what she would do.” Val explained.

Serena sighed in annoyance before grabbing the case and slamming the trunk. “Ok, I’m going to go.”

“Leave me, fine.” Val said in annoyance as Serena walked back towards the group. “Are you coming to Rebecca’s wedding?”

“Yes!” Serena explained glancing back at her. “I am her Maid of Honor!”

“Well, if you’d answer your phone, you would’ve been able to attend the Bridal Shower!” Val explained as she opened her car door.

“When was it?” Serena asked.

“You were in the middle of the fucking ocean!” Val yelled.

Serena rolled her eyes. Val smirked at the girl.

“Hey, Amber Waves of Grain!” Val called making Steve frown in confusion. “Take care of my niece!”

Steve gave her a slight nod before she smiled as she got in her car. Once she pulled away, Serena handed the case to Sam. It had bolded letters on it that read: FALCON.

“I believe, this is yours.” Serena said with a small smile.

“Thank you.” Sam replied as he placed the case in the backseat of his car, in between Steve and Serena.

Once they were all settled, they started driving back into D.C. It was awkward silence, until Natasha broke it.

“So, your cousin’s getting married?” She asked turning slightly to look Serena in the eye.

Serena nodded. “Yeah, in the next couple of weeks.”

“Your Maid of Honor?” She asked with a small smile.

“Not like I want to be.” Serena sighed. “I already missed the Bridal Shower and Bachelorette; I really suck at it.”

“When was the Bachelorette?” Natasha asked expressing interest into Serena’s life outside of SHIELD.

“When I was recovering from getting glass in my shoulder.” She explained. “Since my parent’s basically immobilized me from walking down the stairs, I wasn’t allowed to go.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that great anyways.” Natasha explained trying to uplift her spirits. “Where was it?”

Serena groaned. “Ibiza.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Sam said in disbelief glancing at her through the rear-view mirror. “How rich is your family?”

Serena shrugged with a small smile. “We’re not wealthy.”

“Really?” Natasha asked in disbelief. “This is the same girl who went to a French Boarding School, owns three horses, and her typical Spring Break destination when she had it was either Monaco or Cannes.”

“How do you know that?” Serena asked in disbelief.

“Hill told me.” Natasha explained.

“Now I’m curious, where was the Bridal Shower?” Sam asked.

“Napa Valley.” Serena murmured and Sam’s eyes almost burst out of his head.

“Where’s the wedding?” Steve asked, now fully interested in the conversation.

“The Hamptons.” She groaned. “Can we stop discussing this?”

Natasha let out a small laugh as she turned back around. “Fine, where’s Sitwell anyways?”

“He’s downtown, meeting with Senator Stern…Hill told me.” Serena explained. “They have lunch every week…or every time Sitwell isn’t stationed somewhere.”

“Alright, well the next thing that we do, is that one of us does gets him to where we want him.” Steve explained.

“I’ll do it.” Natasha began. “I’m not afraid to rough him up to get answers.”

“No, we stay in the shadows for as long as possible.” Steve explained. “Sam, would you be…”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle getting him to you three.” Sam began as he parked the car. “Just make sure one of you stays with my car…I don’t want it stolen.”

“I don’t think splitting up is…” Steve began.

“I’ll do it.” Serena said quietly making all eyes fall on her. “I need time to think anyways.”

Steve turned to her with a concerned look. “You sure?”

Serena nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Steve let out a sigh, as he, Sam, and Natasha all got out of the car, Sam’s case in hand. Serena sighed for a few minutes before getting into the front passenger’s seat. She pulled out her burner phone and immediately dialed Hill.

“This is Hill.” She heard her answer.

“Hey, it’s me.” Serena began. “How bad is it?”

“With regards to Fury or SHIELD?” Hill asked.

“Uh, that depends, you pick which one you talk about first.” She replied.

She heard Maria sigh on the other end. “So, according to your dad, you were kidnapped by Captain America and SHIELD is on high-alert looking for him and Romanoff, your Mom is freaking out, and based upon her interactions with me is starting to distrust your dad, I am evidently being transferred to New York after the fake funeral and…I’ve been watching your dog…oh and we have a plan to stop the launch.”

“Ok good, I need you to infiltrate STRIKE…I have a feeling after we get Sitwell, STRIKE is going to come full force.” Serena explained. “How’s Fury?”

“Holding up the best he can. Dr. Fine says it’ll be a little bit before he can fully act like himself again, but you and I know that he’ll disobey that order.” Maria explained.

Serena smiled. “Of course.”

“It won’t take me long to infiltrate STRIKE.” Maria continued. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“The sooner the better.” Serena murmured quietly. “I’ve got to go…keep an eye on my mom, will you?”

“I promise.” She replied before hanging up.

A few minutes later she saw Steve, Natasha, and Sam, walking toward the car with Sitwell in tow, making her smirk in amusement. Natasha pushed Sitwell into the car, and Serena turned around with an amused look on her face.

“Hi Cupcake, you have a good day at school?” Serena said mockingly.

Sitwell narrowed his eyes. “What’s she doing here?”

“What? You really thought that I wouldn’t be here?” Serena asked as Sam started the car. “You really are a fucking idiot.”

As Sam started the car and pulled onto the freeway, Serena leaned back in her seat and turned on the radio. Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten blasted through the speakers. Serena smirked. Not only did this song annoy Sitwell, but what annoyed him even more was karaoke…she found that out when they were on the Lemurian Star.

“I hate this song.” He murmured as he adjusted in his seat, even though Natasha was holding a gun to his side.

“Staring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window.” Serena sang with a smirk.

“Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find.” Natasha sang along.

“Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it, release your inhibition.” Sam joined in.

“FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN!” The three of them sang/shouted making Sitwell stir uncomfortably and Steve to shake his head in amusement. “NO ONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU, ONLY YOU CAN LET IT IN! NO ONE ELSE, NO ONE ELSE, CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS, DRENCH YOURSELF IN WORDS UNSPOKEN, LIVE YOUR LIFE WITH ARMS WIDE OPEN, TODAY IS WHERE YOUR BOOK BEGINS, THE REST IS STILL UNWRITTEN!”

Steve reached across the center console from the backseat and turned off he radio.

“Thank god.” Sitwell murmured.

“Enough, all three of you.” Steve instructed making Serena let out a laugh.

“Sorry, I just wanted to give him some torture as well.” Serena explained.

“You did.” Sitwell groaned.

“Buddy, they still have to explain to me why you are here, so that’s only the beginning.” Serena smirked mischievously making Steve shake his head in amusement.

Steve admired Serena in many ways. He admired her intelligence, determination, confidence, personality, her way to command a room…but he also admired her ability to take control of a situation. However, just because he admired her, didn’t mean he feared her in some ways. And based upon the look on her face, and gleam in her eye, Steve knew that underneath her beautiful, warm, comforting exterior, was a woman who was snapping on the inside due to all the information she has found out within the last 24 hours, and ready to watch the world burn. And even though that scared the shit out of Steve, he still was in love with the woman who wanted to set the world on fire.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Notes:

As always, let me know if you'd like to see anything, and or if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Present Day

 

 “Shit.” Serena murmured as she glanced at her burner phone. They had been driving for a while, and out of all the things happening she wasn’t expecting this.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked.

“My brother is asking where I am…he and Hill are the only ones who have this number…the only thing I don’t get is why he’s asking. He’s in Syria…so why he’s asking where I am, means my dad is trying to find me.” She explained closing her phone.

“You’re not going to answer him?” Natasha asked.

“I don’t know who’s side he’s on.” She began. “But then again, he’s probably on our side…given all he’s done.”

“What’s he done?” Steve asked with caution.

“He’s part of SEAL TEAM 6.” She sighed.

“I didn’t know you had a brother…let alone think he was a Navy Seal.” Steve remarked.

“He’s also 10 years older than me, so when I was taken hostage in Colombia, he was 15 attending boarding school in France.” She continued. “But for Nick to ask where I am…it either means our dad is hounding him to find you guys or he’s actually concerned.”
“His name is Nick?” Steve asked with raised brows.

“They named him after Fury.” She said with an eye roll. “I was named after the wife of some martyr during the time of the Roman Empire…long story short, my dad named Nick and my mom named me.”

“HYDRA will find you, they don’t like leaks.” Sitwell remarked from the backseat.

“They why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam snapped in annoyance.

“We’re cutting a little bit close here.” Natasha began. “INSIGHT’s launching in sixteen hours.”

Steve nodded. “I know. We’ll use him to bypass DNA scans and access the Helicarriers directly.”

“There’s only two ways for this to go wrong.” Natasha remarked.

“Don’t worry, 30 more ideas will pop into my head before we end this.” Serena smirked.

“What!” Sitwell blurted in shock. “Are you crazy, that is a terrible, terrible idea!”

“If you don’t shut up, I will turn on the Spice Girls!” Serena threatened.

Sitwell fell silent, knowing deep in his mind that he didn’t want to hear the Spice Girls. Just then, a loud thud was heard on the roof of the car.  Serena looked up and saw the indentation of boots on the ceiling, but before anyone could react, a hand came crashing through the window, grabbed Sitwell, and launched him into traffic.

“BYE!” Serena waved with a small smile before laughing. “You think that was Scary Spice, coming to kill him?”

“WHY DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?” Steve asked at the same Natasha climbed into the front seat, and into Serena’s lap.

Serena shrugged as she pulled out her gun, but before she could fire, gunshots ricocheted across the car, causing all of them to duck.

“Pierce get in the back and stay down.” Steve instructed as he swapped positions with Serena.

In that swift movement, Steve was able to switch the car into park causing the car to come to a screeching halt. Serena who had just gotten to the backset was thrown forward causing her body to collide with the seats. The man who murdered Sitwell had jumped off the car, but stopped his momentum with his metal arm, as his fingers dug into the asphalt.

“The Winter Soldier.” Serena said quietly.

Just as Serena sat up and recomposed herself, and just as Natasha was about to fire her gun, a brute force hit the car from behind, causing glass to shatter all over Serena, along with her colliding face first into the seats again. The scream she let out, caused Steve to take his eyes off the attacker.

“SER?” He shouted with concern.

Serena didn’t reply as she slowly brought herself up with her bloody hands. She knew she most likely had cuts all over…she was bleeding badly. Just as she was about to reply, the black armored car that caused her to fall into the seats, started driving them towards The Winter Soldier. Serena whose mind turned into fight or flight, began to search for her gun that had fallen onto the floor of the car, and while she could hear Sam slamming the breaks to try and stop the larger vehicle pushing them…it didn’t work. Just as she grabbed her gun off the floor, a loud crash came from the front making her look up to see The Winter Soldier grab the steering wheel and yank it out of Sam’s hands. Sam’s eyes widened.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN!” Sam shouted as the car began to swerve.

Serena, who was clutching onto her gun for dear life, slammed into each door repeatedly. She cursed as she slammed into the door for a 5^th time.

“CAN ONE OF YOU FUCKING MORONS DO SOMETHING! I AM FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE BACK HERE!” She screamed as the car crashed into the cement barrier, making Serena hit the door again. She felt blood begin to come out of her forehead, but all she could think of was how could she have survived that.

“Hang on!” Steve shouted as began to forcefully bang on the door with his shield.

Serena kicked open the door she was next to and tumbled onto the pavement on the other side of the highway.

“Pierce!” Natasha said in disbelief as Steve grabbed Natasha and Sam allowing them to escape the car.

Serena groaned in pain as she got up and began to dodge both in coming traffic and cars coming at her. She quickly looked down at her arms and realized they were scraped and burns, but from her position, she was able to make out the silhouette of The Winter Soldier, carrying a sniper riffle, ready to fire at will. She found Sam crouching behind a car, and she joined him.

“How’s it going?” She asked breathlessly, as she tried to catch her breath.

Sam shrugged. “Oh, you know. Same shit, different day.”

Serena nodded as she looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with The Winter Soldier.

“He’s coming this way, I’ll take him, you go find the others.” She explained.

“But…” Sam began.

“That’s an order.” She instructed as she made herself visible to The Winter Soldier, firing four shots, all of which he blocked with his metal arm…none of which did anything.

He lodged himself toward her, making her duck, in attempt to take out his legs, but it was a cheap, predicted, and poor move. He immediately countered her attack, by pulling her up forcefully, making her groan in pain. The two of them started to go hand-to-hand, and while Serena was excellent in hand-to-hand combat (the best in her class at the CIA Academy), nothing prepared her for going up against The Winter Soldier. He forcefully grabbed her leg, and threw her across the road, allowing her to land forcefully into the side of a car. She immediately fell to the ground and didn’t move. She wasn’t dead, but she got the wind knocked out of her. Thankfully, The Winter Soldier abandoned her, and went after Steve.

 Serena groaned as she looked up to see Natasha holding her shoulder, as she crouched down to help Serena.

“C’mon Pierce.” Natasha said, as she helped Serena up, and Serena saw she was in pain.

“Are you shot?” Serena asked weakly and Natasha gave a weak nod back.

Serena grabbed her gun, and as The Winter Soldier began to attack Steve, Serena began to fire at him to try and avert his gaze. But Steve nor The Winter Soldier didn’t move, and Steve dropped his shield, as agents approached them. Serena frowned in confusion. Why was Steve surrendering…to Rumlow of all people.

Once they all were in handcuffs, they were all forcefully placed in the back of a truck. All of them were silent. They were surrounded by two SHIELD Agents who were covered from head to toe in black to allow them to seem less human, and exhaustion came over Serena. She sat next to Steve, and began to feel pain as she breathed in. She knew she broke her ribs; she knew she had lacerations all over…she knew she was in bad shape. A million things were running threw her head…she couldn’t believe that her father wanted her dead…all for helping Steve Rogers. She wondered what lie he told her mother and her brother.

“It was him.” Steve said quietly.

“Who?” Serena quietly replied, meeting his gaze.

“Bucky.” Steve continued. “It was him, he looked right at me, like he didn’t even know me.”

“How is that even possible?” Sam replied in disbelief. “Bucky Barnes died seventy years ago.”

Steve was quiet for a while before sighing. “Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘forty-three. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped him survive the fall. They must’ve found him and…”

“None of that’s you’re fault.” Serena weakly explained, her calming voice making Steve turn to meet her gaze.

“You didn’t know.” Natasha weakly explained as she leaned against Sam for support.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” Steve quietly remarked making Serena sigh with sympathy. She felt horrible.

Natasha groaned in pain, as she rested her head against the wall of the truck, as blood started to fall out of her shoulder.

Sam looked from her to one of the agents.

“We need to get a doctor here. If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s going to bleed out here in the truck.” Sam snapped at the agents.

One of the guards drew a taser baton, and instead of driving it into Sam, they drove it into the other guard, before kicking them unconscious. Serena’s eyes narrowed, as she knew exactly who it was. Maria carefully took the helmet off her head, before smoothing her hair out.

“God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” Maria groaned before looking at Serena. “You look like shit.”

“Sure…now you show up.” Serena said with annoyance. “Not when I was fighting for survival in the back of Bird Brain’s car!”

“Hey!” Sam said in annoyance.

“Shut up!” Serena snapped.

“I don’t get a thank you?” Maria asked in disbelief. “I have been watching your dog, by the way, your brother called me and asked why you aren’t answering your calls.”

“Maybe because I’m supposed to be kidnapped.” Serena groaned.

“Both of them are save, and not HYDRA…your welcome.” Maria explained before locking eyes with Sam. “Who’s this guy?”

Eventually, after cutting a mouse hole into the bottom of the car, they easily escaped, stole a car, and drove to an abandoned concrete dam. Serena stripped off her blood-stained sweatshirt revealing her black tank top, and groaned in pain as she pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. Steve wrapped an arm around her as he helped her into the building.

“I’m fine.” She said quietly.

Steve didn’t reply but placed a kiss to her temple. Deep in his mind, he was worried about her…he was grateful she wasn’t dead.

She picked her head up off Steve’s shoulder as she Dr. Fine coming running toward them.

“Agent Pierce!” He began. “Are you alright?”

Serena shook her head before looking to Natasha.

“GSW, she’s lost at least a pint.” Maria explained.

“Maybe two!” Sam added.

“Let me take her.” Fine replied grabbing Natasha.

Serena shook her head. “She’ll want to see him first.”

Maria lead them through the facility before leading them to a nearby room, and pulling back the curtains to reveal Nick Fury laying in his hospital bed.

“About damn time.” Fury groaned.

As they all looked at him in disbelief, he began to rattle off his injuries.

“Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache.” Fury explained.

“Don’t forget your collapsed lung.” Serena said as she crossed her arms, groaning in pain.

“That too.” Fury nodded.

“How did you survive?” Natasha asked in disbelief. “I saw you die. Your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B.” Fury explained. “Slows the pulse to one beat per minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

“You knew?” Steve and Natasha asked in disbelief looking at Serena.

Serena, who was standing next to Maria looked down at the ground and sighed before looking back to them.

“Yes.” She murmmered.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve asked.

“Any attempt on the director’s life had to look successful.” Maria explained.

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead.” Fury deadpanned. “I had to keep a small circle.”

“Were those tears you cried…were they real?” Steve asked.

“Everything you saw from me…everything I’ve ever told you…you know deep down, is real.” She murmured.

“Pierce has been working for me since before she went on the Lemurian Star…I told her to betray her father…and be loyal to me…and I am grateful for her for that.” Fury explained.

After Natasha was patched up, they all gathered in a room where Fury had a large briefcase on the table, and a picture of her father…her father’s SHIELD profile picture.

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury remarked as he looked at the photo. “He said ‘Peace was not an achievement, but a responsibility.’ See, it’s stuff like this, that gives me trust issues.”

“But you trust me, and I’m related to the guy.” Serena remarked.

“I’ve liked you more than him…your brother too…who has been looking for you.” He said making Serena roll her eyes.

“We need to stop the launch.” Natasha began.

“I don’t think the Council is accepting my calls anymore.” Fury explained as he opened the case, revealing 3 computer chips.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Once the carriers reach 3000 feet, they’ll triangulate within the satellites becoming fully weaponized.” Maria explained.

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury continued.

“One or two won’t cut it.” Serena explained. “We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational…a whole lot of people are going to die.”

Fury leaned forward.“We have to assume everyone onboard those carriers are HYDRA. You need to get past them, and insert these server blades…and maybe, just maybe we can salvage what’s left-“

“We’re not salvaging anything!” Steve interrupted. “We’re not just taking down the carriers, we’re taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD has nothing to do with it.” Fury protested.

“You gave me this mission; this is how it ends.” Steve argued. “SHIELD’s been compromised, you said it yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose, and nobody noticed.”

“Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave.” Fury sarcastically replied. “I noticed.”

“And how many paid the price before you did?” Steve asked.

Serena looked at Steve with a soft facial expression. She knew he was right…SHIELD must go.

“Look, I didn’t know about Barnes.” Fury explained.

“Even if you had, would you have told me?” Steve asked. “Or would you compartmentalize that too?” He gestured to Maria and Serena “Have them do your dirty work?”

Maria and Serena glanced at each other, knowing he was right. They had been doing Fury’s dirty work.

“SHEILD, HYDRA, it all goes.” Steve explained.

“He’s right.” Serena remarked and Maria nodded making Fury look at them in disbelief.

Fury then looked to Natasha, who just sat back in her chair, he then looked to Sam.

Sam shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I do what he does, just slower.”

Fury shook his head in disbelief before leaning back. “Well…looks like you’re giving the orders now Captain.”

Eventually, they all agreed on the plan, and just as Serena was going to go get some rest, Fury pulled her aside.

“I have something for you.” He explained.

She frowned as he placed another briefcase on the table, this time, with a CIA logo on it.

“What is this?” She said in confusion as she opened it. Her eyes widened in shock. “Is this what I think it is?”

“I had your brother pick it up on his way to the safe house, out of the range of the carriers…him and your mother were on the list.” He explained.

“So, he’s not HYDRA?” Serena asked.

“Far from it…he was calling to ensure that you got the package.” Fury explained as he walked out of the room. “And now you do…welcome back…Viper.”

Serena smiled as she ran her right hand over the long-sleeved green and black suit, that was once her CIA mission suit. She thought it’d never would see the light of day…until now. Upon glancing at her watch, she noticed it was almost sunrise. Wanting to see the sunrise, she walked out of the compound and saw Steve gazing out at the Potomac.

“What’s wrong?” She quietly asked.

Steve looked down at his feet before turning to look at her.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Fine, I’m a little sore, but you didn’t answer my question.” Serena explained.

“Why did you do it?” Steve asked.

Serena gazed off at the water before turning to look at Steve who was now inches away from her.

She sighed. “I didn’t know who to trust…and when I accepted the job…I didn’t expect for this to happen…nor did I ever expect for Fury to be fake dead.”

“Do you trust me?” He asked looking deeply into her emerald eyes.

She nodded. “I trust you with my life…and for me to say that…that’s greater than ever getting an I love you out of me.”

“I do.” Steve said quietly as he put his hands on her waist.

“You what?” She asked.

“I love you.” He said calmly.

Her eyes widened, but never left his. “Steve, I-“

“I love you.” He repeated. “I love everything about you. You’re intelligent, beautiful, slightly impulsive, kind of hot headed…”

She rolled her eyes with humor. “Typically, you say I love you after the 3^rd or 4^th date.”

Steve shook his head in amusement. “But the point is, I know how to calm you down when you get mad. You allow me to see another side of you.” He continued. “You see me for me. You don’t see me as him, you see me as Steve.”

“I never saw you as him.” She explained. “You’re still the guy who I met at the National Mall that morning. You’ll always be Steve to me…I don’t…I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” He cautiously asked.

“I don’t love him…I love you” She quietly explained. “It’s always been you.”

That’s when Steve leaned in, closing the gap and pulled her in for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, and Serena threw her arms around his neck. Both were focused on each other. In that moment, at least in their minds, time stopped around them, and the only thing that existed in that moment in time, was the two of them. Once they pulled apart, they placed their foreheads together, her arms still around his neck, his arms around her waist.

“We really are doing everything out of order.” She remarked.

“At this point, I’m not surprised.” Steve said with a laugh. “Are you going to be ok?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine, both physically and mentally. Will you?”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

She gave him a small smile. “It’s ok, we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?” He asked pulling his head away to look her in the eyes.

She nodded. “Together.”

Just as he was about to kiss her again, an awkward cough was made. Both turned to look behind them to see Sam.

“Pierce, Fury needs you…says something about your father and Alpha Level Clearance.” He explained.

Serena nodded, before glancing to Steve, giving him a small smile, before walking back into the compound. Sam gave her a small smile as she walked past him and watched her walk back inside before turning to Steve with a smirk. Steve frowned before Sam started to nod and give him a thumbs up.

“What?” Steve asked in confusion.

“Good choice.” Sam remarked.

Steve smiled. “I know.”

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Notes:

As always let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns

Present Day

As they trekked through the woods, Serena felt her stomach drop. This was it. The moment she had been dreading this entire time, but knew it had to be done. Maria, who had been walking alongside her, noticed her hesitance.

“You ok, Ser?” She asked.

Serena gave her a slight nod. “Yeah.”

The four of them came to a halt as they visualized the Triskelion. Natasha had already contacted Councilwoman Hawley, who was in on the plan the entire time, and had taken her place in the World Security Council meeting. Fury, who wanted to make the most dramatic entrance possible, was flying a helicopter to meet them there. The plan was in place, now all they had to do, was set it in motion. Steve had opted to ditch the SHIELD uniform and went with the one he wore in the 40s, which he stole from the Smithsonian…it had importance in times like these.

Once they made it into the facility, using underground service tunnels and the drainage systems, they headed to one of the main control rooms. Maria and Serena fired a small EMP that jammed the server’s systems for a short period of time. Serena, Maria, and Sam had all drawn their guns ready to fire, depending on who opened the door. As soon as the door was open, the officer looked at them in shock.

“Excuse us.” Steve said with a sigh, and the guard put his hands up in surrender.

As soon as they entered, Serena handcuffed and zip-tied the guards in the corner.

“That should keep them silent.” She said with a smirk.

“We all thought you were dead.” One of them said.

Her smirk grew. “It’s difficult to kill me.”

Maria quickly tapped a few buttons on one of the consoles before looking to Steve.

“You’re good to go.” She explained as Steve took off his helmet and leaned forward into the microphone.

 “Attention all SHIELD Agents, this is Steve Rogers.” Steve began. “You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it’s time you know the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D. is not what we thought it was.”

A small sigh came out of Serena as she made eye contact with Steve.

“It’s been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader.” He said meeting her gaze. He noticed a small tear run down her cheek, as she closed her eyes to try and compose herself. “The STRIKE and INSIGHT crews are HYDRA as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they’re in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control.”

Maria wrapped an arm around Serena trying to console her. She knew in the back of her mind that today was going to be hard, no matter what happens. Everything she knew, was a lie.

“They shot Nick Fury…they tried to kill Serena Pierce, and it won’t end there.” Steve continued. “If you launch those Helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I’m asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it’s a price I’m willing to pay, and if I’m the only one, then so be it, but I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

Steve let out a sigh before closing the intercom and stepping away from the system.

“Did you write that down first, or was that off the top of your head?” Sam asked in disbelief.

Steve shook his head but didn’t answer.

“Alright, I’ll stay here, and monitor everything…you all know your assignments.” Maria explained.

Steve walked over to Serena and kissed her swiftly, before holding her face in his hands.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing, I just…” He began.

She nodded, already knowing what he was going to say. “I know you do….and I do too. Promise me you won’t die.”
“How could I?” He asked with a small smile as he grabbed his helmet off the console. “We still have dinner plans.”

She rolled her eyes as he and Sam walked out to head towards the Helicarriers. Once gone, Serena’s once happy expression turned into one of annoyance as she looked to Maria, who was smirking in her chair.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing, you might want to head upstairs, I’m sure Romanoff revealed herself to your dad.” Maria said with a small smile.

“I’m sure…I’m also 99% sure that it’s going to be guarded.” Serena explained as she pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. She then tossed Maria her phone.

“What’s this?” Maria asked in disbelief.

“Play me something to beat their asses to.” Serena said with a smirk as she walked out of room, loading both of her Glocks.

“They’re beginning to launch.” Maria explained over the coms.

Meanwhile

“Hey Cap!” Sam shouted as they ran towards the now taking off Helicarriers. “How do we know the good guys from the bad guys?”

“Well, the one’s that aren’t shooting you are good, the ones that aren’t shooting you are bad!” Steve explained.

“You could be a little less blunt, Steve.” Serena said over the coms.

“Sorry sweetheart, forgot this is an open line.” Steve replied as he ran towards the gunfire.

“Hey Cap, found those bad guys you were talking about.” Sam shouted as he flew around the gunfire.

“You, ok?” Steve asked.

“Not dead, yet.” Sam explained.

Meanwhile

As Serena stepped into the elevator, and watched the gunfire occur on the Helicarriers, she closed her eyes and sighed. In the back of her mind, she knew this was going to be bad. She took a deep breath, and just as she was about to ask Maria what the status was on the carriers, the familiar trumpets of Beyonce’s Crazy in Love played over the loudspeakers.

“Really, Maria?” Serena asked.

“You love this song.” Maria protested. “And to quote Beyonce, You Ready, Let’s Go Get ‘Em.”

Serena rolled her eyes as the song continued to play, tightly gripping her Glocks ready to open fire once those elevators opened. As soon as those elevator doors opened, Serena was met by at least 10 SHIELD officers.

“Yeah.” She said nonchalantly as they aimed their weapons at her.

Meanwhile

“What is she doing?” One of the councilmen asked as they watched Natasha, who now revealed herself to them began to disable SHIELD files.

“She’s disabling security protocols and dumping all of the secrets on the Internet.” Pierce explained as he stepped closer to her.

“Including HYDRA’s.” Natasha explained.

“And SHIELD’s.” Pierce continued. “If you do this, none of your past is going to remain hidden. Are you sure you’re ready for the world to see you, as you really are?”

Natasha met his gaze and smirked. “Are you?”

Meanwhile

‘Got me lookin’ so crazy, my baby. I’m not myself, lately I’m foolish, I don’t do this.’ Beyonce’s voice sang over the speakers.

Serena who knew the song by heart, continued to take down every single officer that came in her way. She had made it through most of the agents, and now there were just stragglers. She broke out into a sprint before jumping around the agent’s back and grappling her legs around the agent’s neck to slam him to the floor. Just as she got up, another agent, came up behind her, but before the agent could react, Serena swept them to the floor with her legs. The final third one started to fire his gun at her, but because she broke out into a sprint, she was able to knee-slide in between his legs before shooting him in the back. She smirked as she saw the guy fall dead to the floor before slowly standing up.

“Pierce, what’s your status?” Maria asked. “Or do I need to play Lose my Breath next?”

“Clear up here, waiting for Fury.” Serena explained as she continued down the hallway, placing one of her Glock’s into her waist holster.

“Hold up, you guys are playing Beyonce right now?” Sam’s voice came over the coms.

“She needed music, to get in the zone.” Maria explained.

“You at least could’ve shared with the rest of us.” Sam groaned.

Serena rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, before kicking down the door to the World Security Council meeting room. Serena slowly walked in with her gun aimed at her father. From where Natasha was standing, she could see a murderous look in her eyes. They were dark and filled with hatred. A look that she herself possess at times, but Serena’s was 100 times worse.

“Hi Daddy.” Serena said with an angry snark. “Miss me? Or you didn’t think you’d see me right now?”

Pierce stood motionless as he made eye contact with his daughter.
“I see you’ve abandoned everything I’ve ever done for you.” He began.

She shrugged. “And what was that? Manipulating my brother and I? Manipulating Mom? You’re lucky Nick and Mom are safe…they’d want to kill you themselves.”

“Really?” Pierce asked. “Or would you realize that everything I’ve ever done, has been for you, your bother, and your mother?”

“By putting the three of us on your kill list.” Serena spat.

“I did what was necessary.” Pierce explained.

Serena ignored her father’s words and looked to Natasha. “How are we?”

“Almost ready.” Natasha explained.

“Disabling the encryption?” Pierce asked. “That’s an executive order, it requires two alpha level members.”

Serena smirked as she stood alongside Natasha. “Don’t you worry. Company’s coming.”

Just as she said those words, a helicopter landed on the helipad, and in walked Nick Fury. The entire World Security Council looked surprised as Fury walked in making Pierce slightly smile.

“Did you get my flowers?” He asked.

Fury glared at him as he walked in.

“I’m glad you’re here Nick.” Pierce explained.

“Really?” Fury began as he walked closer. “Because I thought you had me killed?”

“You know how the game works.” Pierce explained.

“Why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury asked.

“Because you were the best, most ruthless person I ever met.” Pierce continued.

“I did what I did to protect people.” Fury explained.

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder, war, it’s just a matter of time before a dirty bomb in Moscow or an EMP fries Chicago.” Pierce continued. “Diplomacy? Holding action and ending. And you know where I learned that. Bogota. You didn’t ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of 7 billion people, by sacrificing 20 million.”

“Including your wife and children.” Serena scowled with anger.

“I didn’t want it to be this way sweetheart, I really didn’t. But I knew, deep down, you were working for Fury…you’ve always were loyal to him, and never loyal to those by blood.” Pierce explained.

“I joined SHIELD because you forced me.” She began. “I was happy in the CIA…you brought me here, for what intention? To make me HYDRA?”

Pierce wickedly smiled that made Serena feel sick to her stomach. “That was the plan, but unfortunately, something got in the way.”

“And what was that?” She gritted through her teeth.

Pierce pointed out the window the Helicarriers. “Him!”

Serena knew her father was right. She had grown soft, let her brick wall fall, and allow for Steve to see the real side of her, originally, she had thought it was a sign of weakness, but right now, using her emotions allowed her to finally realize that she had chosen the right side in this fight.

“You met him!” Pierce began. “He manipulated you…he is using you; he doesn’t love you; he’s never loved you. He loves the game; he loves to use. That’s what he does. That’s what they all do. He made you weak, he made you sensitive. You were strong, you were able to withhold emotions, and now look at you. Weak, and filled with sensitivity.”
Serena looked to Fury who simply nodded.

“I believe she doesn’t believe a word your saying…good attempt though.” Fury explained as he forcefully grabbed Pierce and led him over to the holographic screen.

“Don’t worry Daddy.” Serena began making Pierce look her in the eye before her innocent expression turned into an evil smirk. “I’m not pregnant…yet.”

Just as she said those words, making her father’s eyes go wide, Natasha hit the button allowing for the retinal scanner to appear.

Pierce smirked. “Don’t you think we cleared your appearance from the system?”

“I know you erased my password.” Fury began. “Probably deleted my retinal scan, but if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary, you’ll have to keep both eyes open.”

Serena smirked as Fury took off his eye patch revealing his bad, eye as they scanned both of their eyes.

‘Alpha Level, Confirmed’. The computer said. ‘Encryption Code Accepted, Encryption Codes Removed.’

“Serena.” Maria’s voice said over the coms. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”

She looked to the security camera and shook her head.

“Thank god.” Maria said. “I’m too young to be an aunt.”

Serena smiled and stifled a laugh.

“Done.” Natasha said as the computer finished.

Serena pointed. “Oh look, it’s trending on Twitter!”

That’s when painful screams started to eradicate through the room as her father grabbed his phone and began to murder the council members by allowing for their badges to burn holes right through their hearts. Natasha now aimed her gun at Pierce.

“Unless you want a 2-inch hole in your sternum, I’d put that gun down.” Pierce explained. “That was armed the moment you pinned it on.

Serena and Fury still had their guns aimed at him, but in that moment all three of them lowered their guns, not wanting to lose Natasha.

“Lieutenant, how much longer?” Pierce asked as he walked over to the control panel.

“65 seconds until satellite exposure.” A voice said. “Targeting grid engaged, lowering weapons now.”

Serena’s eyes widened as she watched the countdown clock on the screen. Within less than 60 seconds, she’d be dead. Every single person she’d care about, would be dead. Just as she closed her eyes, ready to experience death. She heard her father sigh. Her eyes immediately opened revealing no targets acquired on the screen. Steve did it. A smile broke out onto her face.

Meanwhile

“Alright Cap get out of there.” Maria instructed.

“Fire now.” Steve weakly replied.

“But Steve…” Maria began.

“Do it!” He ordered. “Tell Serena I love her, and that I’m sorry.”

Maria closed her eyes and did as she was told.

Meanwhile

Serena’s eyes widened as she watched the Helicarriers fire at each other. In the back of her mind, she’d hope Steve had gotten off safely. That’s all she prayed for.

“What a waste.” Her father glowered making her turn around to look at him in disbelief.

“Still on the fence about Steve’s chances?” Serena asked.

“Time to go, Councilwoman…this way.” Pierce explained ushering Natasha towards the exit, ignoring his daughter’s comment. “Come on, you’re going to fly me out of here.”

“You know, there was a time, I would’ve taken a bullet for you.” Fury began.

“You already did.” Pierce smiled. “And you will again, as soon as we…”

Just then an electrical impulse went through Natasha’s body, making her drop to the floor. Just as Pierce, rebooted the program on his phone to burn a hole in her heart, he heard the click of a gun making him immediately stand up and turn towards the sound. That’s when two shots were fired making him fall to the floor and begin to bleed out. Fury ran toward Natasha, but glanced at Serena, who was still holding the gun, watching her father die in a pool of his own blood…blood that she caused to spill out of him.

Serena slowly walked over to her father’s dying body and looked over him.

“Hail HYDRA.” He whispered.

Even in his final moments, her father was the worst human being on the planet. Within a matter of seconds, Serena, Natasha, and Fury were all in the Helicopter, with Fury flying in the pilot’s seat, Serena in the co-pilot’s seat, and Natasha in the back, ready to make the necessary evacuations.

“PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE THAT CHOPPER IN THE AIR!” Sam screamed over the coms.

“Sam where are you?” Natasha asked.

“41^st floor, Northwest Corner!” Sam shouted.

“We’re on it, stay where you are!” Serena explained as she and Fury piloted the Helicopter.

“THAT’S NOT AN OPTION!” Sam shouted.

Within a matter of seconds, Serena saw Sam jumping out the side of the building, 10 feet up from where he told them, so she and Fury used the controls to tilt the chopper to allow for Sam to fall inside it.

“41^st FLOOR!” Sam shouted. “41^st!

“It’s not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” Fury explained.

“Hill, where’s Steve?” Serena asked.

“Do we have a location on Rogers?” Natasha also asked.

“He told me to shoot it down.” Maria explained making Serena’s entire body go numb.

“What?” Natasha asked in disbelief.

“He told me to…Serena…he wanted me to tell you that he loves you and he’s sorry.” Maria’s voice explained.

Serena felt tears begin to prickle in her eyes, as she looked around her.

“FIND HIM!” She screamed into the coms.

“Serena.” Natasha began.

Serena whipped her head around to look the redhead in the eyes. “HE’S NOT DEAD UNTIL I SEE A BODY!”

Natasha sighed, knowing she was right. Once the final Helicarrier crashed into the Potomac, Fury and Serena flew the chopper around the outskirts of the river to see if anything resurfaced, and much to Serena’s disbelief and shock, she spotted a body, in red, white, and blue lying on the riverbank. Hill, who had gotten out of the building a few moments before the Helicarrier crashed, had already called EMS, and were already on the scene.

“They say he’s alive but in pretty bad shape, they’re taking him to Walter Reed now.” Maria explained over the coms. “Guess he can tell you that he loves you in person now, Ser.”

Serena laughed through her tears, as they piloted the chopper to the hospital, not only for Steve’s sake, but to also get themselves checked out.

Immediately after arrival, Steve was whisked away into surgery while the others were analyzed for any other injuries. As Serena was sitting on her bed in the emergency room, a familiar voice rippled through it.

“SERA!”

Her head immediately snapped up to see her mother, and her brother, Nick, running toward her. She smiled and met them halfway pulling them both into a hug.

“You’re ok.” Felicita began as she pulled away.

Serena nodded. “I’m ok.”

“Did Dad…” Nick began.

She shook her head. “He’s dead. They’re all gone. I’m sorry.”

Felicita shook her head before kissing her daughter on the cheek. “Sweetie, I knew something was wrong when you disappeared down the hall that night when you came for dinner. I asked Director Fury and he told me what you were doing…your father had kept many things from me, and I’m not surprised he wanted me dead…but right now, all that matters, is that we have the three of us, and we are all safe.”

Serena smiled before being engulfed into a hug again, finally realizing that everything was going to be ok. Eventually, Serena made her way over to the room where Steve would be staying. Upon walking in, she saw Sam reading a book, and listening to Marvin Gaye. She softly knocked to get his attention.

“Hey.” She said with a small smile.

“Hey. He’s good. Doctor said he should wake at any time now.” Sam explained.

She nodded and sat down on the other side of the bed and began to read any text messages she might’ve missed. Things were silent before a familiar voice interrupted their thoughts.

“On your left.” Steve weakly said making Serena and Sam smile.

“I’ll go get the doctor and let him know you’re awake.” Sam said as he smirked at Serena before walking out. She shook her head in annoyance.

“Hey.” Steve said making eye contact with her.

“Hi.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

He nodded. “Right back at you.”

They were silent before Steve reached out and took Serena’s right hand, before bringing it to his lips, and placing a kiss on it.

“My father’s dead…I killed him.” She quietly explained.

“I’m sorry.” Steve quietly replied, and he was. No one should ever have to kill their parents for the good of the world.

“You know it’s funny.” She began. “Even up until his last breath, he still was for them. He said I was weak…he said I was weak for using my emotions for the first time in my life.”

“You’re not weak.” Steve sighed.

“I know, and I know he was trying to get into my head…but for a split second, I thought it was true.” She began before a small smile broke out onto her face. “And then I remembered, you…and that’s when I realized…you’re not weak to use your emotions, you’re weak if don’t use them…and I’m glad I lowered my walls, because if I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have realized how much I love you.”

Steve gave her a soft smile. “I love you too.”

She nodded before standing up. “I know but think about it this way.”

“What way?” He asked, watching her as she walked to the doorway.

“You have all the time it takes for you two heal, to figure out, where you’re taking me to dinner.” She said with a small smile.

Notes:

One more chapter after this, and then we are finished with CA: TWS.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

3 Weeks Later

Location: Capitol Hill

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?” One of the clerks asked as Serena had her right hand raised, and left hand on the bible.

She nodded. “I do.”

“Please be seated.” The clerk instructed and Serena obliged.

She practically shuddered as she heard the 12 billion camera clicks, marking her every move.

“Please state your full name, for the record.” General Scudder began.

Like Natasha, Serena had been placed before the United States Senate, due to her involvement with SHIELD, the CIA, Project: INSIGHT, and her overall relation to her father. Her mother, being the Director of the CIA was placed under a similar committee, and they acquitted her of any possible relation, as they found that nothing was wrong with her and had no relation to HYDRA, despite who her husband was in the organization. Serena was on day 3 of her questioning, and they finally had gotten into the CIA, SHIELD, and HYDRA.

“Serena Alexandra de Fontaine Pierce.” Serena began.

“Miss Pierce, is it true that you were trained in the CIA from the time you were 18?” Scudder asked.

“Yes.” Serena explained.

“Why did you join?” Scudder asked.

“I had a surgery that altered my original plan of going to Julliard for ballet…but usually I just tell people I wanted to carry on my family’s legacy.” She continued. “The second story usually gets used more.”

“During your time in the CIA Academy you not only excelled compared to any other trainee, but also was the youngest Specialist in the organization, which earned you the codename Viper.” Scudder continued before grabbing a file. “In my hands, I have a report from one of your former handlers, about a mission you did 3 years ago in Turkmenistan. It reads: ‘Upon examining the site after the team was extracted, a slew of corpses laid on the floor. All of which had bullet, and stab wounds. Toxicology reports done on the blood of these bodies report that snake venom was present within their veins. The team consisted of 2 people originally, and one of them was killed before setting foot into the facility. Agent Pierce however completed the mission…with little to no signs of physical or mental distress.’ Miss Pierce, is it true, that you use poisonous snake venom to murder HYDRA Agents during the attack in the Triskelion?”

She shook her head. “I stopped using snake venom when I joined SHIELD…it was too inhumane.”
“Enough beating around the bush. I’m just going to ask you flat out.” One of the Senators said. “Did you know your father was the leader of HYDRA, and are you part of HYDRA?”

She shook her head again. “I wouldn’t have killed him if I was with them.”

That comment drew whispers from some of the committee members.

“Why did you kill Alexander Pierce?” Scudder asked.

Serena shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”

“You didn’t do it for Captain Rogers?” A Senator asked.

Serena frowned. “How is that relevant to killing my father?”

“Many sources have reported that since the Triskelion was destroyed, you and Captain Rogers have been seen out together.” The Senator continued. “Some say it’s a conflict of interest.”

Serena smiled to herself. That was true. Since the Triskelion was destroyed, her and Steve had been practically inseparable. Steve finally got his wish in taking Serena to dinner, which she didn’t object to. Since then, they had become closer than ever before to the point where Steve has slept at Serena’s, and Serena’s had slept at Steve’s. Were they official yet? No, but were they close to being official? 100% yes. Plus, Steve had agreed to come to Serena’s cousin’s wedding in the Hamptons…they were basically official, though neither confirmed it…yet.

 “And what is the point, Senator?” Serena asked leaning forward, ready to challenge anyone who mentioned Steve, though in the back of her mind, she knew what question was coming her way.

“Are you an intimate relationship with Captain Rogers?” The Senator asked.

Serena sighed, she knew Steve was watching from his apartment, but the next words that would come out of her mouth, would place the entire country (and potentially her mother, brother…and possibly Steve) into Cardiac Arrest. She smiled, knowing the media firestorm she was going to cause, before uttering one single word.

“Yes.”

That’s when chaos occurred. The photographers started to shout and take more pictures of her, and the Senators looked at her in shock, still in disbelief that she admitted it.

“And with regards to my relationship with Captain Rogers.” Serena began, silencing the room. “That is none of your business, and I ask for you to respect our privacy. But with regards to him manipulating me into killing my father, he had nothing to do with it. I met Steve long before I ever thought about killing my father, and if anything, I’m forever grateful to him. He’s saved my life more than once, and no matter how hard I try, I could never repay him. The thoughts of killing my father came into my own head. I knew what was best for the country, and for the world, and whether you admit it or not, you all know it is true. So, arrest me for 3^rd degree murder, I don’t care, but just know, that Captain Rogers, had no effect on my conscience, only the situation at hand did. That’s why I was able to carry out every single mission in the CIA…I strike first.”

Like Natasha, Serena abruptly stood up before the committee could answer and walked out, knowing 3 days of being questioned by old people was annoying and useless. They wouldn’t dare arrest her…she’s done too much for the CIA, and too much for the country…plus she saved the world.

Within a matter of moments, she was ushered into a car, and driven to the airport, as she was meeting her mother, brother, and Maria to head to Rebecca’s wedding in the Hamptons. Finally having the time to look at her phone, she had received what felt like 1,000 notifications from all apps, including Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, texts, phone calls, and FaceTime calls. People were losing their minds. Serena opened Twitter to see her name as #1 on Trending. She smiled to herself as she leaned back into the cushions of her seat. This was going to happen at some point, and it was better to happen now rather than later.

3 Days Later

“To the Bride and Groom!” Everyone cheered as they raised their champagne glasses.

Serena smiled from her seat as she watched her family and friend’s dance. It was a warm night in the Hampton’s, and the while the wedding ceremony was indoors, the reception was outdoors and near the beach. She looked down at her bridesmaid dress, which was a one-shoulder powder blue number, she didn’t mind it, but she didn’t hate it (it would’ve been better in green). Her hair was done in a bun, with a couple of loose strands falling around her face, she was extremely happy for her cousin, but the events of the Triskelion were still heavily present in her mind.

“You ok?” A familiar voice asked making Serena turn slightly around to face her aunt.

She nodded. “As fine as I’ll ever be.”
Val smiled. “What you did on Capitol Hill…that takes some guts, I’m glad some of my teachings got through to you.”

“Of course.” Serena said letting out a laugh. “You and Uncle Everett prepared me for life.”

“That was the plan.” Val explained gesturing back to the dance floor, where Everett started to dance with Serena’s brother, Nick in a playful matter. Serena shook her head in amusement and disbelief.

“Listen.” Val began making Serena turn back to face her. “Your mom thinks she left her shawl out by the beach during the pictures, do you mind if you can go get it for her?”

Serena nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Serena carefully got up and started to walk to the beach. Before she hit the sand, she took her shoes off, so she wouldn’t sink, as it was difficult to walk with such a long gown. As she started to wander the beach looking for the scarf, she stopped and looked out to the ocean. Ever since she was little, she loved the ocean. She had never had the time to process the grief of what occurred over the last few weeks. She felt horrible that she killed her father, but at the same time, she’s grateful she found out that after all these years, he wanted her dead. It was bittersweet in a way, and the only thing that was calming her from having a full breakdown at this very moment, was watching the waves crash onto the beach.

“I now get why you love the ocean so much.” A familiar voice said.

She immediately snapped her head around to see Steve standing a few feet behind her, dressed in a black suit with a black tie.

She shook her head in disbelief. “What’re you doing here?”

“Your Aunt called and said you’ve been quote-on-quote ‘walking around all mopey like a sad lost puppy’.” He began making her roll her eyes. “She said I’m the only thing that would probably make you happy.”

“Did she say anything else?” Serena asked.

“She called me ‘The Fourth of July Stripper’.” He explained and she placed a palm to her head as he walked closer to her.
“That’s her way of saying ‘I like you, you should stick around’.” Serena explained.

Steve shook his head in disbelief before glancing back to the party that was happening on the hill. From where they were standing, they could hear music.

He gestured to the party. “Do you want to head back?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I don’t blame you.” He spoke. He fell silent before he said: “I saw the hearing.”

Serena blushed. “Sorry to put you on the spot.”

He smiled as he walked closer to her. “It’s fine, you did great, I’m proud that you stood your ground, but can I ask you something.”

“What?” She frowned in confusion, as she placed her hands on his chest.

His arms snaked around her waist as he gave her a soft smile.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Serena smiled before leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. As she pulled away her smile turned into a small smirk.

“Does that answer your question?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never done this.”

She let her head fall back as she laughed hard. Steve in response picked her up and spun her around, making her laugh even harder. It was the happiest she’s been since before everything with HYDRA went down, and it was the most he’d seen her smile since before she left for the Lemurian Star.

“I have something to tell you.” She began.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I got a job with the CIA again.” She continued. “But…I’m not going to be a Specialist.”
Steve frowned. “Why?”

She sighed. “After all of this, I need a break for a little bit. Work behind the scenes rather than on the front lines. Anyways, my mom and I recently made a deal for me to be a liaison within a subdivision…it took some convincing though.”

“Really?” He asked in curiosity.

“Yeah.” She nodded nonchalantly. “You’re right, Tony Stark is a real pain in the ass.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait, what?”

She smiled, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am the official CIA Liaison for the Avengers.”

Steve smiled and let out a small laugh. “Are you serious?”

She smiled and nodded before Steve pulled her into a kiss again. That’s when she realized that for the first time in the last 10 years, she loved every part of her life.

1 Week Later

Serena, Sam, and Steve stood in front of Fury’s grave looking at it in disbelief. Steve had an arm wrapped around Serena’s shoulder, and she had an arm around his waist.

“Do me a favor, please don’t make-out in front of me.” Sam began. “I can’t take that shit.”

Serena rolled her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re just jealous I didn’t have Maria play Beyonce over the coms.

“I’m mad at you for that.” Sam said pointing a finger at her making her let out a small laugh.

“So, you’ve experienced this sort of thing before?” Fury asked as he walked up to the trio.

Steve shrugged. “You get use to it.”

“We’ve been data mining HYDRA’s files. Looks like a lot of rats didn’t go down with the ship. I’m headed to Europe tonight. Wanted to ask if you’d come.”

Steve sighed, looking at the grave. “There’s a few things I got to do first.”

He looked to Serena. “Pierce?”

Serena looked to Steve and smiled before turning back to Fury and shaking her head. “Sorry, I’m going with him. He’s convincing.” She explained.

Fury nodded. “How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your abilities.”

Sam looked at Steve, thinking it over. “I’m more of a soldier than a spy,” he said.

“Alright, then. It’s probable you won’t see me, not for a long time. Things are bit too hot right now for me to be in the public eye.” Fury explained as he shook Steve and Sam’s hands before he gave Serena a hug.

“If Rogers hurts you, I’ll kill him in his sleep.” Fury whispered to her making her smile and shake her head before pointing to his gravestone. “Anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me, right here.”

As he walked away, Natasha approached the group.

“You two should be honored.” She began as she addressed Steve and Sam. “That’s about as close as he gets to saying thank you.”

Steve smiled. “Not going with him?”

“No,” she replied.

“Not staying here.”

She smiled. “Nah, I blew all my covers. I got to go figure out a new one.”

“That might take a while.” Serena pointed out.

“I’m counting on it.” She said as she let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry about Barnes.”

“Yeah, me too.” Steve said with a sigh as he wrapped his arm around Serena’s waist again.

“I’m glad you finally grew up.” She explained making Serena roll her eyes.

“Shut up.” Serena taunted playfully.

She took out a brown folder with Russian writing on it out of her jacket. “And that thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kyiv.”

Steve took it, and opened the folder, fearful of what was going to be inside. While doing this, Natasha gave Steve and Serena a hug before turning to walk away.

“Be careful Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread.” She warned.

Steve continued to open the folder, and on the first page was a picture of Barnes frozen in a cryo-stasis chamber.

“That’s intense.” Serena murmured.

“You’re going after him.” Sam explained.

“You don’t have to come with us.” Steve warned.

Sam nodded. “I know. When do we start?”

Notes:

Finally finished with CA:TWS. There will be a couple chapters before A:AOU. As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

2 Months Later

Location: Monte Carlo, Monaco

 

“Sometimes I think my job is easy because I look at what I was doing before, and I think to myself ‘oh this is so easy, I’m not getting shot at anymore’, but then I look at how today is going…and I think, ‘maybe getting shot at was easier’.” Serena explained to Maria as they swiped their Paddock Passes to enter the Monaco Grand Prix.

The two were currently in Monaco, with Serena’s mother and aunt to watch the Monaco Grand Prix, which was an annual tradition within Serena’s family, due to the large investments her mother’s family has within Formula 1.

“Do you miss being shot at that much?” Maria asked in disbelief.

She shrugged. “Sometimes…I miss the thrill. But, deep down, I’m glad I’m taking a break, gives me some time to relax.”

“I’m sure.” Maria smirked.

Serena frowned.

‘Here we go again.’ She thought to herself.

“Stop.” Serena ordered.

Maria put her hands up in defeat, but the smirk never left her face. Since Steve and Serena confirmed their relationship to each other, and since Serena basically told the entire world that she was in a relationship with Steve, Maria has been pressuring Serena into spilling the details of their relationship. Serena however, being the quiet-lipped person she was, didn’t budge at all.

“I’m not doing anything, but I need to know, how is it?” Maria asked leaning forward.

Serena frowned. “How’s what?”

“The sex?”

Serena’s frown deepened. “What did I just say?”

“Natasha is curious.” Maria explained.

Serena closed her eyes in frustration. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“Is it good?” Maria continued. “Is it bad? Is it indifferent?”

Serena let out a sigh. In the back of her mind, she knew this was going to happen, and in the long run she was happy that it was happening with confidentiality, as she knew Maria wouldn’t tell Natasha…that was just an excuse to make Serena spill.

Serena would never talk about what happened with her and Steve behind closed doors. But she did remark to herself that when they did have sex…Serena found herself having difficulty walking the next day.

In other words, sex with Steve was incredible.

But she’d never tell Maria.

“Maria.” Serena began.

“Serena.” Maria said in the same tone.

“Enough.” Serena explained crossing her arms.

Maria rolled her eyes, making Serena let out a small laugh as they walked past the various hospitality areas of the different teams. Serena loved Monaco this time of year, as it wasn’t too hot or too cold. She adjusted her small white bag over her shoulder, and flipped her hair so that it cascaded down her back. Because of how important her family was within Formula 1, or more so, her mother’s family, Serena had to look presentable at the races, especially for the cameras. So, the fact that she was there (especially after what happened in D.C. only two months prior), and the fact that she looked exceptional in her navy sleeveless shirt, white high-waisted long pants, and white sandals, the cameras were 100% going to be on her. As they turned down the paddock, and started to walk past the garages, Serena smirked behind her sunglasses as she pointed to the Stark Industries garage.

“Shouldn’t you be with them?” She playfully asked. “You’re one of them now.”

“I may be one of them, but I will always still work for Fury.” Maria explained quickly glancing at the garage. “He said he’s been hitting dead-ends with regards to everybody we’ve attempted to get something out of.”

“I’m not surprised.” Serena shrugged.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go with him.” Maria began. “You know, I thought you’d go with him, especially after everything that happened.”

Serena sighed. “Steve was more convincing. I’m slowly starting to learn how to finally understand how to process my emotions after being manipulated by my dad for my entire life, I…I guess I just wanted to kind of learn how to be myself for a little bit.”

Maria put an arm around Serena. “I’m proud of you Ser…but I’m surprised Rogers is not here.”

Serena sighed again. “He’s been going on a wild goose chase with Sam, following all potential leads on Barnes. I talked to him last night, he seems…”

“Petrified of the can of worms he opened?” Maria asked. “Nervous that Barnes is gone for good?”

“I was going to say tired, but sure, that works.” Serena groaned as she remembered her talk with Steve she had the night before.

 

Last Night

 

“How’s Monaco?” Steve asked from his position sitting on his apartment’s couch.

Serena shrugged. “It’s beautiful, as always…it’d be much better if you were here.”

Steve sighed. “I know, I’m sorry…I’ve been reading through these files and each page I read, I can’t bring myself to believe that he murdered all of those people.”
Serena sighed looking over Steve’s facial expression. He looked frustrated and tired, and even though she has only been gone for 3 days, she could tell that Steve was beginning to get burned out. Steve got a longing glance as he looked out the window, and based upon Steve’s facial expression, she knew his mind was coming a million miles a minute.

“Honey?” Serena asked calmly.

Steve immediately turned back to look Serena in the eyes. Even though she was across the ocean, he could still see the concern about his mental state based upon the tone of her voice, and her facial expression.

“I’m sorry.” Steve began. “It’s just…”
“It is not your fault.” Serena began. “I know you want to save everyone, but this job…it makes it difficult to save everyone. I know how much Barnes means to you, but you need to take a breather for a little bit. Relax, and get some sleep, you look horrible.”

He let out a small laugh as he closed his eyes. “It’s easier said than done Ser.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I know, but deep down, I know that you need to take time for yourself. Especially after everything that’s happened.”

“That comment can go both ways.” Steve countered playfully.

Serena smiled and gestured to all the features in her hotel room. “Why do you think I’m in Monaco, and not at my desk?”

“I wish I could be there with you.” Steve remarked as he leaned back into the couch.

Just as Serena was about to reply, Molly jumped onto the couch, and settled into Steve’s lap. Steve smiled at the dog, and gave it a hug, making Serena roll her eyes.

“I feel betrayed.” Serena remarked watching the exchange. “I may be her owner, but you are her master.”

Steve shrugged. “I have a way with animals.”

Serena rolled her eyes before glancing at the time on the wall. It was almost 12:30 in the morning.
“I have to go, I hate to call it a night, as I do enjoy these talks of ours, but I have to go…I have to get up early.” She explained.

“What time is the race?” He asked.

“3:00, but I have to be there early, something about an FIA brunch, and because my mother and my aunt are two investors, I have no choice.” She continued. “Plus, Rihanna is supposed to be here, and I can’t miss meeting Rihanna.”

Steve sighed and nodded. “Alright, I’ll let you go. Please be safe, don’t do anything stupid, and please don’t get shot at.”

She rolled her eyes as she concealed a laugh. “No promises.”

Steve let out a laugh, as he shook his head in disbelief. “I’m serious.”

She nodded before rolling her eyes. Even though he was joking with her, the look in his eyes showed that he was concerned. He wanted nothing to happen to her.

“I love you.” Steve said with concern.

She gave him a small smile. “I love you too.”

“Sleep well, Sweetheart.” He explained before turning the phone off.

 

Present Day

 

“I wonder if Paul is here.” Maria said glancing at the Force India garage.

Serena groaned. “Paul retired at the end of last season…thank God. I don’t want to see him.”

“What, you don’t want to rub your incredibly good-looking, symbol of America, charming, war-hero, of a boyfriend in your ex’s face?” Maria asked in disbelief.

“That was the old Serena.” Serena countered as they went up the stairs to the investors lounge, and once they were inside, she took off her sunglasses and placed them on her head. “This is the new Serena.”

“We love a re-brand.” Maria replied with a smirk as they turned the corner into the lounge. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is the man talking to your mother, an exact clone of Rogers, or am I dreaming?”

Serena’s eyes widened as she practically ran to Steve, who in return engulfed her in his arms and began to repetitively kiss her cheek. After pulling away from each other, Serena still couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“What’re you doing here?” She asked in disbelief.

“I decided, I needed to relax.” Steve explained.

She shook her head in disbelief as she looked to her mother. “Did you know about this?”

Felicita shook her head. “No.”

“I called in a favor from Stark.” Steve explained. “He owes me one.”

Serena smiled before giving him a small kiss on the lips. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

Steve pulled her into another hug and kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”
“No one’s happy that I’m here?” Another voice asked making Steve groan.

Serena turned around to see Sam, drink in hand, covered head-to-toe in Lewis Hamilton merchandise.

“You came too?” Serena asked in disbelief.

“Why’re you acting like you’re not happy I’m here?” Sam began.

Serena shrugged. “I didn’t expect you to come too…nor did I expect you to be a Hamilton fan.”

“Been watching him since he’s been with McLaren.” Sam explained.

Serena smirked. “Want to meet him?”
“Are you for real?” Sam asked in disbelief. He looked to Steve, Felicita, and Maria. “Is she for real?”

“She’s for real.” Maria and Felicita explained.

“She’s 100% not joking.” Steve nodded.

“This isn’t a prank?” Sam began, still in disbelief.

Serena sighed in annoyance before putting her sunglasses on, as she began heading toward the door.

“Where is she going?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to go and see Lewis, with or without you.” Serena smirked over her shoulder.

Sam, who was frozen in her place, practically ran after her, before skipping down the stairs, to head to the Mercedes garage with Serena.

 

Later That Evening

 

Sam was in his glory the entire day. After getting a tour of the Mercedes garage from Lewis Hamilton himself, and having him sign all his apparel, Sam lost all vocal function when Mercedes was 1-2 in the race. He didn’t even care that Lewis didn’t win, he was just happy he got to meet him, AND he knew who he was. While Maria, Sam, and Felicita, decided to head out and celebrate with the winning team (as such investors do), Steve and Serena decided to retreat to Serena’s room to get some alone time together.

Serena was lying flat on her back in her bed, with Steve laying on his stomach, but resting his chin on her stomach, so he could look her in the eyes. Occasionally Serena would lazily draw patterns on Steve’s bare shoulder, and Steve would do the same on Serena’s bare, toned stomach. While they didn’t have sex when they got back due to exhaustion from the day, but they were too lazy to change into their pajamas to head to bed, hence why they were both in their underwear.

“Tired?” Steve asked, laying a gentle kiss on her stomach.

Serena closed her eyes and nodded. “It’s been a weekend…but I’m glad you’re here.”

He smiled. “Me too.”
Just as Serena was about to reply, Steve’s phone began to ring. Steve groaned in annoyance making Serena giggle as he reached over to the end-table to grab his phone. He frowned when he saw the contact’s name: Tony Stark.

Serena shrugged before Steve answered the phone and placed it on speaker.

“Hello?” Steve asked calmly.

“Capsicle, I hope you made it to the land of my people.” Tony explained.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thank you again, and yes I did.”

“I’m sure Serendipity must’ve screamed when she saw you.” Tony continued.

Serena frowned in confusion and Steve gave her a small kiss to make the frown go away.

“What do you want Tony?” Steve groaned, not happy that he was calling during their alone time.

“Hang on. Are you with Serendipity now?” Tony asked and Steve could tell he was smiling through the phone.

“Tony, what do you want?” Steve groaned again.

“Listen, Fury gave me some insight into some potential HYDRA facilities…evidently Loki’s Scepter is lost, and Fury thinks it’s under HYDRA somewhere. How soon can you get to the Tower?” He asked.

Steve looked to Serena who shrugged.

“I am on vacation.” Steve explained.

“C’mon Cap, you don’t take vacations.” Tony began in disbelief. “Everyone knows that.”

“Not on my watch.” Serena murmured.

“Is that you, Miss Pierce!” Tony exclaimed with joy. “Oh, how I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

“Tony, I will be at the tower in a week.” Steve explained. “I am going back to bed.”
“Sure you are.” Tony replied suggestively.

“Goodnight.” Serena and Steve groaned as Steve practically threw the phone across the room.

“Never a dull moment.” Steve began rolling onto his side, to face Serena.

She shook her head. “Never a dull moment.”

"LEWIS HAMILTON!" Sam screamed from the hallway, signifying he had returned from a night of partying and was indeed drunk.

Notes:

As always, let me know if you would like to see anything specific, and if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. We are still a few chapters away until A: AOU starts.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

2 Weeks Later

Location: Manhattan, New York

Serena sighed in annoyance as she glanced over the Manhattan skyline, from her desk. It was beautiful this time of night, but then again, it was around midnight, and she was tired. She was currently in her office, in the new and improved Avengers Tower, and had officially started to realize, how boring working behind the scenes was. While her family and Steve were happy, she wasn’t in the field, Serena genuinely missed the action. She secretly wanted to go with the rest of the Avengers on the hunt for the scepter, and or taking down HYDRA. All she’d come to known in the recent years was to operate in the field, so for her to be parked behind a desk…felt foreign to her.

She turned back towards her desk, and just as she was about to get back to work, she glanced at the framed picture of her and Steve on her desk. The picture was taken the day of the Monaco Grand Prix, with the two of them sitting next to each other, with Steve’s arm around Serena’s waist, and the two of them were smiling ear-to-ear. A knock at the door snapped out of her thoughts.

Her head immediately snapped up to see Maria with two mugs in hand.

“Tea?” She asked with a smile as she walked toward her.

“Sure.” Serena smiled back, accepting the mug.

“You alright?” Maria asked taking a seat on the other side of the desk.

Serena shrugged. “I guess…any news?”

Maria shook her head. “No. They landed about two hours ago. JARVIS is monitoring it.”

Serena sighed. Since they’d got back from Monaco, the Avengers were all called in to hunt for Loki’s scepter, as it has been taken into one of HYDRA’s bases…the only problem, was where in the world it was. So far, they had narrowed it down to 5 potential bases. Guadalajara, Osaka, Mumbai, Sudan, and Sokovia. They had taken down the bases in Guadalajara and Osaka, so they were all hoping it’d be 3^rd times the charm in Mumbai.

“I’m still not use to that.” Serena said blandly. “JARVIS…I mean.”

“No, me too.” Maria said with the same tone, knowing the two of them, felt like they were being always watched by someone…or rather something. “Want to go monitor their progress?”

Serena stood up from her desk and grabbed her mug. “Sure.”

As Maria led the two of them out of Serena’s office and down various corridors of the tower, Serena began to realize that this was her life now. She’ll never be a field-agent again. SHIELD was gone. Her father was gone. Her entire previous life was gone. The only thing that she could salvage from her past life, was her job with the CIA, but even then, she was a liaison, not a field-agent. That’s when she began to realize, that maybe she made the wrong choice of sitting out and doing nothing.

She felt useless.

Empty.

Depressed.

She needed action.

But deep down, she knew she would never admit it. She’d upset everyone she loves.

She shook those thoughts out of her head as she took a seat around the control panel, where Maria could monitor the trackers in the suit…plus have access to some of the coms if they patched through to her.

“I talked to Coulson.” Maria explained breaking the silence.

“How’s he doing?” Serena hummed.

She shrugged. “Same old, same old. Growing his operation…which is good.”

Serena nodded. “Most definitely. I miss him, I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“It’s because he’s supposed to be dead Ser.” Maria explained.

Serena’s head bopped from side-to-side. “True.”

“You alright?” Maria asked, seeing Serena’s distance and spacy attitude.

Serena shrugged. “I’m tired.”

She lied. She wasn’t tired, she just longed for the action.

She hated lying, especially to her best friend, but she would never fully admit how much she wanted to get shot at again.

“Agent Hill, Agent Pierce.” JARVIS began. “Mr. Stark would like to inform you both that the scepter has not been found in Mumbai, and they are returning back to the tower as we speak.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Maria explained before turning to Serena. “Why don’t you head to bed, Ser. It’s going to be a couple hours before they get back.”

Serena glanced to Molly, who was laying across Stark’s expensive couch and smiled. She was over it too.

“Alright, goodnight.” Serena explained as she walked to the elevator. “C’mon Molly.”

Molly immediately jumped off the couch and followed Serena into the elevator.

“Night.” Maria called as the elevator doors shut.

As soon as the doors shut, Serena sighed in exhaustion allowing her body to slump against the back of the elevator. She had enough and was ready to sleep. As soon as the elevator doors opened into her and Steve’s apartment, she lazily walked into their bedroom, pulled out her pajamas for the night, turned on the TV to keep Molly company, who had already jumped on her bed, before walking into the bathroom attached to their bedroom, and turning on the shower. After a day like today, she needed a shower.

Once her shower was over, she brushed her teeth, did her skincare for the evening, before climbing into bed, alongside Molly. She lowered the TV volume before changing the channel to CNN to see if there were any reports on the raid in Mumbai…thankfully, there weren’t any…yet.

Serena left the TV on as she snuggled into Steve’s pillow, inhaling it’s sent, to try and bring her some sort of comfort and reassurance.

 That’s another thing she hated. She hated the fear. The fear of the unknown. The fear of not knowing if Steve was going to come back. At least when she and Steve were working together on STRIKE, they knew where each other were at the exact time, and knew if one wasn’t going to make it…now with Steve going on missions with the Avengers, and Serena staying at the tower…Serena lived with the fear that they’d return from a mission with Steve’s dead body.

In other words, her anxiety and fear of the unknown was through the roof.

But she’d never let them know that.

3 Hours Later

Steve exited the Quinjet, helmet in hand, in utter disgust and annoyance. The third HYDRA raid, and the third time they returned with no scepter. He was getting annoyed and frustrated at the fact that they kept raiding bases, but no prize. He was exhausted, as they had to plan the raid, execute it, and then come all the way back.

He’d hate to admit it, but…he was too old for this.

Maria met him at the base of the Quinjet with a tablet in hand.

“Success?” She asked as they began to walk inside.

Steve shrugged. “If by success you mean another HYDRA based destroyed and no scepter then yes.”

“At least it’s one less to worry about.” Maria continued. “When do you want to ship out to the Sudan?”

“Not for a couple days.” Steve explained fighting back a yawn. “I need time to plan. Has Thor arrived yet?”

Maria shook her head. “No, it’s hard to send text messages to someone in Asgard…they need to upgrade their WiFi.”

Steve shook his head as they walked into the elevator.

“Where’s Serena?” He asked.

“She went to bed a couple hours ago.” Maria explained. “She was exhausted…but I think something else is going on.”

“How so?” Steve asked, now fully concerned.

“She’s been…spacy. Like, longing for something. I think she misses being in the field.” Maria sighed.

Steve sighed. He knew this was going to happen. While he was grateful that Serena was parked safely behind a desk, he knew in the back of his mind that she craved excitement. She always has. He saw how her eyes lit up during mission briefings when they were on STRIKE, he saw how happy she was watching cars go around the track in Monaco…the girl was an adrenaline junkie. She was board out of her mind, behind that desk.

But she was safe.

And in Steve’s mind, that gave him less to worry about.

Every time he left her, he worried about her.

He worried about her mental state, when he’d return, as he didn’t want to come home severely injured or dead. He’d hate to do that to her. He loved her too much.

“I’ll talk to her.” He explained as the elevator arrived on his apartment’s floor. “Goodnight Hill.”

“Night, Captain.” She replied before the elevator doors closed.

Steve carefully walked through their apartment, not knowing where Serena was sleeping, but then his thoughts were clarified when he heard the low volume of the TV. Not wanting to wake her, he slowly opened their bedroom door, and was met by Molly, who was already waiting for him, tail wagging rapidly.

“Hi Molls. Have you been keeping our girl safe?” He quietly asked, kneeling on the floor to pet the dog, he’d come to love so much.

The dog in response licked his face, not caring that Steve was sweaty and smelled of blood…that wasn’t his own. Steve slowly stood up and walked into the bathroom to take a shower, knowing how much Serena hated if he’d come and sleep in their clean bed, all sweaty and covered in dirt and grime. Serena hated it.

Eventually, after he brushed his teeth, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and walked out of the bathroom, not bothering to dry his damp hair, and or put on a shirt. From the dim light of the bathroom, he saw Serena’s back facing him, sound asleep on her side of the bed.

Not wanting to wake her, he carefully slid into bed next to her, and gestured for Molly to jump on the bed. Molly obliged and settled down by his feet. Steve carefully draped his arms around Serena, and pulled her close, Serena however, was in such a deep sleep, that she didn’t even roll over and acknowledge him, like she did on past missions. Within a matter of moments, exhaustion took over him, and he fell right asleep.

The Next Morning

Serena groaned as she woke up…to an empty bed. She frowned in confusion as she slowly sat up, biting back a yawn. Her eyes narrowed, when she saw the Steve’s crumpled Captain America uniform thrown on the floor by the bathroom. Just when she was about to wonder where the man in question was, she heard Molly barking from the living room, indicating that Steve was back, based upon how loud and how much Molly was barking.

She moved to the edge of the bed, to put her robe on over her tank-top and sleeping short, along with putting her slippers on her feet before she opened the door and began to walk down the hall.

From Steve’s position in the kitchen, he heard the door open and looked to Molly.

“Go get Ser.” He instructed. “Go on. Go get Ser.”

Molly ran down the hall, and in response Serena knelt to meet the dog.

“Is your buddy back?” He heard Serena say in a slightly high-pitched voice.

He shook his head in amusement as the dog came running back with Serena walking behind her. Steve’s back was facing her, as he was pouring coffee for the two of them. So, when Steve came into Serena’s view, she was met with his shirtless back…but she wasn’t complaining.

“Hi.” Serena began walking alongside him and hugging him from behind.

“Hi.” He replied before turning around to give her a soft kiss. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” She hummed. “What time did you guys get in?”

“Around 4…another bust.” He explained handing her a mug of coffee.

“I’m sorry.” She said with a small frown.

“It’s fine.” He shrugged. “It’s just getting annoying. It’s good that we’re getting rid of the bases, but…”

“No scepter.” Serena finished and he nodded. “It probably doesn’t help that the one person with connections to the scepter, or at least the person who last used the scepter is in another dimension.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed. “It doesn’t.”

Serena began to stare off into space, looking into her mug, when Steve’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Serena?” He asked.

“Hm?” She asked looking up to meet his blue eyes.

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked.

Serena didn’t reply but just took a sip from her coffee. This was the talk she didn’t want to have.

“Hill said you’ve been spacing out recently.” He began. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

She didn’t reply but continued to stare off into space. Almost like she was removing herself from the equation. If Steve wanted to start this conversation, fine…but he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“Baby.” He practically whispered, making her eyes meet his. “You can tell me.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. She knew this could potentially cause an issue in their relationship, but at the same time, it might not.

She opened her eyes. “I miss it.”

“You miss what?” He asked, although he knew what she was going to say.

“Being in the field.” She began.

Steve sighed placing his mug on the counter, before placing his hands on her waist.

“Ser.” He began.

“I’m not cut out for being behind a desk 24/7.” She explained. “I was trained to be in the field, not behind filing papers. I miss the action, Steve. You don’t know how much I miss it. I know you want me to be safe, but…I miss being out there. I miss being by your side.”

“But you’re safer here.” He explained.

“But my anxiety goes through the roof when I’m not with you.” She continued. “I worry when you leave, because I don’t know if you’re coming back to me or not.”

“I’ll always come back to you.” He explained.

“Alive or dead?” She asked making him sigh. “You’re not always careful…don’t you think I worry?”

“And don’t you think I worry about you when I leave?” He asked. “I worry about you, just as much as you worry about me.”

Serena closed her eyes and sighed, before leaning into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, into a hug.

Steve placed a kiss on the top of her head. Both worried about each other. Both had anxiety about each other.

“I love you; you know that right?” Steve spoke into her hair.

She nodded. “I know.”

“I need a psychiatrist.” Serena murmured.

“That makes two of us.” Steve mumbled into her hair.

And in that moment, both realized that after all they endured over the years, that they might need therapy for all the trauma and anxiety that they experience both apart and together.

Notes:

As always, let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see, and if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Flashback: 3 Years Ago (2011)

Serena’s Age: 22 Years Old

Location: Washington, D.C.

“How are you feeling after the mission? What are your general thoughts?” Dr. Andrew Garner asked, as he sat across from Serena.

Since Serena returned from Turkmenistan, the only survivor of raiding the terrorist’s compound, she was sent to undergo a mental evaluation from one of the CIA’s approved psychiatrists. She wasn’t in the mood, and all she wanted to do was collapse in her bed and sleep her tibia fracture away.

Serena simply shrugged.

Andrew sighed. He knew speaking to her was tough, after everything she’s witnessed at such a young age, especially after losing her entire team, and her being the only survivor. From looking at her, he could tell she was tired. Her eyes had deep dark circles, and she did her best to cover up some of the bruising on her face, but nothing could cover the lacerations she had on her face. Her lower right leg had a boot on it, and she was using crutches to get around due to a shattered tibia, and she had a brace around her left wrist, as she dislocated it.

“Serena, I know you lost your partner. I know it’s difficult to speak about.” Andrew began.

“He was a moron.” Serena replied. “He let himself fall open. He died for it. He’s a fucking idiot.”

Andrew sighed. The girl had no emotion. She was cold, calculating, and inscrutable with regards to those who died on missions. He knew this based upon things he heard from the other psychiatrists who have done her mental evaluation.

“Agent Pierce, I understand where you are coming from, and I know you are angry.” Andrew began calmly.

“Angry?” Serena asked, eyes darkening with fury. “I’m fucking furious.”
“Why?” Andrew asked calmly.

“HE DISOBEYED MY ORDERS!” She shouted from her chair, leaning forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Mark was the biggest fucking idiot! He always disobeyed my orders, and he never followed my lead! And look where it ended up! He’s fucking dead, and I’m not.”

Andrew sighed. She was difficult. She was emotionless. But he didn’t know if that was because she was just playing a part or was it because she was trained to be emotionless. He took into consideration the fact that she was taken as a hostage when she was 5, but at the same time, took into every major event that has plagued her life. All her CIA missions, her ballet career ending before she joined the CIA, and every family health issue she delt with as well.
That’s when he realized it.

The girl wasn’t emotionless.

That was the way she hid her inner troubles.

She had issues.

Anxiety, depression, potentially PTSD…she hid it by being emotionless.

“Alright.” Andrew began, folding his binder of notes. “I think we’re done for today.”

“Can I go home now?” Serena asked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Thank fucking god.” Serena groaned as she grabbed her crutches, stood up from her chair, and hobbled out of the room.

Once she left, Andrew sat back in his chair and realized that she didn’t know that he knows, that she knows that she’s hiding her inner troubles by not showing emotions. He knew, if he wrote the truth, she’d be placed on a leave of absence, making her potentially go insane. That’s when he decided to write the truth of what he saw.

‘Agent Pierce shows signs of slight withdrawal. However based upon her expressions, it has come to show that she is emotionless, cold, inscrutable, and hard-hearted.’ Andrew typed into the computer before sending it to Serena’s mother, who was her superior.

He’d never let them know, that he knows what she really was going through.

After all, she’s been through enough already.

Present Day

Location: Manhattan, New York

“2 cups of flour.” Serena murmured to herself as she measured a cup of flour before adding it to her bowel of wet ingredients, before using the stand mixer on the kitchen counter to blend the ingredients.

Since the talk she had with Steve last week, they haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye. While they didn’t physically argue, nor scream at each other, they still were in a disagreement. No one ever noticed it though, as the two of them were good at hiding their frustrations with each other. Steve didn’t want Serena to be in danger and Serena wanted to go back into the danger.

Because Steve hasn’t made up his mind on allowing Serena to join the team, Serena had been preoccupying herself with other things to try and keep her mind off of thinking about dangerous situations. Those things included playing piano (which she 100% hated to do when people were around), starting to take up ballet again (though she wouldn’t be as strong at it as she use to be), and baking…even though the later was not her favorite thing to do either.

So right now, while the rest of the team (minus Thor, as he hasn’t arrived) was in a meeting that Maria was conducting, Serena was taking a crack at making Brioche Custard Tarts, which was one of her favorite deserts to have whenever she was in France or Monaco.

It felt calming to her, and it took her mind off wanting to scream at Steve and beg him to let her in the field.

So here she was, wireless earbuds in her ears, listening to Taylor Swift’s new album, needing her newly formed brioche dough…not a care in the world…but there was a lot on her mind.

Just as she placed the dough into a bowl, to allow it to rise, she heard the elevator doors ping, meaning someone was on the floor. The only people who came up on this floor was Maria, Steve (because he lived here), and Natasha (only on occasion when she couldn’t find Steve). So, when she saw Steve walk into the living room, not even noticing her at the kitchen counter, she wasn’t surprised…they weren’t talking after all.

Steve only noticed Serena, after she placed another pair of bowls on the counter, and practically jumped when he saw her standing at the counter, black apron around her waist, completely ignoring him. He immediately got up off the couch and walked over the to the kitchen island and sat down on the other side of it so he could face her.

She continued to ignore him as she separated the egg-whites from the egg yolks, and only when she realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off, her was when she paused what she was doing to look him in the eyes.

“Hi.” Steve said cautiously.

Serena responded by taking her wireless earbuds out of her ears and placed them into the pocket of her leggings.

“What do you want, Steve?” She asked before adding sugar to the egg yolks, to start making her custard.

“I-I…” He began but couldn’t stutter out the words.

“You what?” She asked as she began to whisk the eggs and sugar together.

“I wanted to ask what you were doing.” He explained watching her movements. “Or what you’re making.”

“Brioche custard tarts.” She explained.

A small smile came on Steve’s face. “Your favorite.”

She nodded, and he noticed a small smile come onto her face.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out

“For what?” She asked, continuing to whisk the mixture.

“For last week.” He continued.

Her movements completely stopped, and she lifted her head up, which finally allowed him to make eye contact with her emerald eyes.

“Steve.” She spoke softly.

“No, listen.” He began as he walked around the counter to talk to her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for last week. It’s just…I’ve already lost Bucky…I-I…I can’t lose you too.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing that he was petrified of losing her. Just as how petrified she was of losing him.

“I can’t lose you either. But you need to trust me, you know I can handle myself.” She explained as he placed his hands on her waist. “You and I both know we work better together, and to be honest, I am losing my mind.”

“I know you are.” He explained. “You’ve made two cakes, cream puffs, and muffins all in 3 days.”

She let out a small laugh as she placed her hands gently on his chest.

“I’ve even started playing piano again.” She explained.

“I know. That’s when I knew you really were losing it.” He said with a small smile making her shake her head in annoyance. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“One that I’ll like?” She asked.

“Perhaps.” He explained. “We leave for Sudan early tomorrow…you can’t come on that one, but you can come with us, if it’s a bust.”

“I can go with you to Sokovia?” She asked in disbelief.

He nodded. “Sokovia…I know that’s not exactly what you wanted but, I figured…”

He was silence by her placing a kiss on his lips. She smiled when they pulled away.

“Deal, but you are going to have to make a deal with me.” She said in the same tone he used before.

“One that I’ll like?” He asked with a small laugh.

Her head tilted back and forth. “Possibly.”

“I’m all ears.” He said pulling away from her so he could cross his arms and lean back against the counter.

“You stop being so reckless.” She said placing her right hand against the counter and left hand on her hip.

Steve sighed and looked at the ground. “That’s going to be tough.”

“I swear to God, if you blame that damn serum.” Serena scolded.

“Watch your language.” Steve said seriously making Serena burst out laughing in his face.

While they had been dating for almost 3 months, and friends for almost a year, no matter how hard Serena told Steve it was ok to curse occasionally, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“I will try to be less reckless.” He explained. “But I have another deal.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Want to go out to dinner tonight?” He asked, uncrossing his arms, and resting them against the back of the counter.

“You never go out the night before a mission.” She explained, now fully knowing how Steve’s mind operates.

He nodded. “I know, but…I figured…after the week we’ve both had, we need to get out of this place.”

She nodded. “I agree. What time?”

“7:00, and I didn’t plan anything, so we can go wherever you want.” He explained.

She smiled before picking up the whisk again. “Sounds great. Can you do me one thing though?”

“What?” He asked.

“Help me finish these?” She asked.

He let out a small laugh before nodding, knowing if he helped, the sooner he’d get to having some freshly made brioche tarts.

Later

As promised, Steve took Serena to dinner, exactly at 7:00. Serena didn’t want to go anywhere so they settled on a small dive bar on the East Side.

It was perfect. They didn’t talk about work at all, they talked about each other, their relationship, what they both want, and that they both need a vacation, but where, would have to be determined.

“What about the Maldives?” She asked as they walked back into the tower together. “Have you ever been?”

He shook his head. “No, but don’t wear any diamond earrings.”

Serena busted out laughing, as she realized he made a reality TV reference.

“I am so proud of you.” She explained as they walked into the elevator. “The fact that you just referenced an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians, proves that I have rubbed off on you.”

“Captain, Agent Pierce, Mr. Stark is requesting your presence on the main floor.” JARVIS said.

“Tell him we’ll be right there.” Steve groaned as he wrapped an arm around Serena.

Serena sighed as she leaned into his embrace, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“I guess there goes our plans.” He murmured into her hair.

“It’s only 10:30.” She explained. “We’ve got plenty of time to do what you said at dinner.”

“I wanted to do it a couple times.” He murmured. “And you know I respect you, very highly.”

“I know.” She sighed.

“Good, because what I had in mind for tonight was going to make it seem like I didn’t.” He explained gripping her waist tightly.

Serena’s soft expression turned into a blush, followed by a smirk. “Sounds like fun.”

That’s when the doors opened, and her once playful expression turned into a cold one, as they walked out of the elevator. Once they were in the main living room, they noticed the entire team, including Maria, sitting around.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“We’ve got new intel on the Sudan facility.” Clint explained from his position on one of the couches.

“Good or bad?” Steve asked.

“Good.” Bruce explained. “There’s this female scientist, who originally worked for SHIELD, who now works for HYDRA that’s running the facility. Dr. Jenson they call her…her SHIELD profile doesn’t even have her first name, but evidently, she has some ties to the scepter, which leads us to believe that maybe she’ll have some idea where the scepter could be…if it’s not with her.”

“The only problem is that she was appointed to study Chitahuri tech, which means…” Tony trailed off.

“More of a firefight for us.” Natasha groaned leaning back.

“Are there any files on the facility?” Serena asked. “Anything at all?”

Maria shook her head. “I checked everywhere. This one was off the radar, all we have is plans from the internet, as it was a WWII bunker that HYDRA used, but then again, we don’t know the upgrades.”

“So, you’re all going in blind?” Serena asked and they all nodded. “Great.”

The sarcasm in her voice was impeccable.

“Cap, it’s your call.” Tony explained looking to Steve.

Steve sighed. He had a long day and was too tired to figure it out now.

“Everyone go to bed, we meet back here at 8:00. No sooner, no later. I’ll have something by then.” Steve ordered before grabbing Serena’s hand and guiding her to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors closed, Steve leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. Tomorrow could either go really well, or really bad, fast.

“So, I guess we’re not doing the stuff you said at dinner?” Serena asked making him open his eyes to look at her.

“Give me 15 minutes, to figure out what we’re doing tomorrow. And then we are definitely doing what I said.” He explained with a small smile.

She rolled her eyes in amusement, trying to ignore the feeling of regret of not going to Sudan the next day.

A/N:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Notes:

As always let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Present Day

“So, you’re stationed in Africa now?” Serena asked via video conference with her brother.

She had decided to do work in her office, as Steve and the rest of the Avengers, including Thor, who scared the living hell out of everyone when he arrived, were in The Sudan catching a lead on where Loki’s Scepter was. Her brother, Nick, who hadn’t seen his sister since their cousin’s wedding, was curious as to how the hunt for the Scepter was going…and so far, based upon what she told him…he was shocked at how many busts the Avengers had.

“Yeah.” Nick said with a nod. “It’s not too bad, they put me in a nice area of Wakanda.”

“Right.” Serena said with an eyeroll. “I forgot that you’re besties with the Prince of Wakanda.”

Nick frowned. “We’re not besties. We’re close associates and have known each other for the past 10 years, and he considers me to be his brother.”

Serena was silent for a moment as she looked at her brother.

“So, you’re besties then?”

Nick groaned, making his younger sister laugh in amusement. While Nick and Serena had a 10-year age gap, they were still closer than one would believe. Nick always called Serena to ensure she was ok, especially after tough missions, and whenever Serena could get the chance, she called Nick. Nick always protected her (the best he could), and Serena, always was the defiant younger sister. While the two were siblings, they looked nothing alike, as Serena looked like their mother, Nick looked like their father.

“On another note, are you ok?” Nick asked turning serious.

Serena shrugged. “Yeah, why?”

“Mom called me.” Nick explained. “She said that Steve told her, that you are going into a dark place.”

“What?” Serena asked in disbelief. “I’m not going to a dark place.”

“She said that Steve said you made 2 cakes, cream puffs, muffins, and cream tarts in the span of less than a week.” Nick explained.

“So?” Serena shrugged.

“Ser, you hate to bake.” Nick continued. “And she also said that you’re playing piano…in kind of public, which we all know is not your thing.”

Serena sighed. “I’m fine, I’ve talked to Steve, and I’m going back into the field if this is a bust and- “

“You’re going back into the field!” He said in disbelief. “Serena, you’re a liaison. You’re not supposed to be operating in the field.”

“It’s fine.” She explained. “I’m fine. Nick you and I both know I can handle myself.”

“It’s not the fact of you handling yourself.” Nick began. “It’s the fact that the last couple of times you were in the field, you got hurt…bad.”

“I’ll be fine.” She continued. “Trust me. I can handle myself.”

Nick sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. If he could describe his sister in one word: stubborn. No wonder she and Steve got along so well.

“Alright.” He said with a nod. “Let me know if things go south.”

She nodded. “I will. Talk soon.”

He gave her one more firm nod, before ending the call. She leaned back into her desk chair and let out a frustrated sigh. She hated the desk job. The reason why she took it? Her mother forced her. She didn’t mind some parts to it, like working alongside Maria, but she longed for the action. She was trained to be a Specialist.

She stretched her back as her muscles ached from the night before.

‘I should’ve slept longer.’ She thought to herself.

But it wasn’t possible, as by the time she and Steve got done with their many, many rounds of make-up sex, they essentially got only a few hours of sleep before Steve had to leave.

As soon as they got back to their apartment last night, Steve basically wouldn’t allow her to leave their bed, and essentially did an a full-fledged, consented, assault on her body. That entire night, Steve loved Serena, like he hadn’t before. He felt it was necessary given that they hadn’t spoken in a week, and essentially was his way of saying I’m sorry…but Serena didn’t mind.

As she leaned back into her desk chair, she remembered the events of last night. She was certain Steve hadn’t left a part of her untouched, that he kissed every single part of her body, that he whispered that he loved her about a thousand times, and how he quietly moaned her name when she returned the favor to him.

And with the number of times, they did it (she counted at least 4 and were about to do a 5^th, before she tapped out explaining she was tired), Serena truly believed that her flexibility was extended in ways she didn’t think was possible, the way Steve bended her body.

She also still couldn’t believe how fast Steve recovered after each round. With past boyfriends that she had, she was lucky if she got two rounds out of them. Now, the tables have turned, and Steve was lucky to get a 3^rd or 4^th round out of her. Sometimes she felt like Steve would break her…but again…she could care less if he did.

Actually, she preferred if he did…she didn’t care if it hurt.

It was a pleasurable pain.

One that she thoroughly enjoyed.

But through it all, no matter how much Steve drove her insane sometimes, she still loved him. And no matter how much Serena drove Steve insane, he still loved her.

What snapped her out of her thoughts, was a notification on her phone from Maria saying that they had returned. Serena frowned in confusion as she quickly glanced at the time, realizing it was mid-afternoon. She hadn’t expected them to be back so quick. They must’ve either gotten the Scepter, or it was another bust. Secretly, she hoped it was another bust.

She got up from her desk and exited her office to head toward the Quinjet landing bay. She was completely silent on the way up there, the only thing making noise was the sound of her black ankle heeled boots clacking down the hallway. Since she had no meetings today, she dressed more casual with a sleeveless black turtleneck sweater, and a pair of dark skinny jeans.

As she stepped onto the elevator, she pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, and took a deep breath, as she didn’t know what to expect when she stepped off that elevator. She closed her eyes and prayed that everything went ok…but also had secretly hoped that they hadn’t gotten the Scepter so she could go back into the field.

As soon as the elevator dinged, her eyes opened along with the doors, to reveal the Quinjet backing into the bay.

“And?” Serena asked as she walked up to Maria who handed her a tablet.

“Nothing.” Maria explained.

Serena’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Maria began. “They destroyed Jenson’s facility, evidently Barton destroyed it.”

“Was there a Code: Green?” Serena questioned, as she began to scroll through the information collected on the mission, while the back door to the Quinjet opened.

“Yes, Banner was attacked by some of HYDRA’s thugs.” Maria continued glancing up from her tablet to see Barton walking toward them.

Serena looked over his facial expression in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I gotta call my wife. Tell her I’m sticking around for a while.” Clint explained in annoyance pointing to the Quinjet. “They’re idiots.”

“Say hi to Laura and the kids for us.” Serena explained watching him walk towards the elevators in exhaustion before seeing Natasha out of the corner of her eye coming towards her.

“Mission unsuccessful, but we’ve got a lead on where it might be.” Natasha explained.

“Sokovia.” Maria confirmed.

Natasha nodded. “Hopefully, the last thing we need is another faulty base with stupid arms dealers. Here you’re coming to Sokovia.”

Serena smiled. “I can’t wait. I’ve been bored out of my mind filing papers and researching. I can’t wait.”

Natasha smiled. “Neither can I.”

“Take her…she’s been a sad sack.” Maria groaned earning a shove from Serena, and a laugh from Natasha.

“Oh my god. It’s Destiny’s Child.” Tony began as he exited the Quinjet.

“Really?” Natasha asked in annoyance. “Destiny’s Child.”

“Obviously.” He said with a smirk. “Don’t ask me which one’s which though. Bruce, who do you think Beyonce is?”

Bruce shrugged in confusion.

“Don’t worry about him.” Thor began as he walked past the group. “He’s still wondering about how many people he killed.”

Bruce’s eyes widened as he hurried off the ramp, and practically ran towards the elevator in both shock and shame. Natasha frowned before starting to follow him, wondering if another lullaby needs to occur.

“By the way, Serenata.” Tony began turning his attention towards the younger brunette.

Serena frowned in annoyance as she turned toward Tony. While she was grateful that he allowed her to live with Steve in the tower, she was never a fan of the many, many, many, nicknames he gave her.

“What Stark?” She asked before crossing her arms.

“Your boyfriend is mad.” Tony explained.

“Why?” She asked in confusion.

Tony put his hand up before gesturing to the Quinjet. “Don’t look at me. Talk to Spangles yourself.”

Serena let out a frustrated sigh before walking toward the Quinjet, not knowing which Steve she’d get. The military version of Steve, or the loving Steve she got when they were alone. As she walked up the ramp, she saw Steve with his back facing her, still in his Captain America uniform. He was messing with one of the control panels on the jet…at least from her view.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” She asked as she crossed her arms.

Steve sighed, closed out of the control, and turned around to face his girl. As he looked over her facial expression, he could tell she was confused, and didn’t understand why he was mad, as when he left her, he was in a great mood.

“We didn’t get the Scepter.” He explained coldly as he walked past her and down the ramp.

Serena looked at him in disgust before following him. She was glad Maria and Tony had left, as she felt like she was going to start yelling if he didn’t tell her what was bothering him.

She followed him into the elevator, and instead of telling her why he was angry, he was silent the entire time. That silence continued when they reached their apartment, and when she followed Steve into their bedroom, he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Serena sighed as she heard the lock on the door twist before she heard the shower turn on. In the back of her mind, she knew why he was mad.

She’d be coming to Sokovia with the Avengers in the next couple of days.

That’s why he was mad.

Sure, he was frustrated that they still hadn’t found the Scepter, but he was angrier that Serena would be placed into danger.

In Serena’s mind, she was thrilled, that she would finally be away from her desk, but in complete contrast, Steve’s internal alarms were going off.

As Steve leaned against the shower wall, letting the water run over him, he knew in the back of his mind that Serena was a highly trained individual, but then again, he was afraid he’d lose her. He’d already lost almost everyone he loves…he couldn’t bear to lose her to. He knew silence with her wasn’t the answer, but at the same time, he knew yelling wasn’t either.

In the time Steve was in the shower, Serena decided to change into a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra, as she was slightly uncomfortable. She felt like the walls were closing in on her, as she still couldn’t believe after all this time…all the missions they went on in STRIKE, all the battles they fought together…he still didn’t fully trust her to be able to handle herself.

Serena grabbed her laptop, climbed into bed, before gesturing to Molly who also jumped on the bed, and began to answer emails, while waiting for Steve to come out of the shower. Eventually, after what felt like forever, Steve emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.

Serena turned her head towards him, slowly letting her eyes trace over his physic, before making eye contact with him. Steve gulped slowly noticing her staring daggers at him.

“Whatever for?” She sarcastically asked.

“Ser.” He began walking around the bed to her side. “It’s tough for me to accept.”

“I am coming with you to Sokovia. That was the deal.” She explained. “What part don’t you get?”

“I don’t want to lose you.” He explained as he sat down on the bed by her feet.

“You’re not going to lose me.” She began. “I had the same talk with Nick earlier. I can handle myself. I was trained to be a Specialist, and you know I can handle myself.”
Steve sighed as he looked at his hands.

“There’s something else bothering you…isn’t there?” She asked.

He nodded. “I’ve already lost so much…I don’t want to lose you.”

“Steve.” She practically whispered.

“When I got out of the ice…almost everyone I knew was gone. I don’t want you to be gone.” He explained. “If you die…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

She shook her head, as she moved her laptop aside, as she moved down to be close to him. She wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder.
“You’re not going to lose me.” She explained. “Stark made me a new suit that’s basically bulletproof.”

“Is it green?” He asked with a smile.

Serena rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“I’m glad. I told him that you wanted it to be green.” He continued placing a kiss on her lips. “Promise me when we get to Sokovia you listen, the last time we were on a mission together you didn’t follow orders.”

“I will, and yet after that mission, you asked me out.” She smirked. “Now look where we are. We’re living together, in the same place, working together.”
“We’re going to be sick of each other.” He groaned in amusement pushing Serena down onto the bed.

“I doubt it.” She said as he began to kiss her neck. “Don’t you have to go debrief Hill?”
She felt Steve smirk into her collarbone.
“I told her I had important things to do.” He explained as he continued to kiss her neck.

“Like what?” She frowned.

“You.”

Notes:

Next chapter starts A:AOU. As always, let me know if you have any questions comments or concerns.

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Present Day

Location: Novi Grad, Sokovia

“Shit!” Tony cursed over the coms as he hit the forcefield.

“Language!” Steve interjected. “JARVIS what’s the view from upstairs.”

“The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield. Strucker's technology is well beyond any other HYDRA base we've taken.” JARVIS explained over the coms.

The entire team was fighting vigorously the HYDRA personnel in the snowy tundra that is Sokovia. While it was cold, none of them really cared…all they wanted was the Scepter.

“Loki’s Scepter must be here.” Thor began as he fought off HYDRA agents. “Strucker couldn’t mount this defense without it. At long last.”

“’At long last’ is lasting a little long, boys.” Natasha interjected as she shot down three agents.

“Yeah, I think we lost the element of surprise.” Clint agreed as he dodged the incoming attacks.

“Really?” Serena asked with sarcasm, easily dodging the various bunkers firing at her, due to the fact she was driving a motorcycle. “What makes you say that?”

“Wait a second.” Tony began. “No one else is going to deal with the fact that Cap just said ‘language’?”

“I know.” Steve said in annoyance, as he threw his own motorcycle at some agents driving a truck, destroying it instantly. “It just slipped out.”

Serena who was not that far behind him, slowed her bike down to a stop.

“You know, when we’re alone, you curse just as much as Stark.” Serena began as Steve hoped on behind her.

“Don’t start” He began as she sped the bike toward the action.

Serena felt Steve’s hand on her upper thigh as she weaved her way around the dead and injured HYDRA agents.

“Steve, now’s not the time…” She began, fully believing that he was in the mood for sex on a mission, based upon how frequently they did the deed

“Not that, can I borrow your gun, we’re being followed.” He explained and she shifted her body slightly, to allow him to get a hold of the Glock that was currently sitting in her thigh-holster. Before she knew it, she heard gunshots being fired from behind them. Within a few minutes, he placed the gun back into its holster, and gestured for her to slow down. Steve quickly hopped off the bike and turned around to face her.

“Thanks for the ride, ma’am.” He said with a small smile.

“Ma’am?” Serena asked raising a brow. “I’m not that old. You should speak for yourself, you Cradle Robber.”

“Let me know if something goes wrong.” He said seriously, ignoring her last comment before, starting to run but kept his eyes on her. “Be safe!”
Serena rolled her eyes as she continued to speed forward.

“Clint!” Natasha exclaimed with worry.

“What’s wrong Nat?” Serena asked with concern.

“Clint’s hit!” She continued.

“Stay where you are, I’m on my way to you.” Serena began, seeing a blur run right by her. “Whoa, what the fuck was that?”
“We have an enhanced in the field.” Steve groaned.

“You alright, Clint?” Serena asked with concern as she pulled up alongside Natasha and Clint, but also still slightly worried about Steve, based upon the tone in his voice.

Clint’s only response was a groan. Serena knelt alongside Natasha and looked at the injured area, noticing how bad the wound was.

“This is bad.” She began. “He needs an evac.”
“Clint’s hit pretty bad guys.” Natasha began over the coms. “We’re gonna need evac.”

“The enhanced?” Thor asked as he walked up to Steve.

“He's a blur. All the new player's we've faced, I've never seen this. In fact, I still haven't.”

“I can get Barton to the jet. The sooner we’re gone the better. You and Stark secure the Scepter.” Thor continued.

“Copy that.” Steve nodded.

Thor looked over his shoulder to see approaching soldiers, along with a tank as well.

“It looks like they’re lining up.” Thor said with amusement.

Steve nodded with a small smile. “Well, they’re excited.”

Thor then pounded on Steve’s shield with his hammer, which resulted in a force wave that knocked down all the soldiers and destroyed the tank. Once completed Thor turned to Steve.

“Find the Scepter.” He explained before flying off.

“And for gosh sake, watch your language!” Tony scolded.

Steve sighed and looked down at his feet. “That’s not going away anytime soon.”
“I could’ve told you that, Honey.” Serena sighed as she packed Clint’s wound with snow, to try and keep the swelling down.

Once Thor came and retrieved Clint, Serena and Natasha, got back to work on taking down the rest of the soldiers. Eventually, they put their hands up in surrender as they knew they couldn’t stand a chance at both The Black Widow, and The Viper.

“We’re locked down out here.” Natasha explained.

“Then get to Banner, time for a lullaby.” Steve explained as he walked up to the two women.

Natasha nodded, heading off to calm down the Hulk, as he turned toward Serena.

“Having fun?” He asked with a smile.

She smirked and nodded. “Mhm.”

“You still mad at me?” He asked smirking as well.

She tilted her head back and forth. “I don’t know…ask me again when we take down Strucker.”
“You definitely weren’t mad at me last night.” He remarked as they headed toward the base.

“Different situation.” She shrugged. “And by the way, next time go easy on me…especially the day before a mission.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.” He sighed. “Though, you did scream at one point.”

Serena rolled her eyes as they entered the base, already knowing Stark had cleared it out. Eventually, they came across a corridor to find Strucker, who was shocked to see them.

“Baron von Strucker.” Serena said in disbelief.

“HYDRA’s number one thug.” Steve said in agreement.

Strucker shrugged. “Technically, I’m a thug for SHIELD.”

“Well then technically, you’re unemployed.” Steve asserted.

“Where’s the Scepter?” Serena asked stepping closer.

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated; I hope.” He replied.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there?” Steve asked.

Before Strucker could answer, Steve and Serena were sent flying into the brick wall. Just as they started to recover, an unknown woman backed away.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage.” Steve ordered.

“You’ll have to be faster than…” Strucker began but was not able to complete his sentence, as Serena, who was blown into the wall behind Strucker was able to quickly recover and knock him out cold with a swift kick to the head.

Steve looked down at Strucker then looked back to Serena, who was smirking.

“Good call.” Steve smiled.

“It’s like, I’m good at my job, right?” She asked with humorous sarcasm.

“Are you ok?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m ok. Are you?”

He nodded. “Yeah…I love you.”

“Now that’s something I heard a lot of last night.” She said as she knelt and put handcuffs on Strucker.

He shook his head in amusement before giving an announcement to the team.

“Guys, we got Strucker.” Steve explained over the coms before closing them. “Can we pick up where we left off last night when we get back?”

“Depends. I’m not that flexible.” Serena sighed.

Steve started to laugh.

“Oh, there, I disagree.”

Serena shook her head in amusement as they waited for Strucker to get into custody. Eventually they were all on the Quinjet heading back to New York and while everyone else was speaking about the mission, amongst other things, Serena fell deep into thought about Strucker. She had met Strucker before, as he was a SHIELD scientist, however, she never thought in her wildest dreams that he would experiment on people.

She never thought a person could be so cruel…but then again, she remembered who her father was and what he almost accomplished.

That’s when it all started to hit her. Everything that occurred over the last year, hit her like a freight train. Seeing HYDRA experimenting on people…and knowing her father was the head of the organization for many years, she realized that he ordered for Strucker to experiment on those two people. Serena was at the point in her life where she didn’t know what was real, and what was fake.

Everything seemed like an illusion.

“You alright?” Natasha asked as she sat down next to Serena after talking to Banner.

Serena shrugged. “Yeah, I’m just stuck in my own thoughts. I guess it’s because I’m still in shock with everything that occurred in D.C. Like how much it went under the radar…how much I was manipulated by my father.”

Natasha sighed before placing a hand on Serena’s back. “It’s ok to have these feelings. You’ve been through a lot recently. It’s ok to be unsure of what’s occurring.”
Serena let out a small sigh and gave her a small smile. She was grateful for her friendship with both Natasha and Maria, but deep down, she knew they’d never understand what it would feel like to have a parent who wanted you dead.

No one would understand being manipulated by your parents,

No one would understand the feeling.

Eventually, the Quinjet landed in the landing bay that was part of Avengers Tower, and as the hatch door opened, Serena was able to see Maria, along with Dr. Helen Cho, who flew in from Seoul, and her medical team, were already waiting for Clint to be wheeled out. Natasha, Clint and Banner, immediately wheeled Clint out of the Quinjet on the stretcher, followed by Thor, who carried the Scepter in a case. Serena lazily walked down the ramp but was stopped by Maria.

“You alright?” She asked, noticing her friend’s distance.

Serena nodded. “I’m fine, just tired.”

Maria nodded, not believing a word the younger girl said. She knew her all too well, to know she was lying.

“I like the suit.” Maria said giving her a small smile.

Serena looked down at her suit, that was essentially the same as Natasha’s. The only difference was that Serena’s suit was the shade of phthalo green with black piping, and a black A, placed on the right shoulder, where the usual CIA logo would be. It symbolized that she was a member of the Avengers…something she never thought she’d have.

“Thanks.” She smiled back as she headed toward the elevator. Needing to clear her head for a little bit.

She headed up to the apartment, and once she was upstairs, she found herself completely overwhelmed. She started to silently cry as she stripped her suit off and threw it on the bed, before sitting down on the floor in nothing but her bra and underwear. Molly wandered over to her and began to lick her face comfortingly. Serena gave the Golden Retriever a weak smile.

“Hey Molly.” She murmured. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t know what I feel. Everything feels wrong. I don’t know what’s right or wrong. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you. You know I’ll give you the world.”

She looked over her shoulder to see Steve leaning against the doorframe, still in his Captain America uniform. She slowly got up and walked over to him. Once she was in his range, he took her hands in his, and looked over her melancholy features. Her usually lively green eyes had dark circles under them and were slightly bloodshot, indicating his suspicions that she had been crying.

Serena never cried in front of him, while she had been getting better expressing her emotions, he still had difficulty reading her sometimes. It was in times like these where he had difficulty comforting his girlfriend, as he wanted to, but sometimes, he didn’t know how. After a few moments of gazing into her eyes, he pulled her into a hug.

“You did great out there.” He began as he pulled away beaming slightly at how easily it was for Serena to adapt to the way the Avengers ran their missions.

“Thanks.” She weakly smiled. “I guess hearing that people were experimented on, hit me hard. Everything is hitting me all at once…I never thought it took for someone to be experimented on for me to finally react to everything that happened in D.C.”

“Do you need to talk to someone?” Steve asked, knowing in the past Serena saw various Psychiatrists and Therapists to deal with the trauma she endured from missions over the years, at the request of both the CIA and her parents.

She shook her head. “Not yet, but I may need to. I guess I’ve finally realized that my father was a horrible person.”

He pulled her in for another hug and placed a kiss on the top of her head, as he knew how hard it was for her. While he was with her at her father’s funeral (which only consisted of Serena, Nick, Alison, who was Nick’s wife, Felicita, and himself), Serena shed no tears. She didn’t cry, she didn’t scream, moan, or cry. She was…sedated almost.

Steve pulled away from her, and grabbed the suit that was laying on the bed.

“I am going to go and get these.” He began gesturing to his and her suits. “Packed away so they can be cleaned. Do you want anything from downstairs?”

She shook her head. “Just come back.”

Steve smiled before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll be right back.”

After Steve returned, and after they both took showers, they opted to spend the rest of the day in their apartment, as Steve was concerned about Serena’s mental state.

He didn’t want her to be alone.

After both changed into pajamas, and getting into bed, Serena was answering emails on her laptop, while Steve was reading up on the twins on a tablet, while they had CNN on in the background, for both background noise, and to occupy Molly, who was laying at the foot of the bed.

After a while, Serena closed her laptop and carefully placed it on her nightstand. She then turned to Steve.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, as she wrapped left arm around Steve’s shirtless torso, and placed her head where his shoulder met his chest.

“I’m reading everything I can on the twins.” He explained, wrapping his left hand around her, to keep her close.

“The twins?” She asked in confusion.

“The two enhanced.” He sighed; exhaustion heavily present in his voice as he lowered the tablet so she could read. “Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Volunteered to be experimented on by Strucker, and the only two who survived.”

Serena sighed and closed her eyes, imagining the torture the two went through. She wondered if they were awake and could feel the pain…she practically shuddered.

“What’re their abilities?” She asked, trying to not cry at the thought of someone getting tortured on.

“He’s fast. Faster than the speed of light, and she has various powers, telekinetic, mental manipulation, and can read minds. You don’t know how much I miss the times, where the weirdest thing science created was me.”  He explained.

Serena laughed. “The times have definitely changed since then.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You have no idea. Are you feeling better?”

She nodded as she turned her body to meet his gaze. “Yeah, as I said before, I think everything is hitting me at once.”

“You sure you’re going to be ok?” He asked, concern heavily present in his eyes.

Serena sighed. “Compared to everything else going on…I have no idea anymore.”

And that was the truth. She didn’t know what was real or fake anymore. And based upon everything occurring…she didn’t know where she would stand during the time of conflict. The only thing she hoped for, was that Steve would understand where she was coming from, as out of all of the people in her life, he was the one, who’s opinion mattered the most to her.

Notes:

We are finally starting A:AOU! As always let me know if you have any questions comments or concerns.

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

3 Days Later

Present Day

Serena felt a feeling of calm fall over her, as her fingers danced upon the piano keys. While she hated playing piano in public, she enjoyed playing it by herself in the company of no one. When people were watching her, her anxiety was through the roof…but there was only one person she was comfortable around that made her feel safe, allowing her to be calm when she played.

Steve.

While she was playing the piano, Steve was sitting at the kitchen table, in their apartment, reading over files and research he’s collected on the Maximoff’s, while Serena was playing the piano in the living room. Upon moving into Avengers Tower, Steve had requested a Grand Piano be placed on both the communal floor and in their private apartment, to allow for Serena to play if she’d ever get bored.

Steve sighed at one of the files before looking down to see Molly, asleep at his feet. Since Steve and Serena started dating, Molly had officially decided, that while Serena was her owner, Steve was her master. While it made Serena jealous…sometimes, she still loved the dog, like it was a person. And Steve took pride and comfort in the fact that when he did have to go away, without Serena, she had someone to keep her company.

Steve then turned around to look at Serena. A small smile formed on his face, as he watched her play. In her own little world. Only thinking about which notes came next. Within the last couple of days, Steve noticed Serena struggling emotionally within the last week. Since taking down Strucker, Steve noticed Serena become very distant. While she expressed to him, how grateful she was going back into the field and being able to fight alongside him, she hadn’t expressed what she was truly feeling with regards to how big of an organization HYDRA was, and how her father manipulated her mother, her brother, and her, into believing he was a good guy.

It was in the moments, where Serena would have a distant blank stare, lie awake for hours during the night, and silently cry, that made Steve worried. He was concerned that she was headed for a mental breakdown, as all the events that led up to this point, including killing her father, the fall of SHIELD, and now encountering the Maximoff’s, are what is triggering these emotions and actions from her.

He fully started to believe all the things her mother had said to him a few months ago, while they were in The Hamptons at Rebecca’s Wedding, with how she processes emotions.

Flashback

Location: South Hampton, New York

“Thank you, for this.” Steve said as he sat down next to Felicita.

She smiled, before reaching out to take his hands in hers. “Of course, I’ve never seen her so…full of life.”

Steve turned around to look at Serena who was across the room talking to her brother and his wife. She had one of her million-dollar smiles on, a real one at that, and was laughing at something he said. She was happy.

“She’s always like this around me.” Steve explained.

A shocked look came upon the woman’s face.

“Really?” She asked in disbelief. “I’m surprised.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in confusion.

Felicita sighed. “Serena isn’t the best with processing her emotions. Her father and I figured that out when she was taken as a hostage in Bogotá.”

“She was young though.” Steve began. “She was only five, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, but even then, she kept everything internally. It wasn’t until we were about to send her to boarding school in Bouches-du-Rhone, that she snapped. The no emotion she had the day of Alexander’s funeral, is the same type of personality she had until she was twelve.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “I can talk to her…she listens to me.”

Felicita frowned in disbelief.

“Sometimes.” Steve corrected making her let out a small laugh.

“Don’t pressure her to come forward with it, she’ll claim she’s alright, but she’s not.” Felicita explained.

Steve looked over his shoulder, to see Serena heading towards him, martini in hand.

“Don’t worry Steven.” Felicita explained turning around to face her again. “She’ll come around…just give her time.”

Just as Steve was about to reply, Serena returned to her seat.

“What’s wrong?” She asked with a small smile before taking a sip of her martini.

Felicita shook her head as she stood up. “Nothing, I’m going to go check on Val…I feel like she’s terrorizing her new son-in-law as we speak.”

Serena’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as her mother walked away in the direction of Val, who was in fact terrorizing her new son-in-law.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked placing his hand on her knee.

Serena smirked at him with her eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing.” Steve lied. “She told me that she was glad I was here.”

She tilted her head to the side and looked the man over. She knew he was lying, as he didn’t make eye contact with her, but she’d eventually get it out of him.

Hopefully.

“You’re lying.” She confirmed raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not.” Steve gently protested.

Serena let out a huff in amusement. “Yes, you are.”
“How do you know I’m lying?” He asked with a smirk, playing along with her game.

“You’re not making eye contact with me. It’s characteristic of it. You made the same face when I asked you if you agree with what Lisa Vanderpump said on the Vanderpump Rules Reunion.” She smiled.

“And I told you, I did.” He explained.

Serena laughed before taking another sip of her martini.

“Regardless of if you are going to tell me.” She began, placing her drink back on the table. “There’s no use of trying to get out of it…I’m a human lie detector.”

Steve smiled, leaning closer to her, playing into her game even more. “The human lie detector, huh?”

She smirked and nodded, leaning closer as well. “I know all your moves, Captain.”

"Captain?” He asked now smirking as well. “You never call me Captain. Are you trying to pull rank on me?”

She playfully shrugged. “Maybe…maybe not. Why? Does it turn you on?”

“You do not want me to answer that right now.” He murmured.

Serena smiled as she began to trace patterns with her right index finger along Steve’s upper thigh, as they were sitting rather close.

“You know, we could continue this conversation in my room. I may know all your moves.” She began before looking up at him, lust heavily present in her emerald eyes. “But you definitely don’t know all of mine…yet.”

Steve gestured to the wedding. “You think they’ll realize if we’re gone?”

She rolled her eyes. “Probably not, and if they do, I don’t care…their mistake for flying you in.”

Steve let out a laugh, as Serena placed a kiss on his cheek. He turned to her, so they made eye contact.

“I love you.” He murmured.

She smiled at him before standing up. “I love you too.”

Serena glanced over her shoulder, to see her aunt and mother in an animated conversation, with her uncle trying to reason between the two.

Serena rolled her eyes in amusement before turning back to Steve.

“C’mon soldier. There’s still a lot about me, you don’t know yet.” She smirked, knowing in the back of her mind, Steve was going to be in for one rough ride…literally.

Present Day

“You’re staring.” Serena said cutting Steve out of his thoughts, before they could become X-rated.

Pity.

At least in his mind.

“I’m not.” He explained shaking his head. “You stopped playing, why?”

“Because you were staring.” She explained.

“Such a shame. I liked what you were playing. What was it?”

She sighed. “Clair de Lune.”

He gave her a small smile. “I liked it, it’s calming.”

“It’s one of my favorites.” She explained. “For that exact reason…what’re you doing?”

He sighed. “Reading up on the Maximoffs.”

“Still?” She questioned in disbelief, standing up from the Grand Piano. “I think you should take a break.”

“Hill keeps sending me more information, that makes me sicker as the time goes on.” He continued as she walked over to him. “They were the only two to survive Strucker’s experiments, orphaned at twelve when a bomb destroyed their apartment.”

Serena sighed as Steve pulled her closer to him. In response, she straddled his hips, so they could look each other in the eyes, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked, finally touching on the other thing heavily on his mind.

“Huh?” She asked in disbelief. “There’s nothing going on with me.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, as his thumbs started to gently rub circles on the back of her hips.

“You’re lying.” He immediately replied.

“No I’m not.” She scoffed in annoyance.

“Ser, I know all of your moves…don’t lie to me.” He said calmly. “C’mon, tell me what’s going on.”

She gently ran her right hand threw his hair. “Baby, nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re distant.” He began. “You haven’t been right since Sokovia, and I know you said everything’s hitting you at once, but…I want you to tell me how to help you. I don’t want you to have a mental break down.”

Serena sighed. While she did come a long way with her emotions and learning how to express them (at least with Steve), she still was keeping things internally…especially some of the things that occurred to her while she was on STRIKE, and in the CIA. Things her mother, brother, Maria, Steve, and Fury don’t even know occurred.

Being in Sokovia, was the domino effect, that caused everything she kept internal for so long, was beginning to come out, and the only way she knew how to process it, was through staring off, lying awake, and silently crying.

She felt useless and weak.

Hopeless.

Her family would be disappointed in her.

Steve was probably disappointed in her.

He probably saw her as weak. Useless. Stupid.

But while she believed that he saw these things in her, in completed contrast, Steve saw one of the strongest people he knew. He admired Serena in every way, and all he wanted was for her to be able to process her trauma.

And when she was ready, he would be right by her side.

She wouldn’t be alone.

“I’ll be ok.” She explained, knowing she wouldn’t be, but she’d never let him see it.

“Promise?” He asked with concern.

She leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Promise.” She practically whispered when she pulled away. “Did you hear Stark’s throwing a party?”

He nodded. “I did…not that I’m in the mood for a party.”

“Really?” Serena said with a smile, grateful that they had dropped the subject of her trauma. “I called Sam, he said he could come.”

Steve smiled. “Really?”

She nodded. “He gets in tomorrow. I figured it would get your mind off the Maximoff’s for a day or two.”

Steve leaned in and placed another kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled before getting off his lap.

“Where’re you going?” He asked noticing how she grabbed Molly’s leash.

“On a walk in Central Park.” She explained hooking up the Golden Retriever to the leash. “Care to join us?”

Steve nodded as he got up and walked over to the two of them.

“Anything for my girls.” He murmured, as he wrapped an arm around Serena as they stepped into the elevator.

While the two of them were happy on the outside, their combined trauma and their own personal trauma were eating them up inside. All it would take for one event to make Serena snap, and one event to make Steve realize he can’t save everyone, for the two of them to realize, that they weren’t as invincible as they presented themselves to be.

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions comments or concerns.

Chapter 23: Chapter 23

2 Days Later

“Why didn’t you tell me that Wilson is coming to the party Saturday?” Maria asked as she busted into Serena and Steve’s apartment.

She was met with Serena straddling Steve on the couch, with their arms wrapped around one another.

“Am I interrupting sex?” Maria asked in disbelief.

“Not yet.” Steve interjected, looking over his shoulder to look the former Deputy Director of SHIELD in the eyes.

“Good, then get out.” Maria immediately replied.

“What?” Steve said in disbelief. “You can’t just…”
“Serena.” Maria pleaded, looking at Serena with a desperate look.

Serena sighed, looking over the woman’s facial expression, before climbing off Steve’s lap.

“Go, you have to pick up Sam at the airport anyways.” Serena said with a sigh.

Steve groaned before getting up off the couch, grabbing the keys to Serena’s new Porsche (that she traded the BMW in for), on the counter before heading to the elevator.

“When I come back, there better be sex.” He explained making Serena roll her eyes in humor.

“Love you!” She called.

“Love you too.” He replied as the elevator doors closed.

Once Steve was gone, Serena gestured for Maria to come sit next to her on the couch. Maria obliged and sat down next to the younger girl.

“What’s wrong?” Serena asked, tucking her feet up underneath her.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Sam Wilson was coming to Stark’s party on Saturday?” Maria asked letting out a breath.

Serena shrugged. “I don’t think it’s relevant to the situation…plus I didn’t think you’d care that much. Why? What’s wrong with him coming?”

Maria let out a sigh and leaned back into the couch, putting her hands on her face. Serena frowned in confusion. She and Maria had been friends since they were children, as their parents were friends with each other. While there was a 7-year age gap between the two of them, and while Maria was closer to Nick’s age than Serena’s, she was always closer to Serena than Nick. So, Serena had seen Maria in every stage of life…and Maria had seen Serena in every stage of life as well.

“I have to tell you something.” Maria mumbled. “I’ve been keeping something from you…something I’m not proud of.”

“You’ve got me worried.” Serena said with a sigh, resting her left arm on the couch, so she could place her head on top of it. She grabbed Maria’s right hand with her own right hand. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nodded, as she sat up. “I know.”

Maria let out a sigh, looked at Molly, who was sleeping by the fireplace, to the television which was the news speaking about the Avengers and the good they’ve done, then back to Serena.

She took a deep breath before she dropped the bomb.

“I slept with Wilson.”

Serena’s eyes widened in shock.

“What the fuck?” Serena asked in disbelief. “What do you mean, you slept with Sam?”

“Exactly what I said.” Maria explained in an annoyed tone. “I slept with Sam.”

“When, how, where?” Serena began, still in shock.

Maria groaned in annoyance. “It was in Monaco…we were both drunk, you and Rogers already had left and gone back to the hotel, and Sam and I were the only ones who went to the club.”

Serena looked over the woman for a moment before breaking out into laughter. She threw her head back, due to how hard she was laughing. Not only was it funny that Maria slept with Sam, but it was only when she was in a drunken state that she did things like this. An example was when Maria tried to pick up the bartender at Serena’s cousin’s wedding, hence her acting completely different to how she usually acts.

“As far as how we slept together…based upon what I almost walked into with you and Rogers…you don’t need an education on that.” Maria smirked making Serena roll her eyes.

“Stop.” Serena pleaded playfully. “Back to this whole Sam thing…maybe sleeping with him was a good thing. Maybe you guys could…test the waters.”

Maria groaned. “Really Ser?”

Serena shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt. You don’t have to see him until tomorrow…he’s staying up here on the couch.”

“That’s not going to interrupt…your…activities with Steve?” Maria asked with humor.

Serena rolled her eyes. “Stop, I’m really not in the mood to play this game.”

“What’s wrong?” Maria frowned.

Serena sighed. “Steve and I got into a fight…a really bad one.”

“What happened?”

Serena sighed again. “He wants to move out of the Tower…get a place of his…our own.”

Maria smiled. “That’s great, it’ll allow you both to get away from the craziness.”

Maria then noticed Serena’s expression, and her smile immediately disappeared.

“But?” She asked expectantly.

“But I don’t want to leave.” Serena explained. “I am just starting to process my emotions with everything that happened when SHIELD fell, I don’t want to leave here...I like it here.”

“Do you really want to start a family with Rogers, in the presence of a Pop-Tart eating God, a ginormous green rage monster, and a billionaire in a shiny metal suit?” Maria asked in seriousness.

Serena shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe? I think Steve just wants me to get away from all of this so I can fully recover from what happened in D.C. I’ve had issues dealing with everything from Sokovia as well, and he thinks it’s because I never had time to process anything from D.C.”

Maria put a hand on Serena’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s doing it for a reason.”

Meanwhile

“Do you really think it’s time?” Sam asked looking at Steve with a bit of surprised.

Steve shrugged while he leaned against the glass counter. “I’ve known her for almost 2 years, we’ve been dating for 6 months, and have survived so much together. She helped me adapt to the modern world, better than most people at SHIELD did, and she treated me for me…not some object, I’m one-hundred percent sure.”

“Did you ask permission first?” Sam asked with a small smile.

“I spoke to her mother and brother a couple of weeks ago, showed her the designs…she gave me permission.” Steve explained. “I designed it myself.”

Sam smiled as the man behind the counter walked up carrying a small black velvet box. The man placed the box on the counter and gently opened it. Sam’s eyes widened, as Steve’s smile grew.

“It’s perfect.” Steve said looking the man in the eye.

The man nodded. “You designed a beautiful ring; we’ve never had an emerald as an engagement ring before…she must be quite special.”

“You have no idea.” Steve murmured, still mesmerized by the ring.

“What is it?” Sam asked. “How many carats?”

“It is a 5-carat emerald, in a classic emerald cut, in a pave setting. If you look at the side stones on the band themselves, you can see that they alter between emeralds and diamonds. There is also and engraving inside the band as well.” The jeweler explained.

“An engraving?” Sam frowned turning to Steve. “What does it say?”

“That’s for me and Serena to know…not you.” Steve explained, pulling his baseball cap lower, to keep his disguise. All he needed was someone to know he and Sam were in a jewelry store, and for Serena to find out he was planning on proposing.

“This thing must’ve cost you a fortune.” Sam murmured, as he watched the jeweler package the ring up carefully.

“Trust me.” Steve began. “For her, it’s worth it.”

Later

Serena showered, letting the hot water run over her tense muscles. It had been a rough couple of months for her, and while it was all just starting to hit her now, she started to realize that maybe she did need to confront her troubles. She stood in the shower, lost in her own thoughts until the hot water turned cold. She then turned off the water, and slowly walked out of the shower, wrapping a towel tightly around herself, before opening the bathroom door to allow for the steam to fill her and Steve’s bedroom.

Steve laid on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling in sweatpants and no shirt. From where Serena was standing, she couldn’t read his expression, as he was in such deep thought. He threw a stray toy that Molly had placed on the bed, off the bed, to allow for the Golden Retriever to be occupied, while she laid on the floor by the windows.

“I uh…used up all the hot water. I’d give it a while before you shower.” Serena admitted as she grabbed another towel to begin to dry her hair, though she’d knew it’d be damp for quite a bit of time. Quite frankly though, she’d rather focus on drying her hair, then deal with Steve’s pensiveness, which is why she started to head to the walk-in-closet.

“Come here, Ser.” Steve softly commanded.

Serena frowned and stopped in her tracks. She slowly turned on her heel to look him in the eye, still with a surprised look on her face.

Steve waved her toward the bed. “Come over here.”

Serena’s confusion deepened, as she walked toward Steve’s side of the bed. Steve rolled onto his right side, a stern expression present on his face, ready to have a serious talk with her about moving out of Avengers Tower…something she wasn’t ready to discuss, as too much has changed in her life already. She could see the frustration in his eyes, the bubbling thoughts he’d have to get out, were about to be spoken to her.

“What is it?” She asked with confusion, fully prepared for another argument to occur between the two of them.

He grabbed the towel that was wrapped around her and yanked it deftly, allowing to get a view of her naked.

“That’s better, now come to bed, it’s about damn time that we’ve been alone.” He explained.

“Language, Captain.” Serena beamed as he moved further back into their bed, beckoning her to join him.

She grabbed onto his sweats and pulled them slowly until he was only in his boxers. She then started to move slowly up his legs, gently kissing his inner thigh until she reached the edge of his underwear. She slowly traced her fingertips along the waistband, causing Steve to grunt in frustration because she wasn’t moving the article of clothing off his body.

“Come on Ser…” Steve growled at her, while she laid across his legs and began to lazily play with the hem of his boxers. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Isn’t that my job?” She asked in amusement continuing to trace her fingers before slowly adjusting herself, so she was sitting on top of him. “Baby I-“

Serena didn’t have the chance to say anything flirty, because Steve had quickly rolled over and pinned her to the mattress, hovering over her with little effort. He quickly took his boxers off and allowed for his forearms to dig into the comforter, as he settled against her, staying just far enough away, to give her the same treatment she was giving him, moments earlier.

She pouted, wanting him close to her, to allow her to fulfill her need of his body warmth to saturate the desire heavily present within her core. A wicked smile came across his face, as he dipped his head to kiss the crook of her neck, sucking on it lightly as she whimpered.

“We have to be quiet, Sam’s in the living room.” He cooed before beginning to kiss her jaw and up to her ear.

Serena in response, dug her fingernails into his back.

“It’ll be a game.” He continued. “You’ll try hard to be quiet, and I’ll try hard to get you to break.”

Before Serena could protest, he slid himself into her, covering her mouth with his hand as her eyes widened, unprepared for the sensation. She pursed her lips together as he removed his hand, slightly shaking her head, as she ground into him. He bit his lip, then dove in for a kiss as he began to thrust into her.

Her head flew back against the pillow, sucking in air to keep herself from screaming. She dug her fingernails deeper into his back, causing bright red scratches, as he continued to fuck her, but she pushed him away swiftly causing him to come out of her a little.

“What?” He asked in confusion.

“Are you wearing a condom?” She asked expectantly.

Steve reached his right hand across her, opened his nightstand drawer, grabbed a strip of condoms, and threw them at Serena.

Serena nodded in approval. “I love the way you think.”

3 Hours Later

“That…was great.” Serena began, as she wrapped her left arm around Steve’s chest, as they laid tangled in the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for how I reacted a couple days ago…I wasn’t expecting you to ask that.”

“You know I love you, don’t ever doubt that.” Steve explained as he placed a kiss against her temple. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to struggle with your trauma.”

Serena sighed. “I love you too…and I’ve taken it into some consideration, and I think on Monday, I’m going to call a doctor.”

Steve placed another kiss to her temple. “I’m glad.”

They fell silent for a while, before Steve let out a sigh.

“I should probably see someone as well.” He began making Serena turn her head to look him in the eye. “I still get flashbacks every once in a while, of Bucky falling off the train…then I think back to what I could’ve done to save him, and what I could’ve prevented.”

“I know you want to try…but you can’t save everyone Steve.” She explained. “Before SHIELD, I learned that lesson the hard way, I thought I could, which is one of the reasons why I joined the Agency, and then agreed to join SHIELD, but…after I met you, I realized that this job…we’ll try to save everyone, but no matter what we do, sometimes, people don’t want to be saved.”

Steve wrapped his arms around her and held her closer.

“Maybe you’re right.” He said in agreement. “But I’m going to try and save everyone I can.”

Serena sighed before placing a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “Me too.”

Notes:

As always let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Present Day

If was finally Saturday, and loud laughter escalated through the tower, as the party was in full swing. People from all corners of the upper deck were living their best lives, catching up with each other happily. They were playing games, telling stories, drinking, and dancing. Something Serena found…familiar.

While she grew up going to parties with her parents that were posher than this, she did experience wild parties like this when she was in the CIA Academy. If she had enough alcohol in her, she could stomach them, and enjoy them to some degree, but if she didn’t, she’d be her usual anti-social, non-emotional self.

Some of the Avengers were still hesitant towards her, mainly Bruce, Thor, and Tony. Bruce didn’t want to touch on her psychological and physical trauma, though, he was rather found of her heightened intelligence, and would ask for her input on certain things when Tony wasn’t around. Thor, who had only met her two weeks ago, still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that her father was a terrorist…but immediately remembered her, when she accompanied her father to pick up the Tesseract to bring it back to SHIELD after the Battle of New York.

And Tony flat out didn’t trust her.

He didn’t trust the fact that she worked for Fury, and was still in cahoots with him, he didn’t trust how she reported back every single mission to the CIA, he didn’t trust how close she was with Hill, Natasha, and Clint, and he didn’t trust her at how dangerous she was. While she was the youngest out of all of them, being only 26, she had the most kill experience out of anyone other than Natasha and Clint.

He also didn’t believe her psychological and physical trauma at all.

He believed it was another act Fury taught her, to manipulate people…like how Maria and Natasha were. He had come to believe that the intelligent, young, beautiful girl, who had become extremely close with Steve, was only using them.

While she was quiet and kept to herself when around the other Avengers, she’d only open, when Steve or Hill were around, as they were the only two people, she’d really show herself to, which us another reason as to why Tony didn’t trust her.

“So, when are you planning on popping the question?” Sam asked as he and Steve played a round of pool.

“When the time is right.” Steve explained shooting a ball into the hole.

“So, is that this year or next?” Sam joked.

“When the time is right.” Steve continued.

Sam rolled his eyes, but in doing so, lost his concentration, and hit the wrong ball.

“Oooh! Whooo!” Sam exclaimed with humor.

“All right, all right, all right.” Steve said with some laughter.

“Come back, come back, come back!” Sam began with humor as the game was all in good fun.

Across the room, Serena, Maria, Thor, and Tony, were at the bar, entertaining themselves listening to Rhodey’s story, that wasn’t entertaining.

“But you know, the suit can take the weight, right?” Rhodey began. “So, I take the tank, fly it right up to the general’s palace, drop it at his feet, I’m like ‘Boom. You lookin for this?’”

Serena sheepishly took another sip of her martini, while Tony gave him an awkward smile.

“Boom. Are you looking for- why do I even talk to you guys? Everywhere else, that story kills.” Rhodey explained.

“Does it really?” Serena asked in disbelief, before getting elbowed in the side by Maria.

“That’s the whole story?” Thor asked, furring his eyebrows.

Rhodey nodded. “Yeah, it’s the War Machine story.”

Thor began to quickly nod. “Oh, it’s very good then!”

Serena smirked in amusement as she looked down at her feet, that were covered in 6-inch black heels, in slight embarrassment. The dress she was wearing was a maroon turtleneck dress, that not only covered the scar on her chest that she was self-conscious about, but to make up for the fact she was wearing that type of dress, the entire back was open, and the dress stopped just below the knees.

“Quite impressive.” Serena quickly replied, picking her head up again.

“Quality save.” Rhodey said with a smile before turning to Tony. “So, no Pepper? She’s not coming?”

Tony shook his head.

“Yeah, what about Jane?” Maria playfully asked. “Where are the ladies, gentlemen?”

“Well Miss Potts has a company to run.” Tony began proudly.

“Yes, I’m not even sure what country Jane is in. Her work on the Convergence has made her the world’s foremost astronomer.” Thor explained.

Tony turned to Thor slightly. “And the company that Pepper runs out of, is the largest tech conglomerate on Earth. It’s exciting stuff.”

Serena and Maria turned to each other, with smirks plastered on their faces, at both of their childishness.

“There’s even talk of Jane getting a…Nobel Prize.” Thor continued.

“Yeah, they must be busy, because they would hate missing you guys get together.” Maria began with a grin.

“Testosterone!” Maria faked cough making Serena stifle a laugh. “Oh excuse me.”

“Want a lozenge?” Serena playful asks, while Rhodey assits the two women, playing along. Maria nodded, as Rhodey put a hand on her back.

“Let’s go.” He gestured and ushering them off.

“Sounds like a hell of a fight, sorry I missed it.” Sam explained as he and Steve walked up the stairs to go to the overlook.

“If I had known it was going to be a firefight, I absolutely would have called you.” Steve explained.

Sam smile and shook his head. “No, I’m not actually sorry. I’m just trying to sound tough. I’m very happy chasing cold leads on our missing person’s case. Avenging is your world. Your world is crazy.”

They both paused to overlook the party going on.

“Be it ever so humble.” Steve remarked.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?” Sam asked, knowing Steve’s longing to get out of the tower to have a place of his own.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

“What about Serena?” Sam asked, knowing the brunette came from a rather wealthy family, and she had a very high paying salary working for the CIA as a liaison.

“We had an argument about it a few days ago.” Steve sighed. “She’s still…not right since SHIELD fell. Just as I thought she’d be ok, when we got Strucker, she…she’s still going through it. She didn’t really have time to process her father’s death either. She doesn’t want to leave, as she feels comfortable here, but…if we’re going to start a family…I want us to have a place of our own.”

Sam nodded and sighed. “Well, home is home, you know?”

“Yeah, home is home.” Steve nodded with a faint smile, as his eyes landed on Serena, who tossed her head back in laughter at something Rhodey and Maria said. He was glad she was starting to warm up to the rest of the Avengers.

Serena had eventually found her way to Dr. Helen Cho and Clint, and the trio began discussing Helen’s research in Seoul.

“I’m fascinated by the regeneration cradle.” Serena explained, with admiration in her eyes. “I always said, if I never went into the CIA, I’d probably be a doctor.”

Helen smiled. “Really? What type?”

Serena shrugged. “Probably a surgeon. Something fun.”

“You’d make a good doctor Ser.” Clint explained making Serena laugh.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Serena felt like she was finally starting to fit in with them and talk more.

“I highly doubt it.” Serena began.

Helen excused herself, leaving Clint and Serena alone.

“How’s Laura?” She asked warmly, as she knew the woman prior to joining SHIELD.

Clint smiled. “Almost ready to pop. The house is all torn up, I’m redoing the entire house. I want the dining room gone.”

Serena nodded. “You guys always eat in the kitchen anyways.”

She’d been over there house quite a few times over the years, as she met Laura and Clint while on an assignment for the CIA. She’d come rather close to the pair.

Clint nodded. “No one eats in a dining room.”

“My parents did.” She explained. “My mom still does…I think my brother and his wife eat on the couch.”

“Yeah, but you grew up with the silver spoon.” Clint began making her roll her eyes. “But unlike your family, you aren’t as posh as them.”

She smiled. “I guess I’m more normal than people think.”

He nodded before clinking his beer with her martini.

“You’re a good person Serena.” Clint explained. “You always have been. People just need to realize that.”

Serena smiled and nodded, knowing what he said was true. Once Helen came back, Serena had decided to venture further into the party, and after noticing Thor and Steve drinking some sort of Asgardian liquor, she ventured up to the overlook, and instead of looking at the party, she looked out into the city below.

She gently rested her hands on the railing, and briefly noticed her reflection. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a low bun, with a few strands formed around her head. Her makeup was simple, and her once lively green eyes, had slight dark circles around them…something she couldn’t cover up no matter how much concealer she put on.

She was exhausted.

But she’d never tell them that.

They’d see her as weak.

They’d see her as useless.

Unimportant.

She closed her eyes in deep thought as she felt her breath go into her throat. Trying to calm her anxiety, she attempted to focus on her breathing, which sometimes worked, and sometimes didn’t.

“You alright?” She heard Steve’s voice ask from behind her.

She immediately opened her eyes and turned around to see Steve standing behind her.

She faked a smile. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?” Steve asked smiling back, walking toward her.

“Oh, you know.” She playfully said, as he rested his hands on her hips, and she rested her hands on his chest. “Stuff.”

“Important stuff?” He asked in the same tone, with a small smile.

“Not really.” She explained, not wanting to tell him how she really felt. “I saw you talking to Banner.”

Steve nodded. “I think he likes Romanoff…and I think she likes him.”

Serena smiled and nodded. “I think they both deserve a win.”

Steve nodded again, before leaning in to give her a soft kiss. As they pulled away from each other, they rested their foreheads against each other.

“Are you enjoying the party?” He began with concern. “I know you hate parties.”

She shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed speaking with the people I’ve met. Dr. Cho said I’m welcome in her lab in Seoul anytime.”

“Maybe we should go there on vacation.” Steve said with a smile.

She shook her head. “No. When we do go on vacation, I want to go where there is no Avengers, no Avengers associates, and no Avengers-Level Threats.”

“Alright deal.” Steve laughed as he grabbed her right hand, and interlaced it with his left, as they walked down the stairs of the overlook. “By the way, what movie are we watching tomorrow?”

“Uh…what’s on the list again?” She asked, knowing she should know it by heart at this point.

“The last I recall, we’ve got Zombieland, Clueless, Wayne’s World, The Hangover, White Chicks, 16 Candles.” He explained. “It’s your turn to pick.”

Since they made their original to-do list, they’d already gotten through it in record time, but since they started dating, and to spend time together, they decided to make a new list, and every Sunday they’d watch something on it.

“I’ll have to think about it.” She replied with honesty, as it was a hard decision.

Just as they reached the party deck, they stopped in their tracks, as they laid eyes on Sam and Maria talking.

“Oh, thank god. At least their talking.” Serena explained, pulling Steve along with her.

“Why?” He asked in confusion. “I thought they were ok.”

“They are…just…things happened.” She continued.

Steve stopped in his tracks and pulled her close to him.

“What kind of things happened?” Steve asked.

“He didn’t tell you?”

Steve frowned. “Tell me what?”

“In Monaco, him and Hill…slept together.” Serena spoke quietly.

Steve’s eyes widened. “What?”

She nodded. “That’s why she didn’t want Sam at the party…for it to be awkward.”

Steve shook his head in amusement. “I thought something happened between you and him.”

“What?” She asked with humor, as he pulled her closer.

“You’re mine Serena.” He grunted with seriousness, and eyes dark with lust. “And mine only.”

Just as she was about to reply, a voice shouted above the rest.

“TO THE AVENGERS!” Tony shouted raising his drink to the crowd.

“TO THE AVENGERS!” Everyone replied, but Steve and Serena were too focused on each other to notice, something that had become more popular in the last couple of days.

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

The party was in full swing, with drinks flowing and laughter echoing through the tower. Serena and Maria stood near the bar, reminiscing quietly while the rest of the Avengers were caught up in a competitive game of pool. As Clint leaned over to make his shot, Natasha sauntered by, raising an eyebrow at Maria and Serena.

"You two look like you're plotting something," Natasha teased, taking a sip of her drink. "Bringing back your S&M days?"

Serena let out a sharp laugh, nearly choking on her martini. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"

Maria smirked, her tone deadpan. "Oh, you mean the glory days? Yeah, sure, we're totally plotting a hostile takeover of the bar."

Natasha's lips curled into a sly smile. "I'm just saying, I've heard the stories. Efficient, relentless... terrifying, depending on who you ask."

Clint looked up from his shot, intrigued. "Wait, wait, wait. What's this about 'S&M'? Please tell me it's as scandalous as it sounds."

The group quickly gravitated toward Serena and Maria, curiosity piqued. Clint abandoned his game entirely, dragging Rhodey and Thor along. Even Bruce and Tony wandered over, drawn by the buzz.

"Alright," Clint said, pulling up a chair. "Spill it. What is 'S&M,' and why haven't we heard about this until now?"

Maria rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk. "It's just a nickname."

Serena leaned against the bar, her grin widening. "A nickname with a lot of history."

"Go on," Rhodey encouraged, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Maria glanced at Serena, who shrugged as if to say, Why not? "Alright, here's the short version. Back in our CIA days, Serena and I worked a lot of high-stakes missions together. We had a reputation for getting things done—no matter how impossible it seemed."

"Efficient and relentless," Serena added, shooting Maria a knowing glance. "We never backed down, even if it meant bending a few rules."

"Or breaking them," Maria corrected with a smirk.

Natasha leaned against the bar, her expression playful. "And the name? That didn't come from being unstoppable, did it?"

Serena groaned, covering her face. "No, it came from some smartass operative who thought calling us 'S&M' was hilarious. They said we worked like sadists and masochists—always pushing limits, always taking hits."

"And then," Maria continued, her tone dry, "the Rihanna song came out, and we never heard the end of it."

Thor frowned slightly. "This song... was it an anthem of battle?"

The group burst into laughter, and Rhodey patted Thor on the shoulder. "Not quite, big guy. More like an anthem of... questionable metaphors."

"But seriously," Natasha pressed, her smirk softening into genuine curiosity. "How did it start? What made you two such a good team?"

Maria tilted her head, glancing at Serena. "It started back in the CIA. We just... clicked. I was the planner, the strategist. Serena was the one who made things happen."

"Read: I was the chaos to her order," Serena added, grinning.

Maria nodded. "Pretty much. We complemented each other perfectly. It didn't take long for people to notice."

"And then S.H.I.E.L.D. happened," Serena said, her tone more reflective. "When I got promoted to Assistant Deputy Director, it was like we never skipped a beat. The nickname followed us."

Clint whistled low. "So, basically, you two ran the show while Fury was out pretending to be mysterious?"

Serena shrugged. "Someone had to keep things from falling apart."

Tony, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up. "So, let me get this straight. You two were Fury's shadow puppets, pulling strings and running missions, and we're just supposed to trust you had everyone's best interests at heart?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it a rest, Stark. We did our jobs, same as you do yours."

Serena's smirk faded as she met Tony's gaze evenly. "And if we hadn't? Half the world wouldn't still be standing. Believe what you want, but the only thing S&M ever stood for was getting the job done."

Tony raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear, but he didn't push further.

Hours had passed and the party died down. At one point during the night, when most, if not almost all of the party-goers left, someone in the group, though Serena couldn't remember who, suggested they'd order Chinese, since it was the only restaurants that were open at this hour, along with the fact it being the quickest.

Serena had found herself sitting on the couch, her heels discarded, with her legs draped across Steve's lap, and his jacket over her shoulders. From her position, she was right in between Steve and Maria, who was sitting on the floor, who were both occupied with the poker game against Tony and Rhodey. Natasha was in the middle of a conversation with Bruce, Dr. Helen Cho, who was once very talkative earlier in the evening, was now sound asleep on one of the chairs, and Clint was in the middle of a conversation with Thor.

"But it's a trick!" Clint protested, gesturing to Thor's hammer, which sat on the coffee table.

Thor huffed in amusement as he and Steve clinked their beer bottles together. "Oh no. It's much more than that."

"Uh, 'Whosover be he worthy shall haveth the power!'" Clint spoke, trying to mock Odin's voice. "Whatever man! It's a trick!."

"Well please, be my guest." Thor sighed, gesturing to the hammer, making everyone freeze in their positions, and Helen wake up from her nap.

"Come on." Tony murmured, still not buying what Thor was selling.

Clint's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Really?"

"Yes." Thor nodded, making Clint stand up in disbelief.

"Oh this is gonna be beautiful." Rhodey sighed with a shake of his head.

"He's not seriously thinking about lifting it." Serena murmured.

"Clint you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up." Tony quipped making everyone else besides Clint laugh.

"You know I've seen this before, right?" Clint asked as he grabbed the hammer and began to pull, groaning as he did so. "Jesus, I still don't know how you do it."

"Smell the silent judgement?" Tony asked.

Clint gestured to the hammer. "Please, Stark, by all means."

Tony stood up, and unbuttoned his suit jacket as he did so.

"Okay." Maria spoke with humor, at the same time Serena murmured "Oh God."

"Uh-oh." Rhodey began, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Never one to shrink from an honest challenge." Tony responded, getting murmurs from everyone at how ridiculous he was acting. "It's physics."

"Physics?" Bruce asked in confusion as he watched Tony grip the hammer.

"Right, so, it I lift it, I...I then rule Asgard?" Tony asked expectantly.

Thor nodded, with a smirk. "Yes, of course."

Tony nodded. "I will be re-instituting Prima Nocta." 

He then tried to pull the hammer, but nothing occurred. 

"I'll be right back." He declared, and moments later, he came back with an Iron Man glove on, ready to pull the hammer.

Once again, he failed.

A couple minutes later, Tony and Rhodey, who both now had their gloves on, tried pulling the hammer together.

"Are you even pulling?" Rhodey asked in disbelief.

"Are you on my team?" Tony responded, immediately waiting for an answer.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Just represent! Pull!"

"Alright, let's go!" Tony declared, as the both of them were pulling as hard as they could.

Still, nothing happened.

Banner then attempted to pick up the hammer, grunting loudly as he did, and then let out a groan like he was going to change into the Hulk, making everyone look at him warily. 

Except for Natasha, she gave him an awkward smile.

"Huh?" Was all Bruce murmured.

Steve then looked to Thor, who nodded towards the hammer, making Steve let out a sigh. Serena noticed the gesture, and moved her legs so they were tucked underneath her, allowing for Steve to get up off the couch.

"Let's go, Steve, no pressure." Tony sighed.

Steve rolled up his shirt sleeves, preparing to lift the hammer, making Maria lean up towards Serena. Serena immediately noticing the gesture, playful shoved her away, knowing she wasn't sober enough to hear a sexual joke from her closest friend.

"Come on, Cap!" Clint encouraged, as they all watch Steve grip the hammer.

No sooner Steve started to pull on the hammer, it budged a little, making everyone's eyese widen, and Thor looking petrified at if Steve could lift it.

But he didn't.

Thor let out a nervous laugh. "Nothing."

Bruce then gestured to Natasha who frowned in confusion.

"Widow?" Tony asked, fully expecting her to accept the offer.

"Oh, no, no." Natasha began, as she started to take a sip of her beer. "That's not a question i need answered...Hill, Pierce, do you guys want to try."

Maria put her hands up. "I'm good, Serena?"

Serena shook her head. "It's not worth it, probably won't even move, if I try it."

"You guys should do it." Helen encouraged.

"We're so not worthy." Serena joked back, making Maria nod in agreement.

"Because it wouldn't lift for a double-agent anyways." Tony murmured under his breath, which didn't go unnoticed by Serena or Steve.

"All deference to the man who wouldn't be king, but it's rigged." Tony explained, returning to his normal tone of voice.

"You bet your ass." Clint nodded in agreement.

"Steve, he said a bad language word." Maria said with amusement as she pointed to Clint.

"Did you tell everyone about that?" Steve asked in disbelief, as he looked to Tony.

"I did." Serena smirked, making Steve put an arm around her as he sat back down on the couch.

"The handle's imprinted, right? Like a security code." Tony asked, as he looked to Thor for confirmation. "'Whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprints' is, I think, the literal translation?"

"Yes, well that's, uh, that's a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one." Thor explained as he stood up, tossed his hammer into the air, then caught it. "You're all not worthy."

Just as everyone began to protest, a loud screeching noise occured in the room. making almost everyone cover their ears. As the noise faded, Tony pulled out his phone in confusion, as he was trying to pinpoint what occurred. That's when everyone stood up from their seats, as they watched one of the Iron Legion's heavily damaged suits, stumble into the room.

"Worthy... No, how could you be worthy? You're all killers." The suit explained.

"Stark." Steve sternly said, glancing to Tony who was furiously tapping on his phone.

"JARVIS." Tony began, speaking into his phone.

"I'm sorry, I was asleep. Or... I was a-dream?" The suit continued.

"Reboot, Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit." Tony continued into his phone.

"There was a terrible noise... and I was tangled in... in... strings. I had to kill the other guy." The suit sighed, almost like he was shrugging off the words he was saying. "He was a good guy."

Serena frowned. "You killed someone?"

"Wouldn't have been my first call. But, down in the real world we're faced with ugly choices...you know that better than anyone." The suit continued.

Thor frowned in confusion. "Who sent you?"

That's when a recording of Tony's voice came through the suit.

"I see a suit of armor around the world."

Bruce's eyes widened in disbelief. "Ultron!"

"In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this... chrysalis." Ultron explained. "But I'm ready. I'm on a mission."

"What mission?" Natasha frowned.

"Peace in our time." Ultron declared.

That's when the walls behind Ultron exploded, allowing for several Iron Legion bots to barge into the room, attacking the group. As they flew forward, Steve kicked the coffee table up...but the robots, crashed through it, causing both Steve and Serena to be knocked over the back of the couch and onto the floor, while Rhodey got knocked through a window.

"Rhodey!" Natasha shouted with concern

Steve landed slightly rough on Serena, and he could've sworn he heard something crack in that moment. 

"You alright?" Steve asked, moving a piece of hair out of her face, and checking her to see if her hurt her.

She nodded. "I'm fine, go!"

Just as Steve got up off the floor, and started to tackle one of the robots, it immediately sensed who was attacking him, and backed him directly into the concrete wall.

"Pierce!" Maria called tossing a Glock to Serena, allowing for the two of them to start shooting towards the remaining robots. 

It was in that moment, that Serena noticed one of the robots closing in on Helen. Serena, being the caring individual she was, immediately shot the robot down, saving Helen in a matter of seconds.

"Are you ok, Dr. Cho?" Serena asked with concern, helping her up.

She nodded. "Thank you."

Just as she spoke, Steve had destroyed the last remaining robot with his shield.

"That was dramatic! I'm sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to...evolve? With these? These puppets?." Ultron explained as he crushed one of the destroyed Iron Legion heads. "There's only one path to peace: The Avengers' extinction."

It was in that moment, that Thor threw his hammer, allowing for Ultron's body to be destroyed.

But that wasn't the end.

"I had strings, but now I'm free." Ultron spoke quietly, before the lights in the robot went out.

In a matter of moments, the entire group of people gathered in the lab, where Bruce pulled up the files they had on Ultron. He shook his head in disbelief.

"All our work is gone." He declared with a shake of his head. "Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch."

"He's been in everything. Files, surveillance." Natasha concluded. "Probably knows more about us than we know about each other."

Rhodey let out a frustrated sigh. "He's in your files, he's in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?"

"Nuclear codes." Maria spoke from her seated position, as Serena picked glass out of her foot.

"Nuclear codes." Rhodey nodded in agreement. "Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still can."

"Nukes? He said he wanted us dead." Serena sighed with a frown, as she looked up from Maria's foot. She let out a slight groan in pain as she shifted her stance.

"He didn't say dead. He said extinct." Steve corrected, his gaze softening as he looked to Serena.

Clint nodded. "He also said he killed somebody."

"But there wasn't anyone else in the building." Maria retorted.

Tony nodded. "Yes there was."

He then pulled up a 3D image of JARVIS's now destroyed consciousness, making everyone's eyes look at it in disbelief.

"This is insane." Bruce said in disbelief.

"JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense." Steve sighed, as he crossed his arms.

Bruce shook his head. "No, Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage."

That's when Thor, dressed in full Asgardian battle armor, entered the room, grabbed Tony by the throat, and held him up into the air.

"Woah, woah, woah! It's going around." Clint said with slight shock and annoyance.

"Come on. Use your words, buddy." Tony quipped, trying to find humor in the situation.

A dark smirk came onto Thor's face. "I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark."

"Thor!" Steve barked. "The Legionnaire."

It was only then, that Thor released Tony from his grasp, allowing for Stark to drop to the floor, attempting to catch his breath. 

"Trail went cold about a hundred miles out but it's headed north, and it has the scepter." Thor spoke with anger. "Now we have to retrieve it, again."

Natasha shook her head. "The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron."

"I don't understand." Helen began, who was silent this whole time. "You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?"

In that moment, Tony then started to laugh. Making everyone in the room look at him in shock. Serena's green eyes narrowed in disbelief.

'Wait till Fury hears this.' She thought to herself, though the exchange of glances that occurred between her and Maria, showed that they were both thinking the same thing.

"You think this is funny?" Thor asked in disbelief.

"No. It's probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so... is it so... it is. It's so terrible." Tony retorted with sarcasm.

But Thor's anger didn't leave his body. "This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand."

Tony shook is head, still not letting up. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It is funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this."

"Tony, maybe this might not be the time to--"Bruce began, trying to tell his fellow scientist to calm down.

Tony turned around, with sarcasm, and slight annoyance heavily present in his eyes.

"Really?! That's it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls."

"Only when I've created a murder bot." Bruce retorted.

Tony shook his head. "We didn't. We weren't even close. Were we close to an interface?"

"Well, you did something right. And you did it right here." Steve explained as he stepped forward. "The Avengers were supposed to be different than S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Different? With Fury’s protégés on board? Please." Tony asked snidely, gesturing to Maria, who was now attending to Serena's broken ribs.

Serena’s jaw tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "If you have something to say, Stark, say it."

"Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?" Tony asked with sarcasm, completely ignoring Serena's challenge.

"No, it's never come up." Rhodey replied with an eyeroll.

In fact, everyone was rolling their eyes in that moment.

They had heard and seen it too many times.

"Saved New York?"

"Never heard that."

"Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it." Tony began. "We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's... that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that?"

"Together." Steve uttered in all seriousness.

"We'll lose." Tony retorted.

"Then we'll do that together, too." Steve explained, in all honesty, making a quiet sigh come out of Serena. "Thor's right. Ultron's calling us out. And I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place. Let's start making it smaller."

Serena glanced at him, her mind racing. “I can contact my mother. If anyone in the intelligence community has picked up on Ultron’s movements, she’d know.”

The room shifted as everyone turned their attention to her. Her offer was logical, but mentioning Felicita de Fontaine Pierce—Director of the CIA and Serena’s mother—always added weight to any conversation. And tension.

Tony let out a sharp, humorless laugh, cutting through the moment. “Oh, of course. Why wouldn’t Fury’s little shadow operative suggest calling Mommy to clean up the mess?”

“Tony—” Steve started, but Tony held up a hand to stop him.

“No, no. Let’s hear her out,” Tony continued, pacing the room. His tone was mocking, every word sharpened like a dagger. “Because if there’s one thing we can trust, it’s Serena Pierce and her family coming through. Oh, wait—wasn’t your dad running HYDRA? He must’ve been great at parties.”

Serena’s face hardened, but she stayed composed. “I am not my father.”

Tony ignored her, his eyes narrowing. “You sure about that? You’ve got the same knack for walking in shadows and pulling strings. The CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D.—hell, you’ve probably got Fury on speed dial right now, don’t you? How do we know you’re not still playing some long game for him?”

“That’s enough,” Maria snapped, her tone cold. “You’re crossing a line.”

Tony swung toward her, his expression sharp. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about you, Hill. You’re just as bad. You two were Fury’s left and right hands, weren’t you? The Twisted Sisters of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Maria’s jaw clenched, her composure cracking. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Tony shot back. “The Twisted Sisters—always cleaning up Fury’s messes, always lurking in the background. You faked his death, didn’t you? You two were his most loyal little puppets.”

“Enough!” Maria barked, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. “You don’t get to stand there and question my loyalty or my decisions. I did my job, Stark. And if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Your job?” Tony’s voice rose. “Your job was lying, manipulating, and covering for Fury while the rest of us were on the front lines. You and Pierce were Fury’s personal chess pieces, and now you expect us to trust you?”

Maria stepped forward, her anger radiating off her in waves. “You think you’re better, Tony? You built Ultron, and now we’re all cleaning up your mess. So spare me the self-righteous bullshit.”

The room went silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Clint finally stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. “Alright, let’s take it down a notch. We’re all on the same side here.”

Tony scoffed, turning his sharp gaze back to Serena. “Are we? Because as far as I can tell, we’ve got a ticking time bomb in the room.”

“Tony, that’s enough,” Natasha said, her voice firm. “You’re going too far.”

“Too far?” Tony sneered, gesturing toward Serena. “She’s Fury’s little prodigy. Groomed in the CIA, trained to lie, manipulate, and do whatever it takes. She didn’t even touch HYDRA cells during her time in SHIELD, did she? Hell, her father was on the World Security Council and running HYDRA right under everyone’s noses, and now we’re supposed to believe she’s trustworthy?”

“I didn’t know,” Serena said quietly, her voice steady but strained. “I didn’t know who he really was.”

Tony laughed bitterly. “And when you did? You killed him, right? Cleaned up the family mess. Real noble of you, Pierce. But let me tell you something—you can’t outrun your blood.”

Serena’s fists clenched, but Maria spoke first. “That’s enough! You don’t get to stand there and question her like this. She’s earned her place here.”

“Oh, has she?” Tony shot back. “You’ve known her since she was what, twelve? That’s real comforting. You two have been thick as thieves for years. Always covering for each other, always cleaning up after each other. Twisted Sisters indeed.”

Maria took a step closer, her voice shaking with anger. “I’ve known her since she was twelve because I saw potential in her. She’s not like her father, and she’s not whatever twisted picture you’re trying to paint.”

Tony smirked coldly. “Oh, spare me the loyalty speech. You’re just as bad, Hill. You were Fury’s shadow, always cleaning up his dirt, always justifying it. You’re not soldiers—you’re cleanup crew. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

“Tony,” Rhodey interjected, stepping forward, his tone firm. “That’s enough. You’re out of line.”

“Am I?” Tony turned to Rhodey, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I’m not the one who brought Fury’s pet projects into the Avengers and expected us to trust them.”

“That’s enough!” Steve’s voice boomed, cutting through the escalating argument. “You don’t get to stand there and tear people down because you’re angry. Serena has done nothing but prove herself. She’s earned her place.”

Tony let out a bitter laugh, turning to Steve. “Oh, of course, you’d say that. But let’s be honest—the only reason you’re vouching for her is because you’re sleeping with her.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Serena’s face paled, her eyes wide with shock. Maria’s hands curled into fists, and Natasha’s jaw tightened in anger. Clint stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“You’re way out of line, Stark,” Clint said sharply. “Apologize. Now.”

Tony held his ground, his expression defiant. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

“That’s not what anyone’s thinking,” Natasha said, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re projecting your anger onto the wrong people.”

Rhodey stepped in again, his voice firm. “Tony, enough. You’ve made your point. Let it go.”

Tony shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and stormed out of the lab. The room remained silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

The tension in the lab lingered like a storm cloud long after Tony had stormed out. Serena felt her chest tighten, the weight of the argument pressing against her ribcage. Between Tony's cutting words and the gnawing ache from her broken ribs, the atmosphere felt suffocating.

She needed air.

"I'm heading upstairs," Serena murmured to Steve, who immediately stepped closer, his concern evident.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked softly, his blue eyes searching hers as though already anticipating her answer.

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. "No. I just... I need a minute."

He hesitated, his hand brushing hers briefly, offering silent reassurance. "Okay. I'll check on you later."

Serena turned and walked toward the elevator, her movements slower than usual as the pain in her ribs flared with each step. She pressed the button and leaned against the wall as the doors closed behind her. Finally alone, she let out a shaky breath, her composure beginning to crack. Tony’s words echoed in her mind, harsher now in the solitude of her thoughts.

"The Twisted Sisters. Fury’s puppets. Just like your father—untrustworthy."

Her stomach churned, the insults digging into the deepest parts of her insecurities. No matter how much Maria or Steve had tried to defend her, the weight of Tony’s accusations lingered. Did the others see her that way too? Even Maria, her closest friend and ally, couldn’t shield her from the doubt clawing its way into her heart. And what about Steve? Did he believe in her, or was he just trying to protect her?

The elevator dinged, and she stepped onto the private floor she shared with Steve. Molly greeted her immediately, padding over with a soft whine and a wagging tail. Her warmth was a small comfort, a reminder that not everything in her life felt fractured.

“Hey,” Serena whispered, crouching to run her fingers through Molly’s fur. “At least you don’t care what Stark thinks.”

Molly nuzzled her hand, her steady presence grounding Serena for a moment. Straightening with a wince, Serena made her way to the couch, the soft light of the living room providing a welcome reprieve from the sterile brightness of the lab. Molly followed closely, climbing up onto the couch beside her and resting her head on Serena’s lap.

Reaching for the remote, Serena flipped on the TV, scrolling aimlessly until a familiar tune filled the room. It was Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Her favorite movie.

The screen showed Holly Golightly sitting on her fire escape, her guitar in hand, as she began to sing.

“Moon River, wider than a mile…”

Serena exhaled slowly, the melody wrapping around her like a blanket. She’d first fallen in love with the film as a teenager, finding solace in Holly’s whimsical but vulnerable nature. Now, it was a bittersweet reminder of simpler times—before the CIA, before S.H.I.E.L.D., before HYDRA. Back when her life felt like her own.

As Audrey Hepburn’s voice crooned through the room, Serena’s thoughts drifted. Her father’s voice, his manipulative lessons about trust and control, mingled with Tony’s scathing accusations. She tried to push them away, but they clung to her like shadows.

“Two drifters, off to see the world…”

The elevator dinged again, and Serena looked up as Steve stepped into view. He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene: the dim light of the TV, Molly nestled against Serena’s side, and the faint traces of tears in her eyes.

Steve recognized the song immediately. He knew how much this movie meant to her, how it had become her comfort in the chaos of their lives. He’d even teased her once about how many times she’d rewatched it, only for her to insist that some classics never got old.

“You know,” he said softly, walking over to the couch, “this is my favorite part.”

Serena blinked, startled by his sudden presence. Her lips curved into a faint smile despite herself. “Yeah?”

He nodded, settling beside her. Molly shifted to rest her head on his leg, seemingly pleased with the company.

Steve reached out, brushing a stray tear from Serena’s cheek. “Holly’s dreaming about something better. Something worth holding onto. That’s not a bad thing to hope for, is it?”

Serena looked down, her hand absently stroking Molly’s fur. “Do you think I’ll ever get there?” she asked quietly.

Steve didn’t hesitate. “I know you will.”

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe I don’t deserve it. Maybe I’m just—”

“Stop,” Steve interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re not who Tony says you are. You’re not your father. You’re not some tool or puppet. You’re you. And that’s enough.”

Her lip quivered as the emotions she’d been holding back finally spilled over. She leaned into him, careful of her ribs, as silent tears traced down her cheeks. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Steve wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “It is to me. And it always will be.”

The movie continued in the background, the soft glow casting warm light over the room. Serena closed her eyes, her breathing slowing as she listened to the steady rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat. Molly shifted closer, her presence a quiet but powerful comfort.

For now, this was enough. But as the credits began to roll, Serena couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever truly climb out of the shadow of her past—and whether she’d ever stop feeling like the weight of it all would pull her under.

 

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

The soft hum of the coffee maker was the only sound in the kitchen as Serena poured herself a cup, still groggy from the night before. She wore an old CIA sweatshirt that was from her time in the Academy, her ribs tightly bandaged beneath it, along with a pair of black leggings. Molly sat at her feet, tail wagging gently, sensing her owner’s unease.

Steve entered quietly, still in his workout gear, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He gave Serena a small smile as he grabbed a towel to dry his face.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice gentle.

"Morning," she replied, handing him a cup of coffee. "You were up early."

"Needed to clear my head," he admitted, taking a sip. "How are your ribs?"

She shrugged, wincing slightly. "I’ll survive. It’s not the first time I’ve had broken ribs."

He frowned, setting his cup down. "That’s not exactly reassuring."

Before she could respond, Maria's voice echoed through the room, on the intercom calm but urgent. "Cap, Pierce, I've got news on Ultron, you're going to want to get down here quick."

Steve exchanged a glance with Serena, his jaw tightening. "Let’s go.

No sooner they exited the elevator, Maria met them, as they began to walk up the stairs, heading towards the lab and conference room.

"He's all over the globe. Robotics labs, weapons facilities, jet propulsion labs, reports of a metal man, or men, coming in and emptying the place." She explained as she started to scroll through her tablet.

"Fatalities?" Steve asked with a frown.

Maria shrugged. "Only when engaged. Mostly guys left in a fugue state going on about old memories, worst fears, and something too fast to see."

"Maximoffs." Serena murmured, as the trio continued to ascend the stairs.

"Well, that makes sense he'd go to them, they have someone in common." Steve said with a slight huff.

But Maria shook her head, handing Steve the tablet. "Not anymore."

On the tablet's screen was a photo of Strucker's dead body, within a NATO prison, with the word PEACE written in blood on the wall next to him. Serena shook her head in disbelief at the sight, words couldn't even come out of her mouth to describe it.

Grotesque, was the only one she could think of.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha asked, as she noticed Serena walking over to her. "Where's Steve?"

"A little sore." She admitted. "Getting Clint."

No sooner Steve came into view, Tony frowned at the tablet that Steve had in his hands. Thor however took the tablet first.

"What's this?" Tony asked with a frown.

"A message." Steve sternly replied, as Thor practically slapped the tablet on Tony's chest as he passed it to him, "Ultron killed Strucker."

"And he did a Banksy at the crime scene, just for us." Tony murmured, trying to find dark humor in this entire mess.

"This is a smokescreen." Natasha sighed, as she crossed her arms. "Why send a message when you've just given a speech?"

"Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss." Serena commented, crossing her arms, wincing at the pain it had.

"Yeah, I bet he..." Natasha began clicking a couple keys on the computer. "Yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased."

"Not everything." Clint commented.

Within the next half hour, the entire team filled the conference room going through the paper files they had on Strucker. Each person took their own box, and was going through each document thoroughly. 

"Known associates." Steve murmured. "Strucker had a lot of friends."

"Well, these people are all horrible." Bruce said with a sigh as he looked over a photo of a man.

"Wait. I know that guy." Tony said, gesturing for Bruce to pass him the photo he was looking at. "He operates off the African coast, black market arms." 

Steve gave Tony a frown in disbelief at what he just said.

Tony shook his head. "There are conventions, alright? You meet people, I didn't sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game changer, it was all very 'Ahab.'"

Thor gestured to the back of the man's neck. "What's this?"

"Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it..." Tony began.

Thor shook his head. "No, those are tattoos, this is a brand."

Bruce then started to run the marking in the computer and eventually a match occured. "Oh, yeah. It's a word in an African dialect meaning thief, in a much less friendly way."

"What dialect?" Steve asked.

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he looked to the screen. "Wakanada...? Wa...Wa...Wakanda."

Tony turned to Steve, his voice lowering. "If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods..."

Steve shook his head. "I thought your father said he got the last of it?"

"I don't follow." Bruce frowned in confusion. "What comes out of Wakanda?"

Tony glanced to Steve's shield, which was resting against the windowsill. "The strongest metal on earth."

"Where is this guy now?" Steve asked with a frown.

"Salvage Yard, off the African Coast." Maria explained from her seat at the table. "You can't just waltz into Africa unannounced. Wakanda, in particular, is an entirely different game. They’ve closed their borders to outsiders, and South Africa doesn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for uninvited foreign interference."

"Wakanda guards its sovereignty fiercely," Natasha added. "And with good reason. Their vibranium is the most sought-after resource on the planet. If we step in without clearance, we’re asking for trouble."

"So, we don’t get caught," Clint suggested nonchalantly, tossing a pen into the air and catching it.

Maria shot him a sharp look. "This isn’t a back-alley arms deal, Clint. This is Wakanda. They don’t play games, and they don’t give second chances. If we screw this up, it won’t just be us—it’ll be the Avengers as a whole on the chopping block."

Steve leaned forward, his voice steady but firm. "We need to stop Ultron before he can get his hands on vibranium. If that means diplomacy, we try diplomacy. But we don’t let him slip away."

"Great," Tony interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let’s just call them up. ‘Hi, Wakanda. Mind if we pop in for some world-saving? Promise we’ll be out before dinner.’ Sure, that’ll work."

Serena, who had been quietly observing the conversation from her seat, finally spoke up. "There might be a way to get us unofficial clearance. My brother’s stationed in Wakanda. He’s close with the prince—practically considers him family."

The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at her.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his skepticism palpable. "Oh, here we go. Another story about the amazing Nick Pierce. Let me guess, he’s got Wakanda on speed dial too?"

Serena’s jaw tightened, but she kept her tone even. "Nick’s been friends with the Prince of Wakanda for years. He’s earned their trust. If anyone can get us the green light without raising alarms, it’s him."

Maria nodded thoughtfully. "She’s right. If Nick has an in with Wakanda’s leadership, it’s worth a shot."

Steve looked at Serena, his expression curious but supportive. "How close is he with the prince?"

"Close enough to call him a brother," Serena replied. "And if there’s one thing Wakandans value, it’s loyalty. If Nick can make our case, it might give us the opening we need."

Tony scoffed. "Oh, great. Let’s put our fate in the hands of a Pierce. Because that’s worked out so well in the past."

"Tony, enough," Steve said sharply, his gaze narrowing.

"No, no, let’s hear her out," Tony continued, pacing. "We’re going to Wakanda—probably the most secretive nation on Earth—and our brilliant plan is to rely on Pierce family connections? Yeah, that sounds foolproof."

Serena’s expression remained calm, though her fists clenched at her sides. "It’s better than charging in blind and causing an international incident."

"She’s right," Natasha said, her voice measured. "Wakanda doesn’t just let people in. If Nick can smooth the way, it’s our best chance to keep this mission under the radar."

Thor, standing at the back of the room with Mjolnir in hand, added, "It seems that Wakanda’s trust is hard-earned, but it is not impossible. If they see this as a matter of honor, they may be inclined to aid us. However, we must tread lightly."

"Or," Clint said, smirking, "we just let Thor do all the talking. That hammer’s a pretty convincing argument."

Serena smiled faintly. "Flattering, but Wakandans are not easily swayed by spectacle."

Maria turned to Serena. "Are you sure Nick can do this? If he vouches for us, it puts him in a precarious position."

Serena nodded. "He can handle it. And he understands the stakes. He knows what happens if someone like Ultron gets his hands on vibranium."

Bruce adjusted his glasses, looking up from his tablet. "And if Wakanda says no? What’s our backup plan?"

"We cross that bridge if we get there," Steve said firmly. "Right now, we focus on getting in without making this a global incident."

Tony threw up his hands. "Fine. Call your brother. Let’s see if he can work his magic. But when this goes sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Serena ignored Tony’s jab and glanced at Maria. "I’ll make the call from the tower’s secure line. If we’re doing this, we need their approval fast."

Maria gave her a nod. "I’ll back you up if you need it."

As the team began to disperse, Tony muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Family ties and shadow ops. What could possibly go wrong?"

Steve shot Tony a warning look but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on Serena’s shoulder as she prepared to head for the comms room.

"You’re doing the right thing," he said quietly.

Serena nodded, her resolve firm. "Let’s hope Nick agrees."

Serena exited the conference room, her footsteps being heard with each step she made on the polished floor. The tension was palpable—Ultron was evolving faster than anyone anticipated, and his interest in vibranium raised alarms that couldn’t be ignored. She’d already presented the team with her suggestion to contact Nick, her brother, who was stationed in Africa and had close ties to T’Challa, the Prince of Wakanda. Stark, predictably, had been the loudest voice of dissent. The distrust of Stark and the slight argument that had occured were still fresh in her mind as she locked herself in the secure communications room. The stakes were too high to let Stark’s mistrust sway her. She keyed in the encrypted frequency, and moments later, Nick’s face appeared on the screen.

“Serena,” Nick greeted, his expression shifting immediately to concern. “This isn’t your usual check-in. What’s going on?”

Serena didn’t waste time. “We’ve got a situation. It’s urgent, and it could affect Wakanda.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, his brows furrowing. “Wakanda? You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Ultron,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. “It’s an artificial intelligence created by Stark, and it’s gone rogue. It’s targeting vibranium—specifically, a stockpile stolen by Ulysses Klaue in South Africa. If Klaue is on Ultron’s radar, Wakanda could be next.”

Nick exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “And I assume you’re calling me because you need Wakanda’s help?”

“No, I’m calling because we need access,” Serena clarified. “We can’t just show up unannounced. But if T’Challa is made aware of the threat, maybe we can work together to stop this before it escalates.”

Nick’s jaw tightened. “You know how protective Wakanda is about its borders, especially when it comes to vibranium. If I bring this to T’Challa, I need more than just ‘Ultron might attack.’”

Serena leaned forward, her green eyes sharp. “Ultron doesn’t deal in ‘might.’ He’s already killed Strucker, wiped out SHIELD’s digital archives, and dismantled JARVIS. He’s not going to stop until he has what he wants, and vibranium is on that list. We’ve already intercepted intel pointing to Klaue as a connection. If we’re right, Ultron’s next move is inevitable.”

Nick stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll talk to T’Challa, but you need to tread carefully. Wakanda doesn’t take kindly to outsiders—especially not ones who bring trouble with them.”

“I know,” Serena said, her voice softening. “That’s why I came to you. Nick, this isn’t just about stopping Ultron. It’s about protecting Wakanda.”

Nick’s expression softened slightly. “I’ll see what I can do. But Serena... be careful. This AI sounds like it’s capable of a lot more than you’re letting on.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered under her breath, then looked back at him. “Thank you, Nick. I owe you one.”

Nick’s smirk returned, albeit faintly. “You owe me more than one. I’ll let you know when I hear back from T’Challa.”

With a sigh, Serena ran a hand through her hair as she leaned back in her seat. This entire operation wasn't going to be easy. She knew that the moment she asked her brother for help. Especially since she hated asking her brother for help. 

While she was waiting to hear back from Nick, she began to scroll through the CIA's files on Klaue, at the idea she'd find something. Ten minutes after she spoke to her brother, her secure line started to buzz. She immediately straightened, no sooner she saw the crest of the Wakandan Royal Family appear on her screen.

Pressing the connect button, the face of Prince T’Challa filled the monitor. His sharp, regal features were calm, but his intense gaze made it clear this was no casual call.

“Ms. Pierce,” T’Challa began, his voice smooth and formal. “I have considered Hunter’s proposal. I have agreed to his terms.”

She smiled internally at the mention of Nick. She mentally laughed at herself, as she had completely forgot for a small moment that her brother is called by his middle name, Hunter, by the Wakandan Royal Family. 

An odd thing that she would never understand, but she didn't question it.

Serena let out a small breath of relief, keeping her composure as she nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness. We appreciate your cooperation.”

T’Challa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Do not mistake this for trust. My father and I are reluctant to allow outsiders access to Wakandan concerns, but Hunter made a compelling argument.”

“I understand,” Serena said earnestly. “We’re only here to stop Ultron and prevent any more of Klaue’s dealings. Nothing more.”

T’Challa leaned closer to the screen, his tone measured but firm. “There is one condition, Ms. Pierce. Any vibranium you recover—whether from Klaue or elsewhere—must be returned to Wakanda. This is non-negotiable.”

Serena nodded immediately. “Of course. That’s entirely fair. Our goal is to stop Ultron, not to claim what doesn’t belong to us.”

T’Challa studied her closely for a moment, his silence heavy. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Good. I give you full sanction to operate off the African Coast. Do not give me a reason to regret this, Ms. Pierce.”

“You have my word,” Serena replied, her voice steady. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

T’Challa inclined his head, and the call ended abruptly, leaving Serena staring at the now-black screen. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and leaned back in her chair, the weight of the prince’s words settling on her.

Serena left the communications room and made her way to the central operations hub, where the team was still reviewing their strategy. Steve stood near the table with Natasha and Clint, discussing potential fallback plans. Tony and Bruce were seated across from them, engrossed in a debate about Ultron’s programming.

“Got an update,” Serena said as she entered, drawing everyone’s attention. “T’Challa’s agreed to give us full sanction to operate off the African Coast.”

“That’s progress,” Steve said, his tone encouraging. “Did he have any conditions?”

Serena hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking toward Tony, who was already watching her with his usual suspicion. “Yes. Any vibranium we recover has to be returned to Wakanda. That’s their non-negotiable term.”

“Fair,” Natasha said with a nod. “It’s their resource. They don’t want us—or anyone else—getting ideas.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That makes sense, but does Wakanda have the means to contain it? I mean, we’re talking about a resource Ultron wants to weaponize. What happens if someone else comes for it?”

“They’ve kept it out of the wrong hands for centuries,” Serena replied, crossing her arms. “They’ll handle it better than anyone else could.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “And we’re just supposed to trust that? No oversight, no guarantees? We’re handing over something Ultron could use to people who barely let the world know they exist.”

“It’s their property,” Steve said, his voice firm as he glanced at Tony. “It’s not our place to question how they protect it.”

Tony scoffed. “Right. Because trusting strangers has worked out so well for us lately.”

Serena’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm. “This isn’t about trust, Stark. It’s about respecting boundaries. If we don’t honor their terms, we lose their cooperation. And without that, we won’t even make it past the border.”

Steve stepped in before Tony could retort, his voice steady but authoritative. “Serena’s right. We stick to the terms. We’re here to stop Ultron, not make enemies.”

Tony muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t push further. The team returned to planning, the tension lingering but manageable. Serena caught Steve’s eye briefly, his small nod reassuring her that she’d made the right call.

As the room buzzed with activity, Serena couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow’s meeting would be a turning point—not just for the mission, but for the fragile trust the Avengers were trying to build with each other.

By mid-afternoon, the team was assembled in the Quinjet, the mood somber but focused. Serena sat beside Steve, her hand resting lightly on her ribs. He glanced at her, his concern barely hidden.

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" he asked quietly.

"I’ll manage," she replied, her voice steady. "This isn’t my first mission with broken ribs."

"It doesn’t make it any easier," he murmured.

As the Quinjet ascended, Maria’s voice came through the comms. "We’ve got confirmation on Klaue’s location. A shipping yard on the coast of South Africa. He’s expecting a buyer."

"Ultron," Steve said grimly.

Serena tightened her grip on her seat, the weight of what lay ahead settling over her. They were stepping into uncharted territory, facing an enemy unlike any they had encountered before. And this time, the stakes weren’t just personal—they were global.

Tony, Thor, and Steve would take Ultron head on, while Natasha, Clint, and Serena would secure the perimeter. Bruce was instructed to stay in the Quinjet...unless there was a Code: Green.

The plan was simple, take down Klaue and get the vibranium before Ultron gets there. 

Only...they were too late.

By the time they arrived, Ultron, and the Maximoffs had already gotten there and had brutally injured Klaue, by cutting off the man's arm.

"Ahh, Junior." Tony began as he landed on the walkway across from Ultron, allowing for Thor and Steve to come up alongside him. "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

Ultron shrugged. "If I have to."

"We don't have to break anything." Thor reasoned.

"Clearly you've never made an omelet." Ultron countered.

Tony nodded. "He beat me by one second."

"Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark." Pietro began as he stepped forward. "It's what, comfortable? Like old times?"

"This was never my life." Tony sighed, looking at the weaponry below them.

"You two can still walk away from this." Steve began, trying to reason with the twins.

"Oh, we will." Wanda replied with sarcasm.

"I know you've suffered." 

"Uuughh! Captain America. God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war." Ultron began with utter disgust. "I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but..."

"If you believe in peace, then let us keep it." Thor began, trying to be the voice of reason.

"I think you're confusing peace with quiet." Ultron countered.

"Yuh-huh." Tony sarcastically replied. "What's the Vibranium for?"

"I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan--" Ultron began, but no sooner he uttered the words, he immediately attacked Tony, while his newly built drones attacked Steve and Thor. The Maximoffs also joined the fight as well...along with Klaue's mercenaries.

Clint looked to Serena who was standing right next to him, eager and ready to fight. 

"Alright I take the left, you take the right?" Clint offered, already loading his bow. 

Serena loaded one of her Glocks as a response, already eager to fight.

"Ok, have it your way." Clint replied with a laugh as the two of them started to fight the drones, and mercenaries. 

Serena was taking down drones with ease. Using a mixture of her weaponry, along with her perfected hand-to-hand combat skills. This however did not go unnoticed by Wanda, who had already gotten to Natasha, Thor, and Steve...and had messed with their minds.

Serena's was next.

Serena stayed close to Clint, her movements fluid and precise, clearing a path through the gunfire. But just as she turned to check her flank, a flash of red light from Wanda's hand struck her, and everything around her dissolved. It felt like being submerged in icy water, her senses numbed and her mind seized. The world blurred into an oppressive silence, and everything she thought she knew unraveled.

Serena stood in a familiar room, one that sent a cold shiver racing down her spine. It was the CIA’s underground training facility. The smell of sweat and blood mingled with the sterile chill of the air, and the hum of overhead fluorescent lights buzzed like an ever-present warning.

“Get up!” Val’s voice snapped like a whip. Serena, barely eighteen, lay crumpled on the mat, her body trembling. The young version of herself was battered, her knees scraped and bleeding, her knuckles swollen and raw from hours of sparring.

Val loomed over her, dressed in her impeccable suit, her expression cold and unyielding. “You think this is pain? This is nothing. Out there, pain doesn’t stop. It doesn’t give you a chance to breathe. If you can’t stand now, Pierce, you’ll die out there.”

“I can’t...” the younger Serena whispered, her voice shaking with exhaustion.

Val crouched down, her eyes narrowing. “Can’t? Can’t? That’s not a word in your vocabulary, and if it is, you don’t deserve to be here.”

The scene shifted abruptly. The sterile training room blurred and reformed into her childhood home—a lavish estate filled with polished wood floors, crystal chandeliers, and the lingering scent of cigars. Serena’s stomach churned at the sight of her father, Alexander Pierce, seated at the grand dining table.

He looked up at her, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “You’re just like me, Serena. No matter how hard you try to run, you’ll never escape it. You were born for this—crafted by me, molded by me.”

“I’m not like you,” Serena said, her voice firm but trembling.

Alexander leaned back in his chair, gesturing to the lavish room around them. “Everything you are comes from me. Your intelligence. Your ruthlessness. Your ability to survive. You’ll never shake that. It’s in your blood.”

The walls of the dining room twisted and distorted, turning into a darkened, endless corridor. From the shadows, figures emerged—faces of people she had killed, their vacant, accusing eyes locking onto hers. Her breathing hitched as she stepped back, their silent stares burning into her.

“You think you’re a hero now?” Val’s voice echoed, blending with Alexander’s. “You’re nothing more than a weapon. A tool to be used and discarded.”

Serena fell to her knees, clutching her head as the voices grew louder, overlapping and drowning her thoughts. “Stop it!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “I’m not him! I’m not like either of you!”

The figures surrounded her, their presence suffocating. Her father’s voice rose above the chaos. “You’ll never escape who you are, Serena. Never.”

"Pierce how are we doing?" Clint asked, turning around to see Serena on the ground, and Wanda over her.

That's when Clint fired an electromagnetic pulse arrow that electrocuted Wanda, causing Pietro to grab her, before speeding off.

"I've done the whole mind control thing. Not a fan. Yeah, you better run." Clint taunted, before rushing over to Serena, and gently start to shake her, to try and get a reaction out of her. "Pierce, Pierce, it's Clint...Something happened to Pierce! Whoever's standing, we gotta move! Guys?"

No one answered on the comms. Clint continued to try and not only defend himself, but also get Serena back into consciousness, but it wasn't working. In a matter of moments, Steve, who finally heard Clint's comms, rushed over to where they were stationed to see Serena, sitting on the ground against a wall.

“Serena! Serena!” Steve’s voice cut through the haze, but it felt distant, like it was coming from the other side of a glass wall.

Serena’s body remained rigid, her green eyes wide and unfocused as if she were staring straight through him. Her breathing was shallow, and her lips parted slightly, as though she were trying to speak but couldn’t form the words. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and she didn’t respond to the hand Steve gently placed on her shoulder.

“Serena, it’s me,” Steve said, his voice steady but filled with concern. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

When she didn’t react, Clint jogged over, glancing between Serena and Steve. “What the hell happened to her? She was fine a second ago, and then when I turned around, she was like this.”

“Wanda,” Steve said grimly, his eyes scanning Serena’s frozen expression. “It’s whatever she did to her.”

“Snap her out of it!” Clint urged, looking over his shoulder as gunfire and chaos raged around them.

Steve cupped Serena’s face gently, his touch firm but careful. “Serena, listen to me. It’s not real. Whatever you saw—it’s not real. You’re here. You’re with me.”

Her lips quivered, but her body remained locked in place, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Steve gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. He’d never seen her like this—so utterly paralyzed, so unlike the fierce and focused woman he knew.

“I’ve got her,” Clint said, his tone sharp as he positioned himself to provide cover. “You get her out of here.”

“No,” Steve said firmly, sliding his arm under Serena’s knees and lifting her into his arms. “I’m not leaving her.”

As he carried her toward the extraction point, her head rested against his chest, her body still unnervingly limp. Every step was punctuated by the weight of uncertainty, considering he had just experienced his own vision, that also shook him to his core...but he wasn't as affected by it as she was. 

While he was debating on telling her about what his vision was, he decided to tell her after this was all over. How he saw Peggy, who told him 'they could go home', but also Serena, who was furious at how Steve 'worried for her constantly', and how she 'gave up everything' for him.

The vision itself shook him, but after seeing at how Serena's calm and composed state was in a matter of moments, he knew that her vision was ten times worse than his.

Steve kept his voice low and soothing, speaking to her as if his words alone could pull her back.

“It’s okay, Serena. Whatever it was, it’s over now. You’re stronger than this. You’re stronger than them. Come back to me.”

By the time they reached the jet, Serena’s fingers twitched faintly, the first sign of life returning to her motionless form. But her eyes remained distant, her expression hollow. Whatever she had seen had carved deep into her psyche, leaving wounds that would take far more than words to heal.

With the help of Clint, Thor and Natasha had gotten back to the jet, both of them still clearly shaken by their visions. Bruce, who had also been manipulated by Wanda's magic, causing him to completely trash a city, was also shaken by his actions. The only two who were not affected were Tony, and Clint (who was flying the Quinjet).

"The news is loving you guys. Nobody else is." Maria explained over video chat. "There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air."

"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asked expectantly.

"Already on the scene. How's the team?" Maria asked with worry.

"Everyone's...we took a hit. We'll shake it off." Tony said with a sigh.

"Well for now I'd stay in stealth mode, and stay away from here."

Tony let out a soft groan. "So, run and hide?"

Maria shook her head. "Until we can find Ultron, I don't have a lot else to offer."

"Neither do we." He replied before walking towards Clint in the cockpit. "Hey, you wanna switch out?"

Clint shook his head. "No, I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now's a good time, cause we're still a few hours out."

"A few hours from where?" 

A small smile came on Clint's face. "A safe house."

 

Notes:

Fill free to comment. Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

The Quinjet descended quietly and very early that morning, its engines humming low as it landed in the open field outside Clint's farm. The Avengers were subdued, the weight of Wanda's mind games and the aftermath of Bruce's rampage in Africa hanging heavy in the air. Bruce had retreated into himself, his guilt a palpable weight. Natasha sat nearby, her eyes sharp but her demeanor softer than usual, glancing toward him every so often. Thor paced at the back of the jet, his expression troubled, muttering about visions of Asgard's doom. Steve, while still riled by the vision he had of Peggy and Serena, somehow found himself forgetting the chilling message both women had spoke to him. He was however, focused entirely on Serena, and her mental state.

She had been silent since they left Africa, save for soft murmurs in French that broke through the quiet every now and then. Her face was pale, and her hands trembled as Steve helped her down the Quinjet ramp.

"Ser," Steve said softly, keeping a steadying hand on her elbow, "we're here. You're safe."

Her lips moved, a faint whisper escaping her. "Pourquoi encore... Je n'ai rien fait..."
(Why again... I did nothing...)

Steve frowned, his concern deepening. He hadn't heard her speak French this much since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., and that was only after she'd been in the thick of chaos. "We'll figure this out. Just breathe."

"What is this place?" Thor asked in confusion as they approached the front door of the farmhouse.

Tony frowned. "A safe house?"

"Let's hope." Clint said with a shrug, as he opened the door and entered the house. "Honey, I'm home."

Almost as if on cue, Laura, Clint's heavily pregnant wife walked into the living room, from her position in the kitchen.

"Hi, company." Clint explained walking over to Laura. "Sorry I didn't call ahead."

She gave him a smile as she kissed him briefly, making everyone (except Natasha and Serena, who had both met Laura, frown in confusion."

"This is an agent of some kind." Tony murmured to Thor.

"Gentlemen, this is Laura." Clint explained, introducing Laura to the group.

She smiled. "I know all your names."

Tony, Steve, and Thor all looked at her with a slight awkwardness, whereas Natasha gave her a brief smile, and Serena was too out of it, to even address her. That's when they heard footsteps above them.

"Ooh, incoming." Clint began, as a small smile came to his face, as his kids, Cooper and Lila entered the room.

"Dad!" Lila said with excitement.

"Hi sweetheart!' Clint exclaimed with joy before kissing his son's head. "Hey buddy!! How you guys doing? Look at your face! Oh my goodness!"

"Did you bring Auntie Nat?" Lila asked innocently.

"Why don't you hug her and find out?" Natasha asked, as Lila rushed towards her, allowing for Natasha to engulf her, and pick her up into her arms.

"Sorry for barging in on you." Steve said with honesty, before he looked to Serena who was standing weakly by the doorframe.

"Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed." Tony replied with some snark, and disbelief that Clint had a family.

"Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined." Clint explained as he wrapped an arm around Cooper and Laura. "He kept it off SHIELD's files, I'd like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low."

Steve let out a small sigh, as he noticed Serena get a distant look in her eyes, not looking at Clint's family, or the team...clearly still haunted by her vision that Wanda showed her.

That's when her voice echoed in his mind.

"I gave up everything for you."

He quickly shook it out of his head, as he noticed Thor heading outside, after he stepped on some legos.

"Thor." Steve began, as he followed Thor outside. 

Thor shook his head. "I saw something in that dream. I need answers, I won't find them here."

That's when Thor took to the sky, without Steve knowing where he went.

Meanwhile inside, while some of the team members went to freshen up, along with the kids, Laura had taken notice of how beaten up and distant Serena was. Quite the difference of the woman she encountered while working with the C.I.A. on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Serena?" Laura's voice was soft with disbelief. She hurried toward her, her gaze flicking to Clint. "What happened?"

"It's been... a rough few days," Clint admitted grimly.

Just as Laura noticed how bad of a mental state Serena was in, Steve reentered the house. Laura in response, guided Serena to the couch, glancing nervously at Steve, who hovered protectively.

"Serena," Laura said gently, crouching beside her. "What's going on?"

Serena blinked slowly, her green eyes unfocused. Her lips parted, and a faint murmur escaped. "Il était là... Je pouvais le voir... le sentir..."
(He was there... I could see him... feel him...)

Steve crouched down beside her, his worry etched into his face. "Who? What did you see?"

She shook her head sharply, squeezing her eyes shut. "Je ne peux pas... c'était réel."
(I can't... it was real.)

"Panic attack," Natasha said softly from the doorway. She stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on Serena's shoulder. "I've seen this before. Let me help."

Natasha knelt beside her, her tone calm but firm. "Pierce, listen to me. Focus on my voice. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth."

Serena's breaths were shallow and uneven, her body trembling. She murmured faintly, "Valérie... je dois encore courir..."
(Valérie... I still have to run...)

Natasha squeezed her shoulder gently. "You're not running. You're safe. It's over. Breathe with me."

Steve reached for Serena's hand, his touch light. "Ser, we're right here. You're not alone."

Her breathing slowly began to even out, though her body remained tense. Laura exchanged a glance with Clint, her worry deepening.

"I've never seen her like this," Laura whispered. "She always seemed so strong."

"She is," Clint replied quietly. "She just... she's been pushed too far."

After ensuring that she was slightly comfortable, she fell asleep on the couch, finally allowing for the weight of exhaustion to take over her.

Laura rose slowly, her hands on her hips as she turned to Clint. "She needs help, Clint. Real help. Not just running from one crisis to another."

"She's not alone," Steve said firmly, his gaze not leaving Serena. "I won't let her go through this alone."

Laura hesitated before nodding, her voice soft. "She's lucky to have you."

Steve sighed, leaning back slightly. "No. I'm the lucky one."

Natasha's voice broke the heavy silence. "We should all get some rest. We'll need it."

Laura glanced at her husband, worry still etched on her face. "The guest rooms are ready. Let me get some extra blankets."

As everyone moved to settle in, Steve remained by Serena's side, refusing to leave her even as the others disappeared into the house. He gently adjusted the blanket Laura had draped over her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Rest, Ser," he whispered. "I've got you."

Murmurs of conversation carried faintly through the house as Clint and Laura exchanged quiet words, and Natasha kept an eye on Bruce, who had retreated into one of the guest rooms. The farmhouse was quiet, but the unease of the team's fractured state lingered heavily in the air. For now, all they could do was wait.

Later that day, into the late afternoon, Serena stirred, her body stiff and sore. The sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. She blinked slowly, her mind still clouded with fragments of Wanda's vision.

Steve was sitting in a chair beside her, his head resting on his hand as he dozed lightly. He stirred when she shifted, his eyes immediately locking onto hers.

"Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Je suis fatiguée..."
(I'm tired...)

Steve reached for her hand, his grip gentle. "That's okay. You've been through a lot."

Laura entered the room then, carrying a tray with tea and toast. She smiled warmly, though her concern was evident. "Thought you could use this," she said, setting the tray on the table. "You scared me yesterday."

"Je suis désolée," Serena murmured, her voice trembling.
(I'm sorry.)

"Don't apologize," Laura said firmly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

Serena managed a faint smile, though her eyes remained distant. 

Eventually, she got up off the couch to take a shower, and in that time, Steve went outside to help Tony cut firewood. The scalding water streamed down her body, washing away the physical grime from the past days but doing little to cleanse the weight pressing on her chest. Her lips moved almost involuntarily, soft murmurs in French spilling out as though the language itself could shield her from the storm in her mind.

"Je ne pouvais rien faire... je ne pouvais pas le sauver... ils m'ont tout pris..."
(I couldn't do anything... I couldn't save him... they took everything from me...)

Her voice was barely audible over the water, trembling with the raw pain that Wanda's vision had dragged to the surface. Each word cracked as it escaped her, her breath hitching in a broken rhythm. She gripped the edge of the tiled wall for support, her knuckles white.

"Pourquoi moi...? Je fais tout ce qu'ils demandent... mais c'est jamais assez..."
(Why me...? I do everything they ask... but it's never enough...)

The language of her heart spilled out, unfiltered, as her mind replayed fragments of the vision. Her father's face, the haunting echoes of Val's cruel instructions during her CIA training, the cold, sterile room where she had been broken and rebuilt, over and over.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but the images wouldn't stop. Alexander's disapproving gaze burned into her memory, his words cutting deep. "You'll never be enough, Serena. Never."

Her chest heaved, a soft sob escaping her lips as she turned her back to the stream of water, sliding down to sit on the floor of the shower. Her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them tightly as she rocked slightly, the water soaking her hair and dripping off her trembling chin.

"Je suis désolée... je suis désolée..."
(I'm sorry... I'm sorry...)

She wasn't sure who she was apologizing to—her father, her mother, Steve, herself. Maybe all of them. Maybe no one.

Once her tears dried, and the water in the shower ran cold, she carefully stepped out, wrapped a towel around herself, and got dressed. She put on a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved running shirt, a black running vest, and a CIA baseball cap. 

As soon as she trudged down the stairs, Laura and Clint's eyes widened at seeing her showered, dressed, and no longer in a daze.

"Pierce?" Clint asked carefully, getting up from his seat at the kitchen table. "You doing ok?"

Serena hesitated, before she nodded. "I'm...ok."

"You're not speaking in French anymore." Laura said with a sincere smile. "That's good."

"I needed to shower." Serena admitted, though she knows that the shower didn't really make any matters better. "I'm going to go for a run...if that's ok?"

Laura looked to Clint for an answer, knowing that Serena was still going through something, fully expecting him to say no.

"Yeah." Clint said with a small smile. "Don't be late for dinner, you know how much Laura hates that."

Serena gave him a weak smile, before heading out the door.

"She's not alright." Laura murmured.

"I know." Clint said in agreement. "But she needs to clear her head." 

No sooner she stepped outside onto the porch, she saw Steve glance up from his position, where he was chopping firewood with Tony. Immediately, Steve dropped his axe and walked over to her.

"Ser?" He asked with hesitation. "Are you alright."

"Yeah." She said with a nod. "I'm a...I'm going to go for a run...to clear my head."

Steve looked at her facial expression in deep thought, trying to read what she was feeling. But based upon the emotionless expression she had, he couldn't. That's the one thing he had trouble with, when it came to her.

Reading her emotions, especially when she shut down like this.

Serena quickly glanced at Tony, who had a look of suspicion on his face. Before Steve could respond to her comment about clearing her head, she walked away from the man, and broke out into a run.

She needed to clear her head.

Far away from the rest of the team.

Steve watch her run for a couple minutes, before letting out a sigh, as he walked back to the firewood pile, picking up his axe once more.

"Thor didn't say where he was going for answers?" Tony asked, completely ignoring the small conversation Steve had with Serena.

"Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things." Steve explained as he chopped another piece of wood in half. "I was kind of hoping Thor would be the exception."

Tony nodded in agreement. "Yeah, give him time. We don't know what the Maximoff kid showed him." 

Steve let out a sigh. ""Earth's Mightiest Heroes." Pulled us apart like cotton candy."

Tony let out a huff. "Seems like you walked away all right."

"Is that a problem?" Steve asked, stopping in his tracks at the comment.

"I don't trust a guy without a dark side." Tony explained with some snark. "Call me old fashioned."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Well let's just say you haven't seen it yet."

"You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?"

"Well I guess you'd know." Steve countered with slight annoyance. "Whether you tell us is a bit of a question."

Tony scoffed in annoyance, switching the subject, to avoid trying to take the blame. "Are we just going to ignore the fact that Princess Shadow Operative is muttering in French like she's auditioning for a noir film?"

Steve's gaze angered, and narrowed even more. "She's been doing that since her CIA days. Hill told me. She does it when something truly bothers her."

Tony raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Well, forgive me for not being fluent in PTSD. Maybe someone could clue me in on what's actually going on in her head."

"You don't have to understand her to show a little respect."

"Respect?" Tony scoffed, crossing his arms. "Look, I'm just saying what we're all thinking. She's a liability right now. We can't afford liabilities."

"Neither can you," Steve shot back. "Or did you forget who created Ultron?"

"Banner and I were doing research."

"That would affect the team."

"That would end the team." Tony responded with anger. "Isn't that the mission? Isn't that the "why" we fight, so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?"

Steve, now fully annoyed, grabbed a log of wood, and ripped it apart with his two hands. 

"Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time." Steve explained, fully angered by Tony's actions.

Before Tony could respond however, Laura came outside and asked Tony if he could fix the tractor in the barn, leaving Steve to ponder his own thoughts. It was a couple hours later when Serena returned from her run, seemingly unharmed. The run had helped her process the vision slightly, but not entirely, as the cool breeze swept through the surrounding fields, carrying with it the calming hum of crickets. As she approached the house, she noticed a figure sitting on the front porch.

Steve.

He was waiting for her.

"Hey." He greeted with a warm smile. "How was your run?"

She shrugged, as she walked up the steps.

As Serena stepped up onto the porch, Steve moved to stand, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of how she was truly feeling. She gave a small, half-hearted shrug, her gaze shifting to the horizon. The muted orange and pink hues of the setting sun cast a gentle light over the farm, but Serena’s eyes seemed far away.

"It helped," she murmured, her voice soft and distant. "A little."

Steve nodded, stepping closer. He hesitated, his hands twitching as though he wanted to reach for her but wasn’t sure if she was ready. "I’m glad you went, but... you’re still carrying it, aren’t you?"

Serena gave him a faint, tired smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "It’s not something you can just leave behind on a dirt road, Steve."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Ser. But you don’t have to carry it alone."

Her lips pressed together, the weight of his words settling over her. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped when she noticed something in his expression. There was a flicker of nervousness there, an emotion she didn’t often see in him.

Steve glanced toward the barn, then back at her. His hand brushed hers lightly, and she felt the warmth of his touch linger. "Come with me," he said softly.

Curiosity flickered in her tired gaze, but she nodded, following him down the porch steps and toward the field. They walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the rustle of the grass and the distant calls of birds. Steve finally stopped beneath a large oak tree, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the earth.

"Steve," she began, tilting her head slightly, "what’s this about?"

He turned to her, his blue eyes earnest and steady. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, black velvet box. Serena’s breath caught as he opened it, revealing a stunning 5 caret emerald, surrounded by diamonds, set in a delicate gold band. The sunlight glinted off the stone, casting soft green reflections on his hand.

"I’ve been carrying this with me for a while," Steve admitted, his voice low and steady. "Waiting for the right moment. And I know things aren’t perfect right now—hell, they’re far from it. But life is messy, Ser. It always will be. What matters is that we face it together."

Her hand instinctively went to her mouth, her heart pounding, and mind racing with emotions. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't speak. She didn't know what to say...she couldn't form words.

Steve knelt down on one knee, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know this is sudden, and I know we've been through a lot. But I love you, more than anything. And I want to spend whatever time we have—however long or short—building something with you. So, Serena Alexandra de Fontaine Pierce, will you marry me?"

Her breath hitched, tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at him, her mind spinning. She wanted to say yes, but the weight of everything—the mission, the vision Wanda had shown her, the scars she still carried—made her hesitate.

Steve saw her conflict and smiled gently, his voice softening even more. "You don't have to answer me now," he said, rising to his feet and taking her hands in his. "I just wanted you to know how I feel. This isn't about what's happening around us—it's about us. Take all the time you need."

Serena let out a shaky laugh, her heart aching at his patience and understanding. "Steve... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Just know that no matter what, I'm here. For you. Always."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay."

Steve closed the box carefully, slipping it back into his pocket. He stepped closer, pulling her into a warm embrace. His arms wrapped around her protectively, his hand smoothing over her hair as she rested her head against his chest.

"You’re not alone, Ser," he murmured into her hair. "Not now. Not ever."

For the first time in days, Serena let herself relax, leaning into his strength. The weight on her chest felt a little lighter, her steps toward healing just a little closer.

The walk back to the farmhouse was quiet, the weight of the moment hanging in the air like a fragile thread. Steve’s hand rested lightly against Serena’s lower back, guiding her gently but not intrusively. She didn’t say much, her thoughts swirling like a storm—about the proposal, the vision Wanda had forced upon her, and the weight of everything they’d been through in such a short amount of time.

When they reached the porch, the warm glow of the farmhouse lights spilled into the night, accompanied by faint laughter from inside. Clint and Laura’s voices carried through the screen door, mingled with the sound of the children’s giggles. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil Serena felt within, but somehow, it grounded her.

"You want to go inside?" Steve asked softly, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

She hesitated, glancing through the window where the team was gathered around the kitchen table, Laura setting down plates while Clint gestured animatedly during a story. Natasha sat in the corner, a faint smirk on her face as she sipped her drink, ever watchful. Even Bruce looked slightly at ease, a rare occurrence after the events in Africa.

Tony was nowhere to be found.

Serena shook her head. "Not yet. I think I just need a moment."

Steve nodded, stepping back onto the porch with her. He settled onto the bench swing, patting the spot next to him. She gave a faint smile and sat down, letting the gentle sway of the swing lull her into a semblance of calm.

"You know," Steve began, his tone light, "Clint’s kids seem to like you."

Serena let out a soft chuckle. "They’re sweet. Reminds me of when my brother and I were younger. Before... well, everything."

Steve tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "You don’t talk about Nick much."

Her smile faltered, and she stared at her hands. "It’s complicated. We’re close in our way, but there’s always been this... distance. Not physical, but emotional. I use to think it was our age difference that caused it, considering theres ten years between the two of us. But as I got older, I realized that we’re both too guarded to fully let the other in."

Steve didn’t push further, simply nodding and letting her set the pace. She appreciated that about him—how he gave her space without making her feel isolated.

"I think that’s why the vision hit so hard," she admitted after a long silence. "Wanda... she made me relive things I’ve buried for years. Training, my father, the choices I’ve made to survive. It’s like she reached into the worst parts of me and held them up for me to see."

Steve’s hand found hers, his touch warm and grounding. "That’s what she does. She preys on fears, doubts, and guilt. But that’s not who you are. It’s not all of you."

Her eyes glistened as she looked at him. "It feels like it is. Like everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been... it’s all tainted."

He shook his head, his voice steady. "That’s not true. You’re more than that. I see it every time you put yourself on the line for us, for people who can’t fight for themselves. I see it in how you care for others, even when you don’t think you deserve it."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. "You have too much faith in me."

"Maybe," he said with a small smile, "but I don’t think so."

They sat there for a while longer, the quiet of the night wrapping around them like a blanket. The sounds of the team inside grew softer, signaling the end of dinner and the start of winding down for the night.

Finally, Serena let out a shaky breath. "We should go in. They’ll think we’ve disappeared."

Steve chuckled. "Stark will have some conspiracy theory about it for sure."

She smiled, faint but genuine, and let him help her to her feet. As they stepped into the warmth of the farmhouse, Laura greeted them with a knowing look and a plate of food wrapped in foil.

"Figured you might want this later," she said, her tone gentle.

"Thanks," Serena murmured, grateful for the gesture.

The team barely looked up as they entered, everyone too lost in their own thoughts or conversations. Steve gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go, allowing her to retreat to the quiet corner of the living room where she could watch without feeling overwhelmed.

"Where's Stark?" Steve asked in curiosity,  noticing that Tony wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Fixing the tractor." Clint said with a sigh.

Almost as if on cue, that back door swung open, revealing Tony, with an extremely smug look on his face. "“Alright, tractor’s fixed. I’m officially a farmer now. Someone get me a hat.”

Just as Clint was about to reply, he froze in his spot, with the person who entered behind him.

Everyone froze in their spots.

Fury.

Serena felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched Fury enter the room. Everyone was frozen in their spots. If Fury was here...shit was about to go down.

They all knew that.

"Looks like I showed up just in time.” Fury said with his usual snark and sarcasm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Clint asked, breaking the silence, his voice tinged with both disbelief and amusement. “I thought you were retired—or dead.”

Fury gave him a small smirk. “I’ve got a habit of showing up when things are falling apart. And from what I’ve heard, this team’s about one step away from imploding.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the invitation. I'm sure you can thank Pierce for it.”

"I didn't call him." Serena explained with a shake of her head.

Tony rolled his eyes again. "Don't lie. And even if it wasn't you, we all know the other half of The Twisted Sisters called."

“Hill didn't call me, and neither did Pierce. You didn’t invite me,” Fury shot back, folding his arms, already annoyed at the comments Tony was making to Serena. “You just happened to be in the way when I showed up.”

"Do you have something for us?" Natasha asked from her spot at the kitchen table.

While Laura moved the kids to the living room, or to bed for that matter, Fury got into the details of what he had found out.

"Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time." Fury began from his spot at the kitchen counter. "My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing."

"What about Ultron himself?" Steve asked with a frown, as he leaned against the doorway.

"Ah. He's easy to track, he's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit." He quipped. "Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though."

A frown came on Tony's face as he through a dart at the dartboard. "He still going after launch codes?"

Fury nodded. "Yes, he is, but he's not making any headway."

Tony scoffed. "I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."

"Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that." Fury explained with a sigh.

Steve frowned. "NEXUS?"

"It's the world internet hub in Oslo." Serena explained. 

Bruce nodded. "Every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on earth."

"So what'd they say?" Clint asked, expectantly, as he continued to do the dishes from dinner.

"He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed." Fury sighed, swirling his glass of bourbon. 

Tony frowned. "By whom?"

Tony then became startled, as Clint through a dart from the other side of the kitchen, allowing it to land right in the bullseye position. Clint just shrugged, at Tony's response.

"Parties unknown." Fury concluded.

"Do we have an ally?" Natasha asked, some hope coming onto her face.

"Ultron's got an enemy, that's not the same thing." Serena concluded. "Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is...maybe with some persuasion, we can get them on our side."

"I might need to visit Oslo, find our "unknown."" Tony concluded as he walked up to the dart board. 

Natasha sighed. "Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that."

"I do, I have you." Fury explained, gesturing to the entire room of people. "Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. You kids had all the tech you could dream of. Here we all are, back on earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard."

A small smirk came on Natasha's face. "Steve doesn't like that kind of talk."

Steve shook his head, as he placed an arm around Serena's waist. "You know what, Romanoff?"

"So what does he want?" Fury asked, hoping someone in the room had an answer.

"To become better." Steve concluded. "Better than us. He keeps building bodies."

"Person bodies." Tony nodded in agreement. "The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it."

"When you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed." Natasha quipped, obviously saying what everyone was thinking.

"They don't need to be protected, they need to evolve." Bruce concluded, glancing at the butterfly finger painting that Lila had made for Natasha. "Ultron's going to evolve."

"How?" Fury asked with a frown.

Bruce looked up. "Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?"

Serena's eyes widened. "The regeneration cradle...he's going to build a body...that's what he needs the vibranium for. If she can combine artificial organic tissue and vibranium...theres your body...there's ultron's evolution."

Everyone froze, all eyes landing on the woman who had been so quiet and distant a couple hours prior.

Tony frowned in confusion, completely blindsided at how she put two-and-two together. "When'd you learn so much about medicine and the regeneration cradle?"

She shrugged. "I got into a conversation about it with Dr. Cho...she invited me to her lab in Seoul to see the regeneration cradle. She was telling me about how she is able to supply enough artificial organic tissue to heal an injury, but in order to fix a functional organ or limb, she'd need another source as well...a donor of some kind."

Everyone froze at how much she knew about it. Helen hadn't told them anything.

But she told Serena. 

A smirk came onto Fury's face as he looked to Tony, but pointed to Serena.

"And that Stark, is why she and Hill were my left and right hands." Fury concluded with a proud smirk. 

Within the next hour, the team started to gather their gear, knowing they were heading out, each going their separate ways, to try and stop Ultron. One team was heading to Seoul to get the cradle, Stark was heading to the NEXUS, and Banner was heading back to the tower, to see if he could catch Ultron's movements. 

"I'll take Natasha and Clint." Steve said with a nod, as he placed his shield on his back.

Tony nodded. "Alright, strictly recon. I'll hit the NEXUS, I'll join you as soon as I can."

"If Ultron is really building a body..." Steve began, as he trailed off.

"He'll be more powerful than any of us. Maybe all of us." Tony murmured. "An android designed by a robot."

"You know I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me." Steve said with annoyance and sarcasm.

"I'll drop Banner off at the tower." Fury explained as he put on his coat. "Do you mind if I borrow Ms. Hill and Ms. Pierce?"

Tony shrugged. "They're all yours, apparently."

Steve frowned in confusion. "What are you gonna do?"

Fury smirked. "I don't know. Something dramatic, I hope."

Fury then walked to the foot of the staircase, and looked up.

"Come on, Pierce!" He called. "We've got places to be, and people to see!"

No sooner he uttered these words, Serena practically ran down the stairs, with a duffle-bag slung over her shoulder, that contained all of her Viper gear, that hadn't been touched since her shower earlier in the day.

"Do you have everything?" Fury asked as she reached the foot of the stairs.

She nodded. "Everything, Sir."

Fury gave her a curt nod. "Good, I'll meet you on the Quinjet."

She nodded as she turned to Steve, who was looking at her with sincerity and concern.

"You have everything?" He asked, quickly glancing at her duffle.

She nodded. "Yeah, do you?"

"Yeah." He explained, placing his hands on her waist, as she dropped the duffle to the floor. "You going to be ok?"

She hesitated for a moment, and searched his face for answers, almost like he would be able to tell her if she was ok or not. 

She let out a sigh. "I'll be ok, I promise."

He nodded, before pulling her in for a kiss. It wasn't heated, or passionate like their usual kisses were, since there were so many people around, but both of them knew that they loved each other more than anything. Once they pulled away, they placed their foreheads together.

"Promise me you'll be careful?" He practically whispered.

"The same goes for you." She countered, her dry humor coming through.

He let out a huff of amusement, before he pulled her into a hug, both of them holding onto each other, not wanting the other to let go. They loved each other too much to do that.

"Pierce!" Fury barked, from his position on the porch.

"I love you." He murmured as they pulled away, knowing if they delayed Fury anymore, they'd never hear the end of it.

"I love you too." She murmured back, before she picked up her duffle, and walked out the door of the house.

Serena stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of her duffle bag contrasting with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The Quinjet loomed ahead, its engines humming softly, a beacon of the battles to come. She paused at the bottom of the porch steps, glancing back at the farmhouse. Through the window, she could see Steve still standing near the door, his expression a mixture of pride and worry as their eyes locked one last time.

“Don’t look back,” Fury called from the Quinjet ramp, his voice gruff but steady. “We’ve got work to do.”

Serena nodded, tearing her gaze away from Steve. Her footsteps were deliberate as she strode toward the aircraft, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts but focused on one: she couldn’t afford to falter. Not now.

As she stepped into the Quinjet, Fury gave her a long, assessing look. “You ready for this, Pierce?”

Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag, her jaw setting in quiet determination. “I was trained for this.”

Fury smirked, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Good. Because if we screw this up, there’s no coming back.”

The ramp began to rise behind them, sealing them inside the jet as it prepared for takeoff. Serena took a seat, her mind already calculating the challenges ahead, her heart lingering just briefly on the farmhouse and the man she’d left behind.

As the Quinjet lifted into the sky, the farmhouse grew smaller in the distance, swallowed by the darkness of the night. For a brief moment, Serena closed her eyes, grounding herself in the steady hum of the engines.

Whatever lay ahead—Ultron, the uncertainty of Steve’s proposal—she would face it head-on. Because that’s who she was. A fighter. A survivor.

And this time, she wasn’t alone.

 

 

Notes:

Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Notes:

As always, please fill free to comment. And let me know if you have any questions or concerns.

After dropping Banner off at the tower, and picking up Hill, Fury waisted no time, getting back into the air. The Quinjet soared over the Atlantic, its engines humming steadily. Serena sat in the co-pilot seat, her hands resting on her lap, eyes focused on the horizon. Fury was silent beside her, checking his tablet for updates. Maria sat in the rear, sorting through files Fury had handed her.

It was the calm before the storm, but Serena could feel the weight of it pressing down on her chest.

"You ready for this?" Fury's gruff voice broke the silence.

Serena blinked, glancing at him. "I was trained for this. You know that."

Fury's one good eye narrowed as he studied her. "Training only gets you so far, Pierce. This isn’t just another mission. Ultron’s got the upper hand, and we’re running on fumes. You’ve got to keep your head on straight."

Maria looked up from her files, her eyes softening as they landed on Serena. "We’re all stretched thin, Nick. Let her breathe."

Serena gave Maria a grateful nod, but her mind was already spinning with what lay ahead. Fury hadn’t given them many details about their destination, only that they were meeting a "reliable contact." Serena didn’t have the energy to ask for more. She trusted Fury, but she was also wary of the secrets he kept.

As they approached the rendezvous point—a remote airstrip tucked away in the Romanian countryside—the weight in Serena’s chest only grew heavier.

The Quinjet hummed softly as it touched down on the secluded airstrip Fury had commandeered. Serena and Maria followed him down the ramp, their boots crunching on the gravel as they approached a hangar nestled discreetly among the surrounding hills. The sky was overcast, a fitting backdrop for the covert operation they were about to undertake.

"How long has this been here?" Serena asked, glancing at the massive structure as its reinforced doors slid open with a mechanical groan.

Fury smirked, his one good eye gleaming with amusement. "A good while. Welcome to one of my little insurance policies."

Inside the hangar, the dim lighting flickered on, revealing the towering silhouette of the Helicarrier, its frame battered but still formidable. Serena stopped in her tracks, her green eyes widening slightly as she took in the sight. Maria, however, kept her expression unreadable, though the faintest flicker of relief crossed her face.

"You kept this off the books," Maria stated more than asked, her tone even.

Fury shot her a sideways glance. "Of course I did. SHIELD may have fallen, but that doesn’t mean I left us with nothing. You can thank Coulson, it was his idea, and I have to say, it's one of his better ones."

Serena stepped closer to the Helicarrier, running a hand along its hull. "Can it still fly?"

Fury’s grin widened. "It’ll fly. Once we finish patching her up."

The three of them moved further into the hangar, where a small team of former SHIELD agents worked tirelessly on the Helicarrier. Tools clanked and sparks flew as mechanics worked to repair the engines and reinforce the structure. The faint hum of generators filled the air, accompanied by the occasional barked order from a foreman overseeing the repairs.

Maria scanned the work with a critical eye. "How much longer until it’s operational?"

"Couple of days, tops," Fury replied, leading them to a makeshift command center set up near the far wall. Screens displayed schematics of the Helicarrier, alongside feeds of Hydra movements and Ultron’s drones.

Serena’s gaze lingered on the screens, her mind already piecing together what Fury was planning. "You’re going to use this as a failsafe."

Fury nodded. "When Ultron makes his next move—and he will—we need a way to get civilians out of harm’s way. The Helicarrier can handle that, and then some."

Maria crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "And what about the Avengers? They’re not going to like being kept in the dark."

Fury shrugged. "They don’t need to know. Not yet. Right now, they’re doing what they do best—smashing things. We’ll handle the backup plan."

Serena frowned, her arms resting on the table as she studied the schematics. "If this thing isn’t ready in time, we’re screwed. What’s Plan C?"

Fury shot her a pointed look. "There is no Plan C. That’s why we make damn sure this works."

As the hours dragged on, Serena found herself in the engine room, assisting one of the engineers with a critical repair. The man, a grizzled SHIELD veteran named Callahan, handed her a wrench without looking up.

"Hold that steady," he muttered, gesturing to a panel that had seen better days.

Serena crouched, bracing the panel as Callahan secured it with a series of bolts. "You ever think we’d be doing this again?" she asked, her tone conversational.

Callahan let out a dry chuckle. "Never thought SHIELD would fall, let alone that Fury’d pull this thing out of mothballs. But here we are."

Serena nodded absently, her thoughts drifting. The Avengers had no idea what they were doing—no idea that this Helicarrier could be the key to saving countless lives. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but she understood Fury’s reasoning. Sometimes, the less people knew, the better.

"Done," Callahan announced, wiping his hands on a rag. "That should hold."

"Let’s hope so," Serena replied, standing and stretching her back. "We can’t afford for anything to go wrong."

Meanwhile, Maria stood with Fury in the command center, reviewing the progress. She tapped a finger on the edge of the table, her usual calm demeanor giving way to a hint of worry.

"This has to work," she said quietly. "We’re playing a dangerous game, Nick. If the Avengers find out—"

"They won’t," Fury interrupted, his tone firm. "Not until it’s time."

Maria sighed, running a hand through her hair. "They’re not going to be happy when they do. Especially Steve. You know how he feels about secrets."

Fury gave her a knowing look. "I’m not here to win a popularity contest. I’m here to make sure we win this fight. They’ll understand when the time comes."

Maria didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her attention back to the screens, her sharp mind already calculating contingencies.

Meanwhile, Maria stood with Fury in the command center, reviewing the progress. She tapped a finger on the edge of the table, her usual calm demeanor giving way to a hint of worry.

"This has to work," she said quietly. "We’re playing a dangerous game, Nick. If the Avengers find out—"

"They won’t," Fury interrupted, his tone firm. "Not until it’s time."

Maria sighed, running a hand through her hair. "They’re not going to be happy when they do. Especially Steve. You know how he feels about secrets."

Fury gave her a knowing look. "I’m not here to win a popularity contest. I’m here to make sure we win this fight. They’ll understand when the time comes."

Maria didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her attention back to the screens, her sharp mind already calculating contingencies.

Later that night, Serena sat outside the hangar, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She leaned back against a stack of crates, her thoughts drifting to Steve. She hadn’t told him where she was or what she was doing. She hated keeping secrets from him, but this was different. This wasn’t just about them—it was about saving lives.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Maria approaching with two cups of coffee.

Maria handed her one, sitting down beside her. "You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Serena let out a humorless laugh. "That’s because I do."

"How?" She frowned. "Cause I've known you long enough to know that it's not just Maximoff and Ultron plaguing your mind. What's going on?"

Serena hesitated before letting out a breath. "Steve proposed."

Maria's eyes widened in shock. "You're kidding?"

"I wish I was." Serena explained, taking a sip of her coffee. "Hell of a time to propose."

"What did you say?" She asked with a frown.

Serena shook her head. "I didn't give him an answer yet."

"You left him hanging?" She asked in disbelief. "Are you kidding me, Ser?"

Serena let out a sigh. "After everything I went through...I-I don't see how he could want to marry someone like me...I'll give him my answer after all of this is over.

Silence fell over the two of them, at the statement Serena had made. Between the two of them, both Serena and Maria had enough baggage that could probably fill the Helicarrier. Between the amount of people they killed, and their inner trauma...it was a lot.

Maria sipped her coffee, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "You’re not alone in this, Ser. We’ve all got our burdens. But we’ll carry them together."

Serena glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks, Maria."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. But in that quiet moment, Serena felt a flicker of hope. They were doing everything they could to prepare. And when the time came, they’d be ready.

Eventually, the two of them found their way back to the bridge, to continue to oversee operations on the command center along with the rest of the Helicarrier. Serena leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on the console as she stared at the black screen where Steve's face had just been. The brief moment of vulnerability he'd shown lingered in her mind.

"I've got an update on Rogers." Maria explained, making Serena pick her head up to look her friend in the eyes.

"And?" Serena asked expectantly.

"Barton has the cradle inbound to the tower, Banner is ready to run diagnostics on it. Stark is still at the NEXUS, but according to Rogers, he said that he will also be inbound to the tower as well to help Banner with the cradle. As for the Maximoffs, they evidently are on our side."

Serena frowned. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Rogers didn't specify. Thor is still MIA, and as for Romanoff...Ultron has her."

Serena sat up. "Ultron took Natasha?"

Maria nodded. "He explained that once they reach the tower, Barton is going to search the networks to see if she's making any contact."

Serena let out a frustrated sigh, as she leaned back in her seat. Everything was going to shit. As of right now, she didn't know if they'd ever recover with what was going on currently. Everything felt like it was falling apart at the seams. 

It truly seemed like the odds were not in their favor.

"That man loves you, you know," Maria said, breaking the silence. She had shifted to sit across from Serena, arms crossed and her tone softer than usual.

Serena smirked faintly, though her cheeks colored slightly. "Yeah, I know."

Maria leaned forward, her eyebrow quirking mischievously. "So... you really gonna leave the poor guy hanging about the ring?"

Serena groaned, rubbing her temples. "Not you too. I already said I’d decide when this mission is over."

Maria shrugged, clearly enjoying herself. "I’m just saying, when he sent me the updates, he asked how you were holding up. That's practically a public declaration of love in Captain America terms."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Focus, Hill. We’ve got a Helicarrier to run."

Before Maria could respond, Fury strode into the room, his boots echoing sharply against the metallic floor. His commanding presence was enough to break their banter.

"Updates?" he asked, his tone brisk.

Serena straightened immediately. "Cradle is en route to the tower. Rogers confirmed Barton’s got it. Stark’s working at the NEXUS, and Banner’s monitoring Ultron’s movements. As for the Maximoffs, they’re on our side now. Romanoff and Thor are MIA."

Fury nodded, absorbing the information. "And the Helicarrier?"

"We’re operational," Maria replied confidently. "Just needs a few tweaks, and it’ll be ready for action."

"Good," Fury said, his gaze flicking between the two women. "Ultron doesn’t know this is coming. That gives us an edge. Make sure we keep it."

Serena nodded, but her mind wandered back to Steve’s earlier words. Her heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore—it was about what came after, if there even was an after.

Eventually, she stood up to head to one of the consoles off to the side of the center command deck. Her focus waved on various portions of the events that had occurred within the last day. Her patience, and confidence were waving, and everything was starting to close on her.

 Fury stood in the center of the command deck, arms crossed as he observed Serena’s distracted state. The soft hum of the Helicarrier’s systems filled the air, but it was clear Serena wasn’t fully present. Fury’s one good eye narrowed slightly as he walked toward her.

"Pierce," he called, his tone sharp enough to snap her back to reality.

"Sir?" Serena straightened, trying to mask her fatigue.

"You’ve been doing a fine job here, but I need you to make a call," Fury said, nodding toward the console. "Your mother."

Serena blinked, caught off guard. "Why? What does she have to do with this?"

Fury arched a brow. "You think Felicita doesn’t have intel that could help us? Call her. Now."

Maria, who was standing nearby, smirked at the mention of Felicita. "Oh, this should be good."

Serena shot both of them a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, she punched in the encrypted codes to establish a secure line. A few seconds later, the screen flickered, and the formidable image of Felicita Pierce filled the display. Behind her, her sister and Serena's aunt, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine could be seen rifling through a meticulously organized alcohol cabinet, rearranging bottles as if it were a military operation.

"Serena," Felicita greeted coolly, her sharp eyes immediately taking in her daughter’s disheveled appearance. "You look... tired."

"Nice to see you too, Mom," Serena replied, her tone deadpan. "Fury insisted I call you. Apparently, you’re holding out on some intel."

Before Felicita could respond, Val poked her head into the frame, holding up a bottle of scotch. "Fel, do you even drink this? It’s practically gathering dust back here."

"Leave it," Felicita snapped, not even glancing at her sister. "I’m on a call."

Val rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. Don’t get your panties in a twist."

Serena smirked faintly, crossing her arms. "Is this a bad time? You seem busy rearranging your liquor supply."

Felicita ignored the jab, focusing entirely on her daughter. "What do you need?"

"Ultron intel," Serena said, keeping her voice steady. "We’re tracking his movements, but we need more precise data. Anything you’ve got would help."

Felicita’s gaze didn’t waver, but her lips curved into a faint smile. "I might have something. But first..." She tilted her head slightly, her voice taking on a pointed edge. "Did Steven ask you to marry him yet?"

Maria, who had been leaning casually against the console, straightened instantly, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Oh, he did. Ser just hasn’t made up her mind yet."

"Maria," Serena hissed, turning to glare at her.

"What?" Maria replied innocently, though her grin betrayed her. "Your mom was going to find out anyway."

Felicita raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze softening just slightly. "Interesting. Nicholas didn’t mention she was hesitating when Steven asked for our blessing."

Serena froze, her jaw tightening. "He—wait, he already asked you and Nick?"

"Of course he did," Felicita said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Steven may be a soldier, but he’s also a gentleman. He even showed me the ring."

At this, Val piped up from the background, holding up another bottle. "Wait, what ring? Why wasn’t I told about this?"

"Because it’s none of your business," Felicita snapped, waving her sister off. "Go rearrange someone else’s liquor cabinet."

Maria was clearly enjoying the exchange, her grin growing wider. "What’s the ring look like?"

Serena groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Maria, don’t—"

"Come on, Ser," Maria teased. "I just want to know if it’s as fancy as the guy who bought it."

Serena turned slowly, her green eyes narrowing. "Do you really want me to answer that, or should I bring up Monaco?"

Maria’s smirk faltered slightly. "Okay, low blow."

"Monaco?" Val repeated with interest, leaning into the frame. "What happened in Monaco?"

"Nothing!" Maria said quickly, shooting Serena a warning look.

"She slept with Sam Wilson," Serena said with a sweet, saccharine smile.

Val’s eyebrows shot up, and Felicita actually paused for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Maria," Felicita said dryly, "I thought you had better taste."

Maria groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This is why I didn’t want you to tell her."

Val, on the other hand, burst out laughing. "I’m going to need more details on that later."

Felicita ignored the exchange, turning her attention back to Serena. "So? Have you made up your mind yet?"

"Mom" Serena began, her voice strained.

"You’re stalling," Felicita said matter-of-factly. "Steven is a good man. You’d be a fool to let him slip away."

"She’ll figure it out," Fury cut in, clearly growing impatient. "Now, about that intel?"

Felicita’s gaze lingered on Serena for a moment longer before she straightened, her demeanor shifting back to business. "Ultron is targeting advanced biotechnological hubs globally, focusing on facilities with resources to create organic tissue. My analysts believe he’s consolidating materials for a final project. There’s a strong possibility his next move will be in Sokovia."

"Sokovia," Maria murmured, glancing at Serena. "That lines up with what we’ve been tracking."

"Anything else?" Fury asked.

"Ultron’s enemy is still unknown," Felicita said. "But whoever they are, they’re slowing him down. If you can find them, you might have a chance to stop this before it escalates further."

"Noted," Fury said with a nod.

As the call wound down, Felicita gave Serena a pointed look. "Stay safe. And for heaven’s sake, answer Steven. He deserves better than your hesitation."

Serena sighed heavily. "Goodbye, Mom."

As the screen went dark, Maria let out a low whistle. "You know, for someone so cold, she really ships you and Rogers."

Serena groaned, rubbing her temples. "I can’t believe I let you grow up around me."

Maria smirked, her tone teasing. "Oh, come on. You love me."

Fury clapped his hands, drawing their attention back. "Alright, enough of the soap opera. We’ve got work to do. Pierce, get that intel to Rogers. Hill, start cross-referencing Sokovia data. Let’s move."

Serena nodded, turning back to the console, but Maria’s laughter echoed behind her. Despite herself, Serena couldn’t help but feel a small, reluctant smile tug at her lips. Leave it to Maria and her mother to turn even the apocalypse into a family drama.

Serena sat back at her workstation aboard the Helicarrier, the soft glow of the monitors illuminating her face as she dialed into the encrypted line. The connection stabilized, and a video feed of Steve Rogers appeared on the screen. He was back at the Avengers Tower, the Quinjet visible in the background as he adjusted the camera angle.

"Ser," Steve greeted warmly, his tired blue eyes lighting up when he saw her. "Hey, honey."

Maria, sitting nearby at her own station, smirked and leaned in just enough to be visible in Serena's peripheral vision. "Oh, we're using 'honey' now?"

Serena rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend, though her lips quirked up at Steve’s affectionate tone. "Steve," she began, brushing her hair back from her face, "please tell me you have good news."

Steve exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Sort of. We recovered the cradle. Clint brought it here, and... well, things got a little complicated."

Serena frowned, her brow furrowing. "Complicated how?"

Before Steve could answer, the feed shifted slightly, and Serena caught a glimpse of someone—or something—in the background. A tall, red figure with a gold cape and a Mind Stone embedded in its forehead moved into view, its expression calm and unreadable.

Serena blinked, leaning closer to the screen. "What... what is that?"

The figure turned its head slightly, as if aware it was being discussed, before stepping out of frame. Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That’s Vision. We—well, Tony and Banner—uploaded JARVIS into the cradle to finish the body Ultron was building."

"What?" Serena exclaimed, her voice sharp. "You created another... whatever Ultron is? Are you kidding me?"

"Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice," Steve said quickly, holding up a hand. "But Thor showed up and... let’s just say, he gave the process a boost."

Maria, watching the conversation unfold, muttered under her breath, "Of course he did."

Serena’s glare didn’t waver. "And now you’re telling me this Vision thing is on our side?"

Steve nodded. "He says he’s on the side of life. He helped us realize what Ultron’s endgame is—he wants to wipe out humanity. All of it."

Serena’s expression softened slightly, though her skepticism remained. "And you trust him?"

Steve hesitated, glancing offscreen. "I... think we have to. He lifted Thor’s hammer."

Maria, who had been sipping her coffee, choked slightly. "He did what?"

"He lifted Mjölnir," Steve repeated, as if saying it a second time would make it more believable. "If that doesn’t mean he’s worthy, I don’t know what does."

Serena sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. So what’s the plan now?"

"Natasha’s in Sokovia," Steve explained, his tone darkening. "Ultron’s holding her in the fortress where Strucker was. He’s finalizing whatever weapon he’s building. We’re heading there next."

Serena’s jaw tightened. She knew Natasha could handle herself, but the thought of her friend in Ultron’s hands sent a chill down her spine. "You’re all going?"

"Yes," Steve confirmed. "We’re regrouping now. Vision’s coming with us. We’ll need every advantage we can get."

Serena leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. She glanced at Maria, who was watching her with a knowing look.

Steve’s voice softened. "Ser... have you thought any more about... you know, what we talked about?"

Maria smirked, nudging Serena’s chair with her foot. "Oh, he’s asking about the ring again."

Serena shot her a glare. "Maria, not the time."

Steve smiled faintly, his expression both amused and hopeful. "No rush. Just... wanted to know if you’ve made up your mind yet."

In the background, Wanda Maximoff, who had been quietly observing, furrowed her brow in confusion. "What ring?" she whispered to her brother Pietro, who shrugged, equally clueless.

Even Tony, who had been tinkering with something just out of frame, glanced over with a raised eyebrow. "Wait a minute," he called out. "Did Cap propose to Princess Pierce and not tell anyone?"

"Tony," Steve said sharply, his face flushing slightly.

"What?" Tony continued, leaning closer to the camera with a smirk. "I feel like that’s need-to-know information. Also, congratulations, Pierce, on bagging America’s most eligible bachelor."

Serena groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Can we not?"

"Too late," Maria quipped. "The cat’s out of the bag now."

Steve chuckled softly, his eyes warm as he looked back at Serena. "I love you, Ser."

The words hung in the air for a moment, the sincerity in his voice silencing even Tony. Serena’s heart swelled, a small, genuine smile breaking through her frustration. "I love you too, honey. Now go save the world."

Steve nodded, his expression turning serious. "Stay safe. I’ll call you when we’ve got Natasha back."

The call ended, leaving Serena staring at the blank screen. Maria crossed her arms, a teasing grin plastered on her face. "So, when are you going to tell him yes?"

Serena sighed, leaning back in her chair. "When I figure out how to keep him from getting himself killed."

Maria’s grin softened into something more genuine. "He’s not going anywhere, Ser. You two are going to be fine."

Serena glanced back at the screen, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Let’s hope you’re right."

Serena leaned back in her chair, staring at the blank monitor after the call with Steve ended. Her mind churned with everything he’d just said: Natasha in Sokovia, the creation of Vision, and Ultron’s horrifying plan to wipe out humanity. The weight of it all pressed heavily on her chest.

Maria, seated nearby, broke the silence. "You know, he’s not going to let this go. You’re going to have to give him an answer about that ring sooner or later."

Serena groaned, rubbing her temples. "Maria, not now."

"Oh, I think now’s the perfect time," Maria replied, smirking. "You’ve got a literal robot apocalypse brewing, and Captain America’s out there declaring his love for you like it’s the last day on Earth."

Serena shot her a look. "Do you ever stop?"

"Nope," Maria said cheerfully, then leaned forward, her expression turning more serious. "But honestly, Ser... you should say yes. He’s good for you. You’re good for each other."

Before Serena could reply, Fury’s voice cut through the quiet. "Pierce, Hill, enough chitchat. We’ve got a Helicarrier to get operational, and not a lot of time to do it."

Serena straightened in her seat, nodding. "Yes, sir."

Maria gave her a quick wink before returning to her own station. Serena turned her attention to the control panel in front of her, running diagnostics on the systems they’d managed to bring back online. The Helicarrier was an impressive piece of machinery, but it had been mothballed for a reason. Restoring it to full functionality was no small task.

"How’s it looking?" Fury asked, walking over to Serena’s station.

She frowned at the screen. "We’ve got most of the primary systems online, but the weapons array is still offline, and the navigation system’s running on outdated software."

"Can you fix it?" Fury pressed.

"Working on it," Serena replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "But it’s going to take time."

"We don’t have time," Fury muttered, his eye narrowing as he surveyed the screens. "Hill, what’s the status on the auxiliary engines?"

Maria glanced up from her station. "They’ll hold for now, but we’re running on borrowed time. If we push them too hard, they’ll burn out."

Fury let out a low growl of frustration. "Then don’t push them too hard. We need this Helicarrier operational, even if it’s held together with duct tape and prayers."

As the three of them worked, Serena’s thoughts drifted back to the call with Steve. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “Did Steven ask you to marry him yet?” Felicita had sounded almost smug, like she already knew the answer. And Maria, ever the instigator, hadn’t helped by spilling the beans about the proposal.

Serena shook her head, trying to refocus. She couldn’t afford to get distracted. Not now.

"Pierce," Fury barked, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Get me a status update on the communications array. If we can’t coordinate with the Avengers when this thing gets airborne, we’re toast."

"On it," Serena replied, pulling up the diagnostics. As she worked, her commlink buzzed. She glanced at Maria, who raised an eyebrow.

"Expecting another call from Captain Rogers?" Maria teased.

Serena ignored her, tapping the commlink. "Pierce here."

"Serena, it’s Steve." His voice came through clearly, though there was an edge of tension to it.

"Steve," she said, her heart skipping a beat. "What’s going on?"

"We’ve got Natasha’s location confirmed," Steve replied. "Ultron’s holed up in Sokovia, and we’re mobilizing to get her back. The team’s gearing up as we speak."

Serena’s chest tightened. "Do you have a plan?"

"Working on it," Steve admitted. "We’ll call you when we’re en route. Just... stay safe, okay?"

"You too," Serena said softly. "And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I’ll have an answer for you when this is over."

Steve’s chuckle was warm, even over the commlink. "I’ll hold you to that. I love you, Ser."

"I love you too," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

As the call ended, Maria leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. "Well, that’s progress."

"Shut up, Maria," Serena said, though her tone lacked any real heat.

Fury, who had clearly overheard the exchange, rolled his eye and muttered something about "kids these days" before turning back to his work.

"Alright," he barked, clapping his hands together. "Let’s get this bird in the air. We’ve got a world to save."

And with that, the race against time continued.

The whirring sound of the Helicarrier's auxiliary engines hummed steadily, filling the control room with a sense of impending action. The air was heavy with tension, as Fury, Maria, and Serena worked tirelessly to ensure the Helicarrier would be operational when the time came. The stakes were clear: if they couldn’t get it up and running, they would lose their best chance to save countless lives.

Maria leaned back in her chair, glancing toward Serena with a sly grin. "You know, we might as well embrace it."

Serena didn’t look up from her terminal. "Embrace what?"

"The nickname," Maria said, her grin widening. "Twisted Sisters."

Serena sighed and turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "You really are going off of what Stark called us? That’s your big contribution right now?"

Maria shrugged, unbothered. "Well, he wasn’t wrong. Back in the day, we were terrifying."

"Back in the day, we were also the ones cleaning up everyone else’s messes while Stark was busy breaking things," Serena shot back, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

Fury glanced over from his station, his expression deadpan. "If you two are done reliving your glory days, we’ve got work to do."

Maria rolled her eyes but returned to her screen. "Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it, boss. You loved watching us run circles around everyone."

Fury snorted. "I loved watching you get the job done. Doesn’t mean I need a trip down memory lane while we’re trying to save the world."

"Point taken," Serena said, though her tone was laced with amusement.

The banter provided a brief reprieve from the stress that hung over them like a storm cloud. Serena couldn’t deny that there was some truth to Maria’s words. During their time in the CIA and later with S.H.I.E.L.D., they had been an unstoppable duo—efficient, relentless, and unflinching. But those days felt like a lifetime ago.

Maria broke the silence again, her tone lighter this time. "You know, if Stark’s gonna give us a nickname, the least he could do is acknowledge that we were the ones who kept his messes from blowing up in everyone’s faces."

Serena smirked. "You mean literally?"

"Obviously," Maria replied with a laugh. "How many times did we have to step in and deal with some post-Iron Man fallout?"

"Too many," Serena said, shaking her head.

Fury cut in, his voice sharp but not unkind. "If you two spent as much energy on this Helicarrier as you do reminiscing, we’d be airborne already."

"Relax, Nick," Maria said, not missing a beat. "We’ve got this."

Serena’s fingers danced over the keyboard as she ran another diagnostic. The navigation system was finally coming online, though it was still far from perfect. "Navigation is almost there," she reported. "We’re still looking at a delay if the engines give out, but it’s functional."

"Good," Fury said, nodding. "Keep at it."

As the minutes ticked by, the room fell into a comfortable rhythm. Serena focused on her work, her mind occasionally drifting to Natasha, held captive in Sokovia, and Steve, preparing for what would undoubtedly be a dangerous mission. The weight of it all was almost suffocating, but she pushed through, channeling her anxiety into precision and efficiency.

Maria glanced at her again, her expression more serious this time. "You doing okay, Ser?"

Serena hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Just... trying to stay focused."

Maria leaned back in her chair, watching her closely. "You’ve been through worse. You’ve got this."

Serena offered a small smile. "Thanks, Maria."

The quiet camaraderie between them was a reminder of the bond they’d forged over years of working together. Despite the chaos around them, they knew they could rely on each other.

Fury’s voice broke through the moment. "Alright, enough sentiment. We’ve got a world to save, and this Helicarrier isn’t gonna fix itself."

Serena and Maria shared a glance, their smirks almost identical.

"Let’s get to it," Serena said, turning back to her screen.

As the hum of the Helicarrier’s systems grew louder, Serena couldn’t shake the feeling that they were racing against the clock. But if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that this team—fractured as it might be—had a way of pulling through when it mattered most.

And she wasn’t about to let them down.

The vibrations underfoot grew stronger as the Helicarrier’s engines roared to life, the once-dormant machine awakening like a slumbering giant. The tension in the control room was electric, each person focused on their task as they neared the moment of truth.

Fury stood at the center of the room, his gaze locked on the main display showing the engine readouts. "How are we looking?"

Maria glanced at her screen, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Engines are stable, auxiliary power is holding. We’re green across the board."

Serena’s eyes scanned her own monitor, confirming Maria’s report. "Navigation is fully operational. The automated systems are ready to handle the lift."

"Good," Fury said, his voice steady. "Let’s see this bird fly."

The tension in the room reached its peak as Fury gave the final command. "Initiate liftoff."

A low rumble echoed through the Helicarrier as the massive thrusters engaged, their power vibrating through the steel structure. Serena gripped the edge of her station as the entire vessel shifted, the ground below receding as the Helicarrier rose into the air.

"We’re airborne," Maria announced, her voice a mix of relief and pride. "Altitude is holding steady. All systems are green."

Fury’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. "About damn time."

The Helicarrier ascended higher, its sheer size a testament to the might of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s engineering. Serena allowed herself a brief moment to take it in, the sight of the vast landscape below a stark reminder of what they were fighting for.

Maria leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smug grin. "Not bad for a couple of Twisted Sisters, huh?"

Serena rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Don’t let it go to your head, Hill."

Fury shot them a look, his expression caught between exasperation and amusement. "You two done patting yourselves on the back? We’ve got work to do."

Maria shrugged, her grin unfazed. "Just saying, Nick. You can thank us anytime."

"I’ll thank you when this thing stays in the air and saves some lives," Fury shot back, turning his attention back to the main console. "Pierce, status on comms?"

Serena’s fingers moved deftly across her keyboard. "Comms are fully operational. We’re patched into emergency frequencies and ready to coordinate evac if needed."

"Good," Fury said with a nod. "Keep it that way."

The team settled into their rhythm, each person focused on their task as the Helicarrier leveled out at its cruising altitude. The automated systems handled the piloting, freeing them to prepare for the next phase of their mission.

Maria glanced at Serena, her expression softening slightly. "Hey, you okay?"

Serena nodded, though her shoulders remained tense. "Yeah. Just... thinking about what’s coming next."

Maria leaned closer, her voice low. "We’ll handle it, Ser. Just like we always do."

Serena met her gaze, her lips quirking into a faint smile. "I know. Thanks, Maria."

The moment was interrupted by a sharp beep from one of the consoles. Fury stepped forward, his expression hardening. "What is it?"

Maria checked the readout, her brow furrowing. "We’re picking up chatter on the emergency frequencies. Sounds like movement near Sokovia."

Fury’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. "That’s Ultron. He’s making his move."

Serena’s stomach churned at the mention of Sokovia. Natasha was still out there, held captive in Ultron’s fortress, and every second that passed only increased the danger she was in. Serena forced herself to focus, pushing aside the anxiety clawing at her chest.

"Do we have coordinates?" Fury asked.

Maria nodded, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Uploading them now. We’ve got a general location, but no exact point."

"Good enough for now," Fury said. He turned to Serena. "Get ready. If this goes sideways, we’re going to need every contingency in place."

Serena straightened, her resolve hardening. "Understood."

The Helicarrier hummed steadily, a fortress in the sky ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. Despite the uncertainty ahead, they were ready. And when the time came, they would fight.

Because failure wasn’t an option.

 

 

Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Notes:

Fill free to comment.

The battle in Sokovia raged on, chaos and destruction spreading across the floating city. The Avengers were scattered, each fighting to protect civilians and stop Ultron's drones from overtaking the area. High above, Serena stood in the Helicarrier's command deck, her green eyes fixed on the screens showing the dire situation below.

"Altitude holding steady at eighteen thousand," Maria Hill reported from her station.

"Deploy lifeboats," Fury commanded, his voice steady but sharp.

Serena leaned over the console, watching as the lifeboats disengaged, their sleek forms streaking toward the floating city. Her heart pounded in her chest as she saw Steve and the others fighting amidst the chaos. She caught a glimpse of Natasha emerging from the fortress with Banner—Hulk—at her side, her movements fluid despite the intensity of the battle.

"Hang in there, Cap," Serena murmured under her breath, her hand gripping the edge of the console.

"Pierce, we're up," Fury said, nodding toward her. "Get the coms on the line, I want to make a statement."

"Already on it." Serena announced as she grabbed her headset, patching into the team's frequency. 

Unknown to those who were on the Helicarrier, Natasha, who was rescued from the former HYDRA base by Banner (who then turned into the Hulk) rejoined the team,  and was taking down drone after drone with Steve. Noticing that Steve was about to be hit by one, she started sprinting to his side as she took down a drone with her batons.

"Romanoff!" Steve called, relief evident in his tone.

"Thanks," Natasha replied, her gaze shifting skyward to the lifeboats now descending.

Meanwhile, Tony hovered near the Vibranium spire, his HUD flooded with data from FRIDAY.

"The anti-gravs are rigged to flip," FRIDAY reported. "Touch 'em, they'll go full reverse thrust. The city's not coming down slow."

Tony sighed. "The spire's Vibranium. If I get Thor to hit it—"

"It'll crack, but that's not enough. The impact would still be devastating."

"Maybe if we cap the other end, keep the atomic action doubling back."

"That could vaporize the city, and everyone on it."

Steve glanced at Natasha and then back to Stark on the comms. "The next wave's gonna hit any minute. What have you got, Stark?"

Tony's voice crackled back. "Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear."

Steve's jaw tightened. "I asked for a solution, not an escape plan."

"Impact radius is getting bigger every second," Tony retorted. "We're going to have to make a choice."

Natasha stepped forward, her voice firm. "Cap, these people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock—"

"Not 'til everyone's safe," Steve interrupted, his tone unwavering.

Natasha's eyes softened slightly. "Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There's no math there."

"I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it," Steve said firmly.

Natasha gave a small, resigned smile. "I didn't say we should leave. There are worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?"

That's when Fury's voice cut through the comms, his tone tinged with his trademark sarcasm. "Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better."

The Helicarrier emerged from the clouds, its massive silhouette casting a shadow over the floating city. Serena smirked as she watched the reactions of the Avengers on the ground.

"Nice, right?" Fury said. "I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do."

Steve's voice crackled with a mix of shock and relief. "Fury, you son of a bitch."

"Ooh, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Fury shot back.

"Altitude is eighteen thousand and climbing," Maria announced, her hands deftly maneuvering the controls.

Specialist Cameron Klein chimed in nervously, "Lifeboats secure to deploy. Disengage in three, two... take 'em out."

The lifeboats launched, speeding toward the city. Pietro Maximoff, standing beside Steve, watched in awe.

"This is SHIELD?" Pietro asked, his tone skeptical.

Steve gave a faint smile. "This is what SHIELD's supposed to be."

Pietro nodded, impressed. "This is not so bad."

"Let's load 'em up," Steve ordered, his voice carrying over the din of battle.

Maria Hill's voice rang out. "Sir, we have multiple bogies converging on our starboard flank."

"Show 'em what we got," Fury commanded, his gaze hard.

Serena patched into her headset, with a small sigh. "You're up."

While they were in the air, Fury had called in Rhodey, to help Stark, Thor, and Vision with aerial support. No sooner she spoke into her headset, Rhodey—fully suited as War Machine—blasted into action, taking out a wave of Ultron's drones.

"Yes! Now this is gonna be a good story," He said with a grin.

Tony's voice cut in, amused. "Yep. If you live to tell it."

"You think I can't hold my own?" Rhodey retorted.

Tony quipped, "We get through this, I'll hold your own."

Rhode7 groaned. "You had to make it weird."

As Hill managed the lifeboat operations, a drone crashed through one of the windows, sending Specialist Klein into a panic.

"Incoming!" Serena shouted.

"Oh, God!" Klein exclaimed, scrambling back as the drone advanced.

Hill and Pierce both fired at it, their aims precise, while Fury grabbed a piece of metal and plunged it into the drone, disabling it.

"Nice teamwork," Serena muttered, watching the scene unfold.

Fury glanced at her with a smirk. "Just another day at the office."

Clint's voice carried over the comms as he guided civilians to the lifeboats. "Alright, let's load 'em up! Alright, here we go. Here we go, let's move. Let's go everyone!"

Above, the Helicarrier provided cover, its massive guns firing at Ultron's drones. The battle raged on, but for the first time, the tide seemed to turn in the Avengers' favor.

Serena's voice came through the comms, steady and confident. "Avengers, lifeboats are deploying. Keep them clear. We'll cover you from above."

"Copy that," Steve replied, his tone firm.

Serena leaned back, her gaze fixed on the chaos below. They still had a long way to go, but for the first time in hours, hope felt within reach.

The battle in Sokovia was escalating, the Helicarrier's efforts barely keeping up with Ultron's relentless assault. Onboard, the tension was palpable as the team worked tirelessly to coordinate the rescue efforts.

Fury stood in the center of the bridge, his sharp gaze fixed on the unfolding chaos below. He turned to Maria Hill, who was monitoring the operation with her usual efficiency. "Hill, get Pierce ready."

Maria froze mid-gesture, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that, boss? She's been doing fine up here."

Fury didn't waver. "We need her on the ground. She's been in the thick of it before. She can handle this."

Maria gave him a skeptical look but didn't argue. Instead, a small smirk tugged at her lips. "The Viper is out of her den," she muttered, tapping into her comms.

Serena, who had stopped being on the bridge to help run diagnostics on the Helicarrier's weapon systems, turned sharply as Maria's voice crackled through the speaker in her ear. "Pierce, gear up. Fury wants you on the ground."

Serena blinked, her fingers pausing over the console. "You're kidding."

Maria's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Do I sound like I'm kidding?"

Serena exhaled, already pushing herself away from her station. "On it."

Serena strode through the Helicarrier's corridors, her phthalo green suit fitting snugly like a second skin. It was a near replica of Natasha's, designed for mobility and stealth, though the striking green hue set her apart. Her hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and her expression was one of quiet determination.

As she walked, the speakers overhead blared a familiar tune. Beyoncé's "Diva" pulsed through the air, the lyrics perfectly timed as Serena made her way toward the bridge.

"Diva is a female version of a hustla..."

Maria was standing near the controls with a mischievous grin, one finger tapping the console to the beat.

"Really, Maria?" Serena called, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Maria shrugged, unapologetic. "It felt appropriate."

When she entered the bridge, Klein's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Pierce! You're back in action!"

Serena rolled her eyes but smirked. "We all remember I was in the field, like, two days ago, and I had a nervous breakdown, right?"

Klein hesitated for a moment, scratching the back of his neck. "Well... yeah. But you've got this!"

Serena let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she strapped on her utility belt. "Thanks, Klein."

Maria leaned over, smirking. "Don't let him down now, Pierce."

Within a matter of moments, Serena was in a Quinjet heading to the ground. No sooner the ramp got lowered on the Quinjet, and as soon as she stepped for on the ground, she heard Tony's voice come over the comms. "Whoa, Barbie's going tactical. Didn't think you'd want to risk getting dirt on that pristine suit."

"Funny coming from you, Stark," Serena retorted dryly. "Considering you're the one who created this mess."

"Touché," Tony replied, the smirk evident in his voice.

Steve's voice broke through the comms, his tone laced with surprise. "Pierce? You're on the ground?"

"You bet I am," she replied, with a small sigh, as she surveyed the area around her.

Steve's voice came through again, softer this time. "Be careful."

"I always am," she replied, her voice steady.

Serena moved through the wreckage with the grace of a seasoned operative, taking out drones with precise strikes and her dual pistols. Her movements were fluid, every action deliberate. Even in the chaos, she exuded calm, focused energy.

As she fought, her comms buzzed. Fury's voice broke through. "Pierce, you've got incoming."

Before Serena could respond, a second voice joined the channel—Felicita de Fontaine Pierce.

"Nick," Felicita began, her tone icy. "Why is my daughter on the ground? She is no longer a field agent."

Fury smirked slightly, unfazed by her tone. "Good to hear from you too, Felicita. She's on the ground because we need her. And last I checked, she's damn good at what she does."

Felicita's eyes narrowed on the video feed, her expression unreadable. "Nick, she hasn't been in the middle of a firefight like this since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. She's a CIA liaison, not an active operative."

"She's still a damn good agent," Fury countered. "And she volunteered."

"More like you volunteered me," Serena muttered under her breath, firing at a drone as it charged toward her.

Felicita's gaze softened slightly hearing her daughter's voice. "Serena, get out of there as soon as you can. That's an order."

"I'll be fine, Mom," Serena replied, her tone firm. "We've got this."

Felicita's lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. "Be careful."

Serena regrouped with the Avengers, seamlessly joining their formation as they fought to protect the civilians. Clint gave her a quick nod of approval, while Natasha smirked.

"Nice suit," Natasha quipped as Serena fired a well-aimed shot at a drone.

"Thanks. Yours inspired it," Serena replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Pietro sped past, pausing just long enough to give her a once-over. "You're good. Not as fast as me, but good."

"Keep moving, Speedy," she shot back, rolling her eyes.

As the battle raged on, Serena's comm crackled with Fury's voice. "Keep holding the line, Pierce. We're not done yet."

"Copy that," Serena replied, her voice steady despite the chaos around her.

Above, the Helicarrier loomed like a beacon of hope, its lifeboats continuing to ferry civilians to safety. And for the first time in a long while, Serena felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

The air was thick with smoke and ash, the deafening sounds of battle reverberating through the crumbling streets of Sokovia. Serena moved with precision, her senses heightened as she kept pace with the Avengers. The mission was clear: hold the line, protect the civilians, and stop Ultron.

Each step she took was deliberate, her instincts honed from years of training. But this wasn't the clean-cut kind of operation she was used to. Sokovia was chaos, and even the most calculated moves felt like they were barely holding the tide.

"Serena, on your left!" Steve's voice came through the comms, sharp and clear.

She turned just in time to see a drone charging her, its eyes glowing menacingly. With a quick sidestep, she fired two precise shots, the first disabling its sensor and the second piercing its power core. The drone collapsed in a heap of sparking metal.

"Got it," she replied, her breathing steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Nearby, Natasha was coordinating the evacuation, guiding civilians toward the lifeboats from the Helicarrier. Clint was perched on a makeshift sniper's nest, covering the crowd with his bow, while Wanda and Pietro worked tirelessly to keep the drones at bay.

Serena spotted Thor across the square, his hammer crackling with energy as he launched himself into a swarm of Ultron's drones. The thunderclap that followed sent a ripple of relief through the air, momentarily thinning their enemies.

"Serena!" Clint's voice drew her attention. She turned to see him waving her over. "I've got a group pinned down near the eastern alley! Can you clear a path?"

"On it!" she called back, sprinting toward the narrow passage.

The alley was littered with debris, the remnants of storefronts and vehicles scattered across the ground. A small group of terrified civilians huddled against a wall, their eyes wide with fear as three drones loomed over them. Serena didn't hesitate. She vaulted over a piece of rubble, landing in a crouch before unleashing a flurry of precise shots. The drones crumpled to the ground, one after another.

"Move!" she urged the civilians, motioning for them to follow her. "Head toward the square. Natasha and Clint will get you to safety."

One of the civilians, a boy no older than ten, clung to her hand as they navigated the wreckage. His small voice trembled. "Are we going to die?"

"Not on my watch," Serena replied, her tone firm but reassuring. She squeezed his hand gently, her resolve hardening. "Keep moving. You'll be fine."

As they reached the edge of the square, Clint called down from his perch. "I see you! Bring them through!"

Serena ushered the group forward, giving the boy a small push toward Clint before turning back to the alley. She didn't have time to rest—there was always another threat, another life to save.

Above them, the city continued its slow, horrifying ascent. The ground beneath their feet trembled as the anti-gravity generators did their work, ripping Sokovia from its foundations.

"Serena," Tony's voice crackled over the comms, his tone unusually tense. "Tell me you've got eyes on the civilians near the central tower."

"I'm headed that way," she replied, already changing direction. "What's the situation?"

"Bad," Tony said flatly. "The structural integrity of this thing is shot. If it collapses before we clear them out—"

"I get it," Serena cut in, quickening her pace. "I'm on it."

The central tower loomed ahead, its once-pristine facade now riddled with cracks and scorch marks. Drones buzzed like angry wasps around it, firing indiscriminately at anyone who dared come near. Serena ducked behind a fallen beam, assessing the scene. A handful of civilians were trapped inside, their frantic cries barely audible over the chaos.

"Steve," she called into her comm, "I've got civilians trapped in the central tower. I'll need backup to clear a path."

"On my way," Steve replied instantly. "Hold tight."

Serena didn't wait. She darted from her cover, her movements precise and deliberate as she engaged the nearest drones. The first went down with a well-placed shot to its power core, but the second managed to fire back, forcing her to dive behind another piece of rubble.

A familiar shield ricocheted through the air, slamming into the drone before returning to its owner. Serena looked up to see Steve standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of determination and concern.

"Thought you could use some help," he said, extending a hand to pull her up.

"Perfect timing," she replied, grabbing his hand. "We need to get inside."

The two of them worked in unison, their movements fluid as they pushed toward the tower's entrance. Steve's shield deflected incoming fire while Serena picked off drones with pinpoint accuracy. When they finally reached the civilians, Steve knelt to reassure them while Serena kept watch.

"Everyone stay close," Steve instructed, his voice steady. "We'll get you out of here."

Serena covered their retreat, her eyes scanning constantly for any sign of danger. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, but she didn't falter. There was no room for fear—only action.

As the civilians were safely loaded onto the lifeboats, Serena took a moment to catch her breath. Her comm crackled to life, and Fury's voice came through, sharp and authoritative.

"Pierce, status report."

"Civilians are clear from the central tower," she replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "What's next?"

"We're running out of time," Fury said. "Ultron's final wave is inbound. Get ready to hold the line."

Serena glanced toward the horizon, where a new swarm of drones was rapidly approaching. Her grip tightened on her pistols, determination burning in her chest.

"We'll hold," she said firmly.

Steve appeared at her side, his shield slung over his arm. "You okay?"

She nodded, her green eyes meeting his. "I've got this."

He offered her a small, encouraging smile. "I know you do."

The two of them stood together as the swarm closed in, ready to face whatever came next. Around them, the Avengers regrouped, their resolve unwavering despite the odds. The battle was far from over, but Serena knew they would fight until the end.

The battle raged on, the city of Sokovia hanging precariously in the sky, the heat and chaos engulfing every corner. Serena ducked behind a crumbling wall as a stray blast from one of Ultron's drones streaked past her, the heat singeing her exposed face. Steve crouched beside her, his shield raised defensively as more drones swarmed their position.

"Hey, you good?" he asked, his voice steady despite the madness around them.

"I'm fine," she replied, reloading her pistols. "But this whole 'flying city of doom' thing? Not exactly how I pictured spending my weekend."

Steve smirked faintly, the tension in his jaw betraying his focus. "We've had worse."

"Sure," she muttered, peeking around the wall to assess their next move. "But not by much."

The comms crackled, and Tony's voice came through, sharp and sarcastic as always. "Romanoff? You and Banner better not be playing 'hide the zucchini.'"

"Relax, Shell-head," Natasha replied, her voice cool as she joined the others near the core. "Not all of us can fly. What's the drill?"

"This is the drill," Tony said, pointing to the Vibranium core. "If Ultron gets a hand on it, we lose."

As if on cue, Ultron descended, his metallic form gleaming ominously in the fractured light. Thor stepped forward, his hammer crackling with energy as he squared off against the mechanical menace.

"Is that the best you can do?" Thor taunted.

Ultron tilted his head, and suddenly, the sky darkened with the sheer number of drones converging on their position. 

Serena shook her head in disbelief at Thor's comment.

"You had to ask?" Steve asked in annoyance as he looked to Thor.

Ultron practically smirked, his voice was cold, calculated. "This is the best I can do. This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?"

Tony's voice cut through the tension. "Well, like the old man said. Together."

The cinematic clash began, each Avenger bringing their unique skills to the fight. Serena darted through the chaos, her pistols taking down drones with precision while Steve's shield ricocheted through the air, clearing a path for them to advance.

"Serena, left!" Steve called, throwing his shield toward a cluster of drones.

She dove to the side, her pistols barking as she covered his flank. "I've got your six, Cap!"

The duo moved in perfect sync, each instinctively knowing where the other would be. It was a dance they'd perfected over countless missions, but this one felt different—heavier. The stakes had never been this high.

As the swarm of drones thickened, Tony's voice came through again. "Pierce, Cap, you two better not be playing 'Salute the Flagpole' down there!"

Serena groaned, firing off a burst that took out two drones. "Does he ever shut up?"

"Not if you ask him to," Steve replied with a faint smile, throwing his shield again.

The tide began to shift as Vision, Thor, and Tony combined their efforts to assault Ultron directly. Sparks flew as Vibranium clashed with lightning and repulsor beams, the sheer force of their attacks denting Ultron's seemingly indestructible body.

In the midst of the chaos, FRIDAY's voice cut through the comms. "Boss, power levels are way below optimal. You need to re-route everything."

Tony's reply was resolute. "Re-route it. We get one shot at this."

Nearby, Serena and Steve regrouped with Clint and Natasha as Wanda prepared to defend the core.

"You good here?" Clint asked, his bow nocked and ready.

Wanda nodded, her eyes glowing red. "It's my job. Go."

Steve glanced back at her, then at Serena. "We've got to sweep for stragglers. Ready?"

Serena nodded, her gaze steady. "Let's go."

As they moved out, Serena found herself alongside Steve, their movements synchronized as they cleared buildings and checked for survivors. The weight of the mission pressed down on her, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Rhodey, you've got drones trying to flee the city." Maria announced over the coms.

The comms buzzed, and Rhodey's voice came through. "I'm on it," he said, engaging another wave of drones. "Oh no, I didn't say you could leave. War Machine, comin' at you!"

The battle intensified, and Serena found herself separated momentarily, her focus drawn to a group of civilians pinned under debris. She moved swiftly, ignoring the chaos around her as she pried a steel beam loose, freeing them.

"Go!" she urged, ushering them toward the lifeboats.

Just as she turned, a drone charged her from behind. Before she could react, Steve's shield flew past her, striking the drone squarely and sending it crashing to the ground.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly as Steve approached.

"Always," he replied, offering a hand to help her up. Their eyes met briefly, a moment of understanding passing between them.

"Don't get sentimental on me, Rogers," she teased, a faint smile breaking through the tension.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a grin, leading her back into the fray.

As the city continued to rise, the battle grew fiercer. Serena could feel the air thinning, the stakes escalating with every passing second. They were running out of time, and everyone knew it.

Ultron's drones were relentless, but so were they. Serena fought with everything she had, her movements sharp and efficient as she carved a path through the chaos. And though exhaustion clawed at her, she refused to falter. Not now.

"Serena!" Steve's voice called out, drawing her attention. She turned to see him waving her toward the core, where the final battle was taking place.

She nodded, sprinting toward him as the team rallied for what would be their final stand.

The lifeboats were crowded with civilians, their expressions a mix of fear and exhaustion as they huddled together. Serena and Steve boarded one of the final lifeboats, their movements tense but deliberate as they ensured everyone was accounted for. The sounds of battle still echoed in the distance, a grim reminder of the stakes they'd faced.

Serena sat on the edge of the lifeboat, her eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of lingering threats. Steve stood nearby, his shield slung across his back, his gaze flickering to her every so often.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely carrying over the hum of the lifeboat's engines.

She nodded, though her expression was tight. "I'm fine. Just... processing."

Steve leaned against the railing beside her, his presence grounding. "It's not easy. Losing people, making those calls. It never gets easier."

Serena sighed, rubbing her temples. "I know. But it feels like every time we stop one catastrophe, another one's waiting just around the corner."

He reached out, his hand brushing against hers. "We'll get through it. Together."

She glanced at him, a faint smile breaking through her exhaustion. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

Steve shrugged, his lips quirking into a small grin. "Practice."

The comms buzzed as Tony's voice broke through the relative quiet. "Thor, I'm gonna need you back in the church."

Thor's voice came through next, his tone firm. "Is this the last of them?" he asked, directing the question to Steve.

Steve glanced at Serena and nodded. "Yeah. Everyone else is on the carrier."

Thor's voice was somber. "Maybe not."

Tony added, his tone laced with an uncharacteristic seriousness, "You know, if this works, we maybe don't walk away."

Steve looked at Serena, the weight of Tony's words hanging between them. She met his gaze, her expression resolute. "Then we make it count," she said firmly.

Steve nodded, his grip tightening on the railing. "Always.

As the lifeboats began their final approach to the Helicarrier, the battle intensified. Natasha's voice came over the comms, her tone calm but tinged with urgency. "Big guy, we did it. The job's finished. Now I need you to turn this bird around, okay?"

The Quinjet hovered near the Helicarrier, but there was no response from the Hulk. Natasha's voice softened. "We can't track you in stealth mode, so help me out. I need you t—"

The screen blinked out as the Hulk shut off the camera. From her position on the lifeboat, Serena glanced at Steve, her expression mirroring his concern.

"Do you think he'll come back?" she asked quietly.

Steve shook his head, his gaze distant. "I don't know. But wherever he's going, I hope he finds some peace."

The lifeboat jolted as they docked with the Helicarrier, the civilians filing out quickly under the guidance of SHIELD agents. Serena stepped off, her focus immediately drawn to Clint, who emerged from another lifeboat, carrying the young boy, Costel.

Her stomach dropped as she saw Clint's expression, the lines of grief etched deeply into his face. He handed the boy off to his sister before sinking to the ground beside Pietro's lifeless body.

Steve and Serena approached him cautiously. Clint didn't look up, his voice hoarse. "It's been a long day."

Serena knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You did everything you could, Clint."

Clint shook his head, his jaw tightening. "Not enough."

Steve crouched beside them, his expression somber. "He saved you. He saved that boy."

Clint nodded slowly, his eyes locked on Pietro's still form. "Yeah. He did."

In the distance, the final battle reached its climax. Stark's voice came through the comms again, strained but determined. "Thor, on my mark....NOW!"

The skies lit up as Thor summoned a blast of lightning, channeling it into the Vibranium core in the church. The city began to break apart, chunks of debris falling into the void below.

Wanda, still on the ground, unleashed a wave of energy as she sensed Pietro's death, destroying the remaining drones around her. Vision swooped in, lifting her from the crumbling ground and carrying her to safety as the city disintegrated.

The Helicarrier shuddered as the shockwave from the city's destruction reached them. Serena gripped the railing, her eyes locked on the remains of Sokovia as they fell into the abyss.

As the Helicarrier steadied, Steve and Serena stood side by side, watching the ruins of Sokovia fade into the distance. The civilians on board were quiet, their relief tempered by the losses they'd witnessed.

Steve broke the silence. "We did it. But at what cost?"

Serena sighed, her voice heavy. "Too high. It always is."

He turned to her, his expression resolute. "We'll make it right. Somehow."

She nodded, a faint flicker of hope in her eyes. "Together."

The Helicarrier hummed steadily as it moved away from the remnants of Sokovia, its deck filled with civilians and a battered Avengers team. The atmosphere was a mix of relief and exhaustion, punctuated by the quiet murmurs of people processing what they had just survived.

Serena leaned against the edge of the bridge, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her hair was damp with sweat, her Viper suit scuffed and marked from the battle. She let out a long breath, staring at the horizon as the chaos of the day began to settle.

"Hey, you're not allowed to die on me," Maria's voice cut through the quiet.

Serena turned to see Maria approaching, her usual confident stride accompanied by a relieved smile. "Glad you're alive, Pierce," Maria said, pulling her into a quick hug. "I was ready to kick Fury's ass for putting you on the ground."

Serena chuckled softly, her arms briefly squeezing Maria in return. "I'm tougher than I look, Hill."

Maria stepped back, her smirk widening. "Yeah, well, Beyoncé might have had something to do with it. Listening to Diva definitely helped you get in the zone."

Serena laughed, shaking her head. "I can't believe you played that while I was walking in. Really setting the tone, weren't you?"

"Hey, it worked," Maria quipped, folding her arms. "Admit it—you felt like a badass."

Serena's smile softened. "Maybe a little."

Klein nearly sprinted onto the bridge when he saw Serena standing there. "Pierce!" he exclaimed, skidding to a stop in front of her. "You're okay!"

She arched an eyebrow. "I think we established that, Klein. I'm standing right here."

Klein grinned sheepishly, his enthusiasm undeterred. "I'm just saying—it's good to see you made it back. That was intense."

"Yeah, intense is one word for it," Serena replied dryly. "But thanks, Klein. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," he said, his voice earnest. "And for what it's worth, you're kind of a legend around here. Even if you don't want to admit it."

Serena shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You're too much, Klein."

Stark, now out of the Iron Man suit, approached cautiously, his expression uncharacteristically serious. He paused a few steps away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Pierce," he began, his voice unusually tentative.

Serena turned to him, her brows lifting in mild surprise. "Stark? Something on your mind?"

Tony sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, actually. Look, I owe you an apology."

Serena blinked, folding her arms as she waited for him to continue.

"I've been a grade-A jerk," Tony admitted, his tone sincere. "Calling you and Hill 'The Twisted Sisters,' throwing shade every chance I got... I thought you were hiding something, or worse, working an angle. But I was wrong. You're not the enemy—you're on the right side. You always have been."

Serena studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke. "That's... unexpected. But I appreciate it, Tony. It takes guts to admit when you're wrong."

Tony nodded, his usual cockiness tempered by humility. "Don't get used to it. But seriously—thank you for everything. You saved a lot of lives today. Including mine."

"Don't mention it," Serena said, her tone light but genuine. "And for the record, 'The Twisted Sisters' wasn't your worst insult. I've been called worse...in all honesty, I think it's grown on Hill and I."

Tony smirked, his usual demeanor creeping back. "Yeah, but I'm still retiring it. It's time to turn over a new leaf."

Serena chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll believe it when I see it."

As the Helicarrier steadied, Vision entered the bridge, his ethereal presence commanding attention. His calm voice broke the quiet. "Ultron is gone."

Serena turned to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Gone, as in...?"

"Destroyed," Vision clarified. "I confronted his final form on the remnants of Sokovia. He could not accept his defeat, nor the inevitability of humanity's resilience. I ensured he would no longer pose a threat."

A weight seemed to lift from the room, the finality of Vision's words settling over them. Steve stepped closer to Serena, his hand brushing hers. "It's over," he said softly.

"For now," Serena murmured, her gaze distant. "There's always another battle waiting."

"But we'll face it," Steve said, his voice steady. "Together."

Later, as the civilians settled into the Helicarrier's safety zones and the team found brief moments of quiet, Serena and Steve stepped out onto a secluded balcony overlooking the clouds. The cool breeze carried with it a sense of fragile peace.

Serena leaned against the railing, her eyes on the horizon. "You asked me something before all of this started," she said, her voice soft.

Steve moved to stand beside her, his expression gentle. "I did."

She turned to him, her green eyes meeting his blue. "My answer is yes."

For a moment, Steve looked as though he hadn't heard her. Then, a brilliant smile broke across his face, his relief and joy palpable. "Yes?" he repeated, as if needing confirmation.

"Yes," Serena said firmly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I want to marry you."

Steve let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his hand reaching for hers. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his forehead resting against hers. "You just made me the happiest man alive," he murmured.

Serena chuckled, her voice warm. "Good. Because I'm not doing this twice."

He laughed, his lips brushing hers in a soft, tender kiss. For a moment, the weight of the world faded, leaving only the two of them.

As they pulled apart, Steve grinned. "You know, Tony's gonna make a big deal out of this."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Let him. I'm not hiding this anymore."

Steve's smile softened, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Neither am I."

The briefing room aboard the Helicarrier buzzed with muted conversations as the Avengers, battered but alive, gathered to hear Fury's debrief. Serena lingered near the corner, leaning against the wall, her mind still catching up with the whirlwind of the past few days. She toyed absentmindedly with her engagement ring, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Maria, as perceptive as ever, sidled up beside her, arms crossed. "You keep fidgeting with that hand, and I'm going to start thinking you're trying to signal for help."

Serena glanced at her, smirking. "Oh, I'm fine, Hill. But since you asked to see the ring..." She extended her hand, the emerald and diamonds catching the light.

Maria froze for a second before her eyes widened. "You said yes?"

Serena's smirk grew into a full smile. "I did."

Maria grinned, her professional demeanor cracking for a rare moment of excitement. "Finally! Rogers must be floating right now."

"Probably," Serena replied, her tone softening. "He deserves to."

Before Maria could comment further, Fury's voice cut through the room. "Alright, kids. Quiet down. We've got work to do."

Fury stood at the head of the room, his one good eye sweeping over the group. A large holographic display behind him showcased global hotspots, some marked with Ultron-related activity still being cleaned up.

"First off, good work out there," Fury began. "We saved the world again, and this time we didn't even blow up half of New York. Progress."

"We still blew up an entire country." Natasha countered with exhaustion and sadness.

"But still, progress." Fury said with a sigh.

The group chuckled softly, though the weight of exhaustion still lingered in their expressions.

"But," Fury continued, "there's still fallout to manage. Sokovia's a mess, and the world's watching. Damage control isn't just about cleaning up rubble; it's about sending the right message. That means we need to regroup, reassess, and figure out what the Avengers look like moving forward."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "We're setting up a new compound upstate. Stark's footing the bill, and it'll serve as the team's new base of operations. The tower's too public, too much of a target."

Tony, leaning casually against the wall, raised a hand. "Yeah, about that—I'm out."

Everyone turned to him, surprised.

"Wait, what?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes.

Tony shrugged. "Retiring. Hanging up the suit. I think I've done enough damage for one lifetime."

"Don't sell yourself short," Clint said with a smirk. "You've saved the world a couple of times, too."

"True," Tony conceded, "but it's time. I've got a tower to rebuild, a girlfriend who keeps asking when I'm going to stop getting shot at, and, honestly, I'm tired of the armor chafing."

Natasha arched a brow but said nothing, her expression unreadable.

Fury nodded. "Fair enough, Stark. But don't be surprised if we call you back in a pinch."

Tony smirked. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

Clint stepped forward next, rubbing the back of his neck. "Since we're sharing... I'm out, too."

This announcement drew a bigger reaction, especially from Natasha.

"What?" she said, her voice sharp. "Clint, you—"

"I know," Clint interrupted gently. "But I've got a family waiting for me. Laura's due any day now, and the kids... they need me. I can't keep doing this. Not like this."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his decision sinking in. Natasha's expression softened, and she nodded. "I get it. But you'll still be around, right?"

Clint grinned. "You know where to find me."

Fury cleared his throat, bringing the focus back to the briefing. "Alright. For the rest of you still in the game, the upstate compound will be fully operational in a few weeks. We'll debrief there and start planning for whatever comes next. Until then, get some rest. You've earned it."

As the group dispersed, Serena lingered near the front, glancing at the holographic map still lit with points of interest. Steve approached quietly, his presence grounding as always.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hand brushing hers.

She looked up at him, her smile faint but genuine. "Yeah. Just... a lot to take in."

Steve nodded, his blue eyes searching hers. "It's a lot for all of us. But we'll figure it out. Together."

Serena's hand found his, their fingers intertwining. "Together," she echoed.

Maria approached, her smirk as sharp as ever. "Alright, lovebirds. Don't forget we've got a debrief in the new compound soon. Can't have you two disappearing to celebrate just yet."

Serena rolled her eyes. "We'll be there, Hill."

Maria winked. "Good. Now, let's go see if Fury left anything in the Helicarrier's fridge worth stealing."

As she walked away, Steve glanced at Serena. "Did she just say she's stealing from Fury?"

Serena chuckled. "It's Maria. I'd be more worried if she didn't."

They shared a laugh, the tension of the past days beginning to lift. Whatever came next, they both knew they'd face it—together.

 

Notes:

One more chapter, and then we are done with Avengers: Age of Ultron. As always, let me know if you have any questions or concerns.

Chapter 30: Chapter 30

2 Weeks Later

The move to the Avengers' new facility in upstate New York was as quiet as it was momentous. For most of the team, it felt like closing the chapter on one life and stepping into another. The gleaming modern compound nestled among green hills stood in stark contrast to the city-bound chaos of Avengers Tower, a symbol of fresh starts, and for some, an uncertain future.

As the convoy of vehicles pulled into the expansive property, Steve, Natasha, and Serena stepped out first. Serena looked up at the building, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Looks like Stark spared no expense," she muttered, her tone neutral as her green eyes scanned the pristine exterior.

Natasha smirked. "You expected anything less?"

Steve gave a small smile but didn't comment, his gaze lingering on the horizon. The team behind them began unloading supplies as Tony Stark's Audi R8 purred up the driveway. He parked with a dramatic flourish, stepping out and smoothing his suit.

"Well," Tony said, taking in the view, "welcome to Avengers Farm 2.0. Hope nobody's allergic to fresh air."

"Or humility," Serena quipped, earning a chuckle from Natasha.

Tony grinned. "Touché."

Inside the compound, Natasha stood in one of the hallways, staring at a video on her tablet. The image of Nathaniel Pietro Barton brought a rare softness to her expression.

Laura's voice chimed from the recording: "Say hi to Auntie Nat."

"Fat," Natasha whispered, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.

Nick Fury approached, his presence as commanding as ever. "One of our tech boys flagged this," he said, holding up a tablet. "Splashed down in the Banda Sea. Could be the Quinjet. But with Stark's stealth tech, we still can't track the damn thing."

Natasha handed back the tablet, her voice distant. "Right."

Fury studied her for a moment. "Probably jumped out and swam to Fiji. He'll send a postcard."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Wish you were here."

"You sent me to recruit him way back when," she said, her tone almost accusatory. "Did you know then what was going to happen?"

"You never know," Fury replied, his tone gruff but not unkind. "You hope for the best and make do with what you get. I got a great team."

Natasha's gaze hardened. "Nothing lasts forever."

Fury sighed. "Trouble, Miss Romanoff. No matter who wins or loses, trouble still comes around."

The late afternoon sun bathed the compound's grounds as Steve, Tony, and Thor lingered near the driveway, sharing what could only be described as a conversation among reluctant friends.

"The rules have changed," Steve began, his voice steady.

Tony crossed his arms. "We're dealing with something new."

Steve nodded. "Well, the Vision's artificial intelligence—"

"A machine," Tony interrupted.

"So it doesn't count," Steve continued.

"No," Tony said. "It's not like a person lifting the hammer."

"Right," Steve agreed. "Different rules for us."

"Nice guy, but artificial," Tony said, almost to himself.

"Thank you," Steve added.

Thor, standing apart but listening intently, finally spoke. "If he can wield the hammer, he can keep the Mind Stone. It's safe with the Vision, and these days, safe is in short supply."

Steve considered his words. "But if you put the hammer in an elevator..."

"It would still go up," Tony quipped with a smirk.

"Elevator's not worthy," Steve countered, earning a chuckle from Thor.

Thor's expression sobered. "I'm going to miss these little talks of ours."

"Well, not if you don't leave," Tony said dryly.

"I have no choice," Thor replied. "The Mind Stone is the fourth of the Infinity Stones to show up in the last few years. That's not a coincidence. Someone has been playing an intricate game and has made pawns of us. But once all these pieces are in position..."

Tony tilted his head. "Triple Yahtzee?"

Thor gave him a long look. "You think you can find out what's coming?"

"I do," Thor replied. "Besides this one," he added, gesturing to Tony, "there's nothing that can't be explained."

A brilliant beam of light engulfed Thor as he summoned the Bifrost, leaving a scorched sigil in the grass.

Tony stared at the mark with mock horror. "That man has no regard for lawn maintenance. I'm gonna miss him, though." He turned to Steve, his tone softening. "And you're gonna miss me. There's gonna be a lot of manful tears."

Steve smiled faintly. "I will miss you, Tony."

Tony shrugged, his bravado slipping slightly. "Well, it's time for me to tap out. Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book, build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up."

"The simple life," Steve mused.

"You'll get there one day," Tony said, looking at Steve meaningfully.

Steve hesitated. "I don't know. Family, stability... The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Tony gave him a long look. "You alright?"

Steve's gaze shifted, and a small, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips as his eyes met Serena's, who stood by the building's entrance, engaged in a conversation with one of the former S.H.I.E.L.D agents, who would now be working for the Avengers. "I'm home."

Tony nodded, his expression unreadable as he got into his car and drove away.

Steve and Serena then walked back into the compound and found Natasha standing alone in the control room, staring at a blank wall.

"You want to keep staring at the wall," Steve asked, his voice tinged with humor, "or do you want to go to work? I mean, it's a pretty interesting wall."

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, smirking faintly. "I thought you and Tony were still gazing into each other's eyes. How do we look?"

Steve handed her a tablet. "Well, we're not the '27 Yankees'."

Natasha looked over the roster displayed on the screen. "We've got some hitters."

"They're good," Steve said, his tone measured. "They're not a team."

Serena's smirk widened. "Let's beat 'em into shape."

The trio moved into the training room, where Rhodey, Vision, Wanda, and Sam waited, each outfitted and ready.

Steve stepped forward, his voice strong and steady. "Avengers..."

1 Month Later

The electric buzz of excitement filled Madison Square Garden as Steve Rogers and Serena Pierce entered the arena, their steps quick against the tiled floors echoing with the murmur of hockey fans. Serena adjusted her red Capitals baseball cap, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. She looked up at Steve, a grin spreading across her face as she took in his calm but curious expression.

"Alright, Steve," she began, looping her arm through his. "Here's the deal. My family takes hockey very seriously. Like, 'sacred ritual' seriously. It's loud, chaotic, and deeply competitive. Just smile and nod."

He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling. "How competitive are we talking?"

"Let's just say," she smirked, "if you mention the Rangers in front of my family, Nick might disown me."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Noted. No Rangers."

As they approached the private suite section, Serena stopped. "Hold on a sec." She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of her engagement ring, its emerald and diamond band catching the bright lights of the arena. She typed out a caption with a small, satisfied smile:

Said yes to my best friend. 

Within seconds, the post blew up with comments.

tonystark: About damn time, Barbie. Now, when's the bachelor party?

mariahill: My twisted sister, making moves. Congrats!

capitals: Welcome to the Caps family, Captain Rogers! 

samwilson: Congrats, you two! Steve, don't get yourself banned for life from MSG tonight.

natasharomanoff: Finally. You two are disgustingly perfect together.

lewishamilton:  Massive Congratulations, Sis! Wishing you both all the happiness in the world!

taylorswift:  So happy for you both!

nicorosburg:  Congratulations, Serena! Wishing you both all the happiness in the world.

selenagomez:  Congrats! Sending love your way!

capitals:  Congrats to Captain Rogers and Serena! On a side note, are we invited to the wedding?

pauldiresta:  Big congrats, Serena! He's a lucky guy.

gigihadid:  OMG CONGRATS SERENA! That ring is stunning!

jensonbutton:  Amazing news! So happy for you two.

sebastianvettel:  Congratulations, Serena! Here's to love and a bright future ahead!

danielriccardo:  YESSSSSS!!! Serena, you legend. Congrats to you and the Captain. Can't wait to toast to this properly, I'll bring the shoeys!

nicolescherzinger:  OMG! Can't believe it! Couldn't be happier for you both! 

nickpierce_official:  Does this mean I have to call him brother-in-law now? Congrats, Sis! (PS: The Capitals are still my team, Rogers.)

alisonpierceDCC:  I'm so happy for you both! Also, that ring...Steve, well done!

Serena slipped her phone into her pocket, glancing up at Steve with a grin. "You're officially the internet's favorite fiancé."

Steve smiled, leaning down to kiss her temple. "Not as much as you are."

Once inside, Serena guided Steve toward the tunnel leading to the ice. "You're up first," she teased, handing him off to the Capitals officials who were waiting.

"What exactly am I doing?" he asked, his tone curious but calm.

"You'll see," she replied with a wink.

The announcer's voice boomed over the arena: "Ladies and gentlemen, for tonight's ceremonial puck drop, please welcome a very special guest—Captain America himself, Steve Rogers!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound almost deafening as fans rose to their feet. Steve strode onto the ice, his iconic calm confidence on display as he shook hands with the captains of both teams. From her vantage point in the tunnel, Serena watched with a fond smile, her heart swelling with pride.

As the puck dropped, the crowd erupted again, chants of "Cap! Cap! Cap!" echoing through the arena. Steve gave a small wave before heading back toward the suite.

When Steve entered the suite, Serena's brother, Nick, greeted him with a bear hug. "Welcome to the madhouse!" he bellowed, thrusting a red Capitals jersey into Steve's hands. The back bore the name ROGERS and the number 89.

"Eighty-nine?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's the year Serena was born," Nick explained with a grin. "You're one of us now."

Steve chuckled, pulling the jersey over his shirt. It fit perfectly. "Thanks, Nick."

"Don't thank me yet. Wait until you see how crazy this family gets when we score."

Serena rolled her eyes, tugging Steve to a seat next to her. She was dressed chicly in a cream sweater, dark jeans, and knee-high boots, her only nod to the Capitals being her hat. Beside her, Alison, Nick's wife and a proud Texan, sat with her cowboy boots propped on the suite's low table. 

"First hockey game?" Alison asked Steve with a teasing smile.

"First one with this much pressure," Steve admitted.

The Capitals' first goal came midway through the first period, and the suite exploded into cheers. Jump Around by House of Pain blasted through the arena, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Felicita's head whipped toward Nick, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Nicholas," she said coolly, "I thought we agreed on a different song for the goal."

Nick shrugged, grinning mischievously. "What can I say? I thought this fit the vibe better."

Felicita sighed, muttering under her breath about her son's antics, while Serena and Nick immediately launched into an elaborate handshake. Clapping, spinning, and bumping elbows, they ended with Nick dropping to his knees and shouting, "BOW DOWN BEFORE THE HOCKEY GODS!"

Steve laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. "Do you two plan this stuff?"

"All instinct," Serena said with a wink.

As the game continued, Capitals officials brought a group of young fans to the suite for a special surprise. Steve greeted them warmly, posing for pictures and signing jerseys. One little girl, however, approached Serena timidly.

"Can I have a picture with just you, Miss Viper?" she asked.

Serena knelt to her level, her heart softening. "Of course," she said. After the picture, the girl whispered, "You're really brave."

Serena smiled, touched. "Thank you. So are you."

Midway through the third period, the announcer's voice rang out again. "Looks like we've got two Avengers in the house! Everyone, give it up for Captain America and the Viper, Serena Pierce!"

The camera zoomed in on the Pierce Suite, where Steve and Serena sat side by side. The crowd roared, chanting, "Cap! Cap! Cap!"

Steve leaned down, kissing Serena's temple as the words "Fiancée" flashed across the screen beneath their names. The cheers grew even louder.

The Capitals clinched the win, and the suite erupted in celebration. As the family gathered their things, Steve leaned down to Serena. "This might've been the best hockey game I've ever been to."

She grinned. "Get used to it, Rogers. This is your life now."

Steve then posted a picture of the two of them from the suite. 

The caption read: "First Caps game with the best team in the world."

And just like Serena's post, the comments came rolling in:

tonystark: So what's next, Rogers? Mascot tryouts? #Barbie

mariahill: My twisted sister strikes again. 

capitals: Once a Cap, always a Cap. Welcome to the family, Captain Rogers!

lewishamilton:  Take care of my sister...and welcome to the chaos!

Serena glanced at her phone, reading the comments with a smile. "You know," she said to Steve as they walked out into the crisp night air, "I think you survived the Pierce family initiation."

Steve grinned, pulling her closer. "I had the best guide."

Madison Square Garden hummed with the faint echo of fans long gone, the icy chill of the rink now replaced by the quiet hum of the refrigeration units. After the Capitals' thrilling victory, the Pierce family, joined by Steve, stayed behind for some family time on the ice. 

When they stepped onto the ice, the rink's empty grandeur stretched around them. Serena immediately grabbed a stick, testing its weight, while Nick practiced a few shots on an empty net.

Felicita, staying near the boards, sipped her coffee and watched as Serena and Nick began an informal game. Steve joined in, quickly catching onto the rhythm of their playful back-and-forth.

Felicita's eyes lingered on Serena as she skated with ease, her laughter echoing faintly across the ice. Steve skated over to join Felicita near the boards, his stick resting casually on the ice.

"She seems happy," Steve said quietly, watching Serena closely.

"She does," Felicita agreed, though there was a weight to her tone. "But I know my daughter well enough to see that she's still carrying things."

Steve nodded, leaning on his stick. "She hasn't really talked about Sokovia. Or... everything with her father."

Felicita's jaw tightened slightly, but she kept her gaze on the ice. "Alexander was a complicated man. I never wanted to believe he was capable of what he did, but when the truth came out..."

She trailed off, shaking her head. "Serena's never been one to dwell on her pain. She powers through it, hides it. But killing her own father, as much as he deserved it... that's not something anyone gets over easily."

Steve's expression softened. "I've tried to get her to open up, but it's hard. Sokovia didn't help. Wanda—what she did to her—it's like she's stuck replaying it all in her head."

"She probably is," Felicita admitted, her voice quiet. "But you being there for her means more than you know, Steven. She doesn't let people in easily, but she let you in. That's something."

Steve glanced back at Serena, who was now celebrating a goal she scored on Nick. Her laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the weight she carried. "She's stronger than she gives herself credit for."

Felicita nodded, a faint smile gracing her lips. "She always has been. She just needs time to believe it herself."

The game on the ice reached a fever pitch as Nick and Serena faced off in a mock one-on-one battle. Despite her lack of competitive hockey experience, Serena held her own, her agility and quick thinking keeping Nick on his toes.

"Come on, Rogers!" Nick called out, skating back toward the net. "You're supposed to be helping me!"

Steve laughed, taking the puck and passing it back to Serena. "Sorry, I'm team Serena tonight."

"Oh, this is betrayal!" Nick exclaimed, mock-clutching his chest.

Serena smirked, lining up her shot. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent the puck sailing into the net, her triumphant cheer echoing across the rink.

"Yes!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

Nick dropped to his knees in mock defeat. "I demand a rematch!"

As the family gathered their things and prepared to leave the ice, Serena skated over to Steve, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

"Not bad for your first Pierce family hockey night," she teased, nudging him playfully.

"Not bad at all," Steve agreed, smiling. "But next time, I'm scoring at least one goal."

"Good luck with that," Nick called from across the rink, laughing.

Felicita joined them at the edge of the ice, her demeanor softening as she looked at her children. "You two are exhausting to watch."

"That's the point, Mom," Serena quipped, unlacing her skates.

As they left the arena, the night air was crisp, carrying the faint sounds of the city around them. Serena slipped her hand into Steve's, a small smile playing on her lips. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace—however fleeting it might be.

And that, she realized, was enough for now.

After all of the chaos that had occurred, they decided on something quiet for dinner, with all of them settling on a cozy but upscale Italian restaurant in Midtown Manhattan. The warm lighting and rustic decor provided the perfect setting to wind down after the energetic evening.

Serena, still dressed casually in a cream sweater and dark jeans, sat next to Steve at the long table. Nick and Alison took their spots across from them, with Felicita seated at the head. The restaurant buzzed with a gentle hum of conversation, but their table carried its own lively energy.

As they waited for their food, Serena checked her phone, smiling as the comments continued pouring in on her engagement post.

Nick, seated across from her, leaned forward with a knowing smirk. "I saw Lewis commented too. Guess you're still Mercedes royalty, huh?"

Serena laughed softly, nudging Steve's arm. "Lewis and I are like siblings at this point. He's always been supportive."

Alison raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. "And Nico? Or Jenson? Or Paul? They seemed pretty supportive too."

Felicita, sipping her wine, interjected with her usual sharp tone. "Nico was the only one of them I could tolerate for more than five minutes. He was respectful, intelligent, and your father adored him."

"That's true," Nick added, his expression softening. "Dad let Nico come on the St. Moritz trip. That's not something he did for anyone else."

Serena smiled wistfully, the mention of their father briefly pulling her into the past. "Nico fit in well with Dad's world. We were together for 3 years, but it just... wasn't meant to last. It wasn't anything bad; we just grew apart."

Steve listened quietly, his hand resting on Serena's. "Your dad really liked him?"

Serena nodded. "Dad didn't show his approval often, but he was different with Nico. He respected his discipline and focus—two things he valued above everything else."

Nick grinned, pulling out his phone. "Speaking of Lewis, check this out." He slid the phone across the table, showing a video of Serena and Lewis dancing at a party in Brazil. The pair moved effortlessly, their energy infectious as they laughed and cheered each other on.

Steve raised an eyebrow, glancing at Serena. "You didn't tell me you had moves like that."

She shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "It's Brazil. Everyone dances in Brazil."

Alison chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, I remember that trip. Lewis and Serena stole the show. But to be fair, Jenson wasn't half-bad on the dance floor either."

"Jenson..." Felicita's tone turned thoughtful, her sharp gaze flicking to Serena. "He was charming, I'll give him that. But too charming for his own good."

Serena rolled her eyes, laughing. "He wasn't that bad, Mom."

Alison snorted. "He flirted with the waitress the first time we all had dinner together. Right in front of you!"

Nick shook his head, smirking. "And Paul? He was the serious, Scottish one, right? A bit dry, but decent enough."

Felicita's lips pressed into a thin line. "Decent is being generous. He lacked any spark. Serena, I don't know what you saw in him."

"It wasn't that deep, Mom," Serena replied with a chuckle. "We only dated for 6 months."

Steve, still holding Serena's hand, glanced at her with a soft smile. "You've had quite the history with Formula 1, haven't you?"

"Comes with the territory," she said with a shrug. "Lewis introduced me to everyone, after I started dating Jenson, back when Lewis was with Mclaren. In between Jenson and Nico was when I dated Paul, but even then, Lewis acted like my brother, and after I broke up with Nico, Lewis and I stayed friends. Nico and I are still cordial though, we talk every once in a while...I guess after dating someone that long we were bound to still be friends, and I'm glad we are. Lewis and my friendship has gotten worse over the years, and it's one of the reasons why I could give you and Sam that Mercedes garage tour in Monaco."

Nick's expression shifted, a hint of fondness in his tone. "That tour was incredible. But I remember you and Lewis bickering over something ridiculous the whole time. What was it again?"

Serena laughed. "Whether the W06's livery looked better in silver or black. Obviously, I was right—it looked better in black."

Nick rolled his eyes. "You two were like siblings even back then."

As the food arrived, Nick turned the conversation in a new direction. "So, I've got news."

Serena raised an eyebrow, mid-bite. "Oh?"

"I'm moving back to the States," Nick announced, his tone light but firm. "No more jumping between Africa and Europe. It's time to settle down for a bit, especially with Alison wanting to focus on her design work here."

Alison nodded, her expression warm. "It's time. We've been on the move for so long, but this feels right."

Serena's smile grew, a mix of relief and excitement. "Finally! It'll be so good to have you close again."

"That makes two of us," Felicita said, her tone softening. "I've missed having you around."

Nick shrugged, though his smile was genuine. "I've missed being around too. And it's not like I'm retiring—I'll still be involved remotely."

Steve glanced between the siblings, noting the easy camaraderie. "Sounds like you've got a lot to look forward to."

Nick grinned. "Definitely. But first, we've got to survive all the fallout from Sokovia. You guys are dealing with a lot right now, huh?"

Steve's expression darkened slightly. "Yeah. A lot of governments are calling for action after what happened. They want oversight—accountability for the destruction."

"Classic politicians," Nick muttered. "They only see the wreckage, not the lives you saved."

Serena's hand tightened slightly around Steve's. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Dinner had been lively, filled with stories, laughter, and teasing, but just as they were about to dive into dessert, Serena's phone buzzed on the table.

She glanced down and saw the familiar name and grinning emoji: Lewis Hamilton.

"It's Lewis," Serena said with a smile, picking up the phone. She tapped the screen to answer the FaceTime call, and Lewis's face appeared, his trademark grin lighting up the screen. He was sitting in what looked like his hotel room, dressed in a casual T-shirt and chain, along with a Mercedes hat on his head.

"Hey, Lady!" Lewis greeted, his British accent warm and teasing. "So, this is what it takes to hear from you nowadays? Getting engaged?"

Serena rolled her eyes but smiled. "You commented on my Instagram, you goof. But thanks for calling."

Lewis leaned closer to the camera, his grin widening. "Well, this is big news! I had to call. Congratulations, S! And Captain Rogers," he added, addressing Steve, "good choice, mate. She's one of a kind."

Steve leaned into the frame slightly, his easy smile matching Lewis's. "Thanks, Lewis. And don't worry—I know exactly how lucky I am."

"Damn right you do," Nick chimed in from across the table, earning a laugh from everyone.

"Oi, Nick!" Lewis said, squinting at the camera. "Still causing trouble, are we?"

"Always," Nick replied, smirking. "Speaking of trouble, Steve, did Serena ever tell you about the time she and Lewis turned the paddock upside down during the Monaco GP a few years ago?"

"Oh, don't start," Serena groaned, though she couldn't hide her laughter.

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I don't think I've heard this one."

Nick grinned mischievously. "So, picture this: it's the night before qualifying. Serena and Lewis decide to sneak into the hospitality area, steal a bunch of snacks, and then race electric scooters down the pit lane at two in the morning. Security was chasing them like they were running a heist."

Lewis laughed, throwing his head back. "That was epic! And for the record, I won that race."

"You only won because I let you," Serena shot back, shaking her head. "I didn't want to humiliate you in front of your team."

"Sure, sure," Lewis teased, rolling his eyes. "Let's not forget who got us out of trouble with Toto."

"Yeah, only because you're the golden boy," Serena retorted, laughing.

Steve shook his head, chuckling. "I can't imagine the chaos you two must've caused. It's a wonder they didn't ban you from the paddock."

Nick snorted. "Ban Serena? Not likely. The Pierces have had their hands in Formula 1 for years. There's no way they'd keep her out."

Lewis nodded knowingly. "She's right at home in the paddock. Always has been."

He leaned closer to the screen. "Anyway, S, are you 100% coming to Silverstone? I need to know, so Nicole and I can book dinner with you and Steve."

"I'm planning on it," Serena said, glancing at Steve for confirmation. "Right, honey?"

Steve nodded. "If she's going, I'm going."

"Perfect!" Lewis said. "Nicole will be thrilled. It's been too long since we all hung out. And, Rogers, I owe you a rematch at pool. Monaco wasn't your best showing."

Steve chuckled. "I'll be ready this time."

The conversation wound down after a few more playful jabs and congratulations. Before hanging up, Lewis gave a parting smile. "Congrats again, S. You two are going to be great."

"Thanks, Lewis," Serena said warmly. "And I'll see you at Silverstone."

"Later, troublemaker," Lewis teased, ending the call.

As Serena set her phone down, Nick leaned over to Steve, his grin still firmly in place. "So, Rogers, how does it feel knowing you're marrying someone who's tangled in F1 drama and has Lewis Hamilton on speed dial?"

Steve laughed, wrapping an arm around Serena's shoulders. "Honestly? It just makes her even more interesting."

Serena rolled her eyes. "You two are impossible."

"Maybe," Nick said, raising his glass. "But we wouldn't have you any other way."

The laughter at the table slowly quieted as Nick raised his glass, a grin lighting up his face. "Here's to you, Serena. A whirlwind of chaos wrapped in elegance. But we wouldn't have you any other way."

The clink of glasses rang out, and Serena smiled softly, the warmth of her family's affection grounding her. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to relax, savoring the rare peace that settled over the cozy restaurant.

Her phone buzzed against the polished wood of the table, drawing her attention. She glanced down at the notification and felt the smile slip from her face.

"Opinion: The Avengers Need Oversight After Sokovia"
"At What Cost Are They Saving the World?"

The headline was accompanied by an image of Sokovia in ruins, smoke billowing into the sky with a Helicarrier hovering ominously in the background. Serena's stomach tightened as she opened the article, her eyes scanning the critical words.

Felicita, seated at the head of the table, noticed the subtle shift in Serena's expression. "Something wrong?" she asked, her tone sharp but concerned.

Serena hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen. "It's... a news article." She glanced at Nick, then at Steve, who was watching her closely. Finally, she slid the phone across the table for everyone to see.

Nick frowned as he read the article, his jaw tightening. "Of course. Blame the people who saved the world instead of the lunatic who tried to destroy it."

Steve leaned closer, his expression calm but serious. "What's it say?"

Serena sighed. "It's the same as always. They're talking about oversight—how the Avengers need to be controlled. They're blaming us for Sokovia, New York, D.C. Everything."

Nick scoffed, pushing the phone back toward her. "People love to point fingers. It's easier than admitting the world is messy and dangerous."

Alison, seated beside him, nodded. "And it's not like they were in Sokovia. They didn't see what you went through to save those people."

Serena set her jaw, her voice taut with frustration. "It's not just Sokovia. They're dragging up D.C. too—the Triskelion. People still think Fury told me to kill my father that day." Her voice wavered slightly, but she pressed on. "They don't know the whole story, and they don't care to."

Felicita stiffened at the mention of Alexander Pierce, her wine glass halting mid-air. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes softened slightly as she glanced at Serena. "You did what you had to do."

Serena leaned back, crossing her arms. "I know I did. But that doesn't make it any easier. That day—when the Triskelion fell—it wasn't just about saving lives. It was about ending Hydra for good. And that meant..."

Her voice trailed off, and Steve reached for her hand, his thumb brushing soothing circles over her knuckles. "You don't have to explain," he said softly.

"No, I do." She met his gaze, her green eyes fierce. "Because people don't understand. They think it was an easy call, that Fury ordered me to pull the trigger. But he didn't. It was my decision, and I'll carry that for the rest of my life."

Nick's voice broke through the heavy silence, his tone grim. "And it wasn't just about him, was it? We were all on the list for Project Insight. You, me, Mom..." He shook his head, his frustration evident. "Dad knew. He knew we were targets."

Serena nodded, her voice tight. "Project Insight wasn't just about eliminating threats—it was about control. And we were threats because we wouldn't have let it happen. Because we would've fought back."

Felicita set her glass down with a decisive clink, her expression steely. "Alexander's loyalty to Hydra destroyed everything. He betrayed his family, his principles—everything he claimed to stand for. And when it came down to it, he chose Hydra over us."

Serena's hands curled into fists, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "I didn't just lose my father that day. I lost the man I thought he was. And now, every time the Avengers are blamed for doing their jobs, it feels like... like I'm being dragged back to that moment. To that choice."

Steve's voice was gentle but firm. "You made that choice to save lives. To stop something that could've killed millions."

"And yet people still think we're the villains," Serena said bitterly. "Every time we stop something catastrophic, there's a new headline about the cost. As if we aren't aware of the cost. As if we don't feel it every damn day."

Nick leaned forward, his expression fierce. "You're not the villain, Serena. None of you are. You saved the world—multiple times. And yeah, it came at a cost, but what was the alternative? Letting Ultron win? Letting Hydra take over?"

Felicita's gaze softened as she looked at her daughter. "Your father made his choices, Serena. But you made yours too. And you chose to protect people, even when it meant sacrificing part of yourself. That's something to be proud of."

Serena blinked, her throat tightening as she nodded. "I know. It's just... hard."

Alison reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on Serena's arm. "Of course it is. But you're not alone. You've got Steve, Nick, all of us. We see the truth, even if the rest of the world doesn't."

Steve squeezed Serena's hand, his blue eyes unwavering. "You're not alone. And we'll keep fighting—for the people we save, and for ourselves. Because that's what we do."

Serena exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks. I needed that."

Nick raised his glass again, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "To the Avengers: doing the impossible and getting blamed for it anyway."

The table chuckled softly, the tension easing as they clinked glasses once more. Serena glanced at Steve, her heart swelling with gratitude. No matter what the world thought, she knew she had her family—and that was enough to keep fighting.

But everything still felt new and raw. 

The article felt like a wake up call.

Yes, the Avengers were good, and have helped so many people...but what people tend to forget is how many people suffered from their actions.

As the discussion at the dinner table wound down, Nick glanced at Serena, still noting the tension lingering in her eyes. Her expression was softer now, thanks to the words of support from everyone around her, but he could tell she was still overthinking.

As the evening wound down, the conversation in the private dining room became lighter and more relaxed, with stories of the past and playful jabs flying across the table. Serena laughed along with everyone, but as the moments stretched on, she found herself growing quieter, her thoughts drifting.

Steve noticed the change in her demeanor, his sharp eyes catching the slight tension in her shoulders. He gently rested a hand on her back, leaning in to whisper, "You okay?"

Serena smiled softly, giving a small nod. "Yeah. Just... tired."

Steve didn't press her, but he stayed close, offering silent reassurance.

The group finished dessert, and after hugs, handshakes, and promises to see each other soon, they began to head out. Serena and Steve lingered a bit longer, waiting for Nick and Alison as they spoke with Felicita near the entrance. The quiet hum of the restaurant seemed to amplify Serena's racing thoughts, and she gazed out of the window into the dark streets of Manhattan, her reflection faint against the glass.

As Steve wrapped her coat around her shoulders, her voice broke the silence between them, soft but tinged with unease. "Do you ever wonder if we've done more harm than good?"

Steve hesitated, his hands lingering on her shoulders. "What do you mean?"

She didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on the streetlights beyond the window. "Everywhere we go, destruction follows. Sokovia... D.C.... New York. How many lives did we save? And how many did we ruin without meaning to?"

Steve frowned, stepping beside her. "Serena—"

"I can't stop thinking about the families," she continued, her voice quiet but steady. "The people who lost everything because we were trying to save them. It doesn't feel like enough, Steve. No matter how hard we try, the cost is always so high."

Steve sighed, his expression contemplative. "You know, I think about it too. Every day. It's the weight we carry because we can't afford not to."

She looked at him now, her green eyes shadowed with doubt. "But what if we're wrong? What if it's not worth it? What if we're just... creating more chaos, more pain?"

Steve placed a hand on the window frame, his voice low but firm. "We make mistakes, Serena. We can't deny that. But we also stop things from getting worse. Without us, Sokovia wouldn't just be rubble—it would've been the end. It's not perfect, but it's the best we can do."

She nodded slowly, though the unease didn't leave her. "I just... I don't know if it's enough anymore."

Nick and Alison approached, their laughter cutting through the quiet moment. Nick grinned, oblivious to the weight of their conversation. "Ready to head out?"

Serena managed a small smile, nodding. "Yeah, let's go."

As they stepped out into the chilly night air, Steve kept a protective arm around her. The streets of New York bustled with life, a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts weighing on her mind. Despite the laughter and warmth of her family around her, Serena couldn't shake the lingering doubt that nestled deep in her chest.

She glanced at Steve, his steadfast presence beside her a source of comfort. But even his unwavering optimism couldn't quiet the nagging question that looped in her mind: At what point do the costs outweigh the victories?

For now, though, she pushed the thought aside, tucking it away into the corners of her mind as they walked toward the waiting car. Tonight, she could pretend, if only for a little while, that the world didn't rest on her shoulders. But she knew it wouldn't stay away for long.

Notes:

We are finally done with Avengers: Age of Ultron, next will be like an intermission, showing the events leading up to Captain America: Civil War. Fill free to comment!

Chapter 31: Chapter 31

2 Months Later

The training facility in the Avengers' new upstate compound was alive with energy. The sound of punches hitting pads, the clatter of training weapons, and the steady rhythm of running feet echoed through the sleek space. Serena, Steve, and Natasha worked in tandem, overseeing the development of the new team.

Serena stood by the edge of the sparring mat, her arms crossed as she watched Wanda and Sam running combat drills. "Wanda, watch your footing on the turn," she called out. "You're leaving your left side open."

Wanda nodded, adjusting her stance. Across from her, Sam smirked. "Gotta love a backseat fighter."

"Careful, Wilson," Serena replied with a raised eyebrow. "Next drill, you're sparring with me."

Natasha, leaning against the far wall, chuckled. "He's asking for it."

Nearby, Steve was demonstrating a takedown maneuver with Rhodey. The two moved with precision, their focus unshakable. But even as Serena kept her attention on the training, her phone buzzed in her pocket, reminding her of the other half of her responsibilities. Later that afternoon, Serena sat in her corner office at the compound, her desk cluttered with reports, briefings, and her laptop. She was wearing a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, her CIA liaison badge clipped to her belt. The monitor displayed a video call in progress, her mother, Felicita de Fontaine Pierce, on the other end. Felicita's sharp, professional demeanor was palpable even through the screen.

"I understand what the Avengers did," Felicita said, her voice cool but firm. "But the global community needs answers. Sokovia didn't just happen in a vacuum, Serena."

Serena leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mom, do you think we're not already analyzing what happened? Everyone is trying to figure out what went wrong and what we could have done differently. But turning this into some kind of political spectacle isn't going to help anyone."

Felicita's expression hardened. "The CIA isn't concerned with spectacle. We're trying to mitigate the fallout. The Sokovia Accords are being drafted as we speak. If we don't have data, context—"

"Context?" Serena interrupted, her voice rising. "I was there, Mom. Sokovia wasn't a policy failure or a lack of oversight. It was Ultron. A monster we didn't create but had to stop. And in the process, we saved thousands of lives."

Felicita's lips thinned. "I know that, Serena. But the world doesn't. And the longer we wait to get ahead of this, the more damage control we'll need later."

Serena stood abruptly, pacing the room. "You don't think I understand that? Every day, I relive the decisions we made. Every drone we didn't stop, every life we couldn't save. And now the CIA is treating it like some kind of crime scene to be dissected? You weren't on the Triskelion when I had to—"

She broke off, swallowing hard, her fists clenched.

Felicita softened slightly, her tone losing some of its edge. "Serena, I know what you're carrying. You, Nick, and I... we were all on that list. I know how close it came. But the world doesn't care about our pain. They want accountability. And whether we like it or not, we're part of that process."

Serena's jaw tightened, her green eyes flashing with frustration. "People still think Fury told me to kill Dad," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They think I just... followed orders, like I didn't have to make that choice myself."

Felicita's expression faltered, but before she could respond, Serena cut the call. She leaned heavily against her desk, her breath uneven.

Steve stood in the hallway, Molly's leash in hand. The golden retriever wagged her tail, sensing Steve's quiet concern as he stared at the closed office door. He had overheard enough to know Serena was struggling, but he didn't want to push her.

"Alright, girl," Steve said softly, giving Molly a gentle pat. "Let's see if we can help her out."

The office door creaked open, and Serena glanced up to see Molly trotting in, her tail wagging furiously. Steve followed, a cautious but warm smile on his face.

"Thought you could use a break," Steve said, holding up a thermos. "Hot chocolate. With those marshmallows you like."

Serena's tense posture eased slightly as Molly nuzzled her hand. She dropped into her chair, scratching behind the dog's ears. "You eavesdropping, Rogers?"

"Not intentionally," he replied, setting the thermos on her desk. "But you weren't exactly quiet."

She sighed, resting her head in her hands. "It's just... Mom's right, in a way. But it doesn't make it easier to hear."

Steve pulled up a chair, sitting across from her. "You made the call you had to. No one else knows what it's like to carry that weight. And no one else could've done what you did."

Her eyes met his, tired but grateful. "Thanks, Steve."

He nodded, his hand resting lightly on hers. "Come on. Let's take Molly for a walk. Clear your head."

Serena hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Alright. But only because Molly asked nicely."

As the three of them walked out into the crisp afternoon air, the compound's grounds stretched out before them, serene and quiet—a stark contrast to the chaos of Sokovia or the Triskelion. Serena squeezed Steve's hand as they walked, the warmth of his presence steadying her.

She wasn't okay. Not completely. But with him, she felt like maybe, one day, she could be. The late afternoon sun was dipping below the horizon as Steve, Serena, and Molly finished their walk around the compound grounds. The crisp autumn air carried the faint scent of fallen leaves, and Molly trotted happily beside them, her leash slack in Steve's hand.

As they approached the main building, Sam and Rhodey emerged, deep in conversation about the upcoming team meeting. Spotting Steve, they veered toward him.

"Hey, Cap," Sam called. "Quick question—what's the plan for tonight's meeting?"

Steve glanced at Serena, who was rubbing Molly's ears absently. "It's canceled," he said decisively, looking back at Sam and Rhodey. "Something came up."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Alright. Guess I'll just be stuck hearing Rhodey's latest war stories."

Rhodey smirked. "They're classics for a reason, Wilson."

Steve chuckled, giving them a nod as they walked off. He turned to Serena, who was staring down at Molly, her expression distant.

"How about we head into the city?" Steve asked, his tone gentle.

She looked up, surprised. "Into the city?"

"Yeah," he said, slipping his free hand into hers. "We'll grab dinner. Something different. How do you feel about sushi?"

Serena hesitated, then gave a small smile. "Sushi sounds good."

The sushi restaurant was a cozy, modern spot nestled in a quiet corner of Manhattan. Warm wood paneling and soft lighting created an intimate atmosphere. Steve and Serena sat at a table near the back, their conversation flowing easily as they sampled sashimi and rolls.

"This is better than I expected," Steve admitted, picking up a piece of salmon nigiri with his chopsticks.

Serena grinned. "I told you. Sushi's not all raw fish."

He chuckled, gesturing to the platter. "Still not sure about that sea urchin."

"That's fair," she said, taking a sip of her green tea. "It's an acquired taste."

As the evening wore on, their conversation turned to the future. Steve leaned back slightly, his blue eyes studying her.

"I've been thinking," he began, his tone careful. "About what's next for us."

Serena raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going. "What's on your mind?"

Steve hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. "I know the compound is great for now. It's secure, it's got everything we need. But when we get married... I don't think I want to raise a family there."

Her chopsticks paused mid-air. "Steve..."

He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. "I'm not saying we need to move tomorrow. But I've been thinking about finding a place of our own. A real home. Somewhere quieter, more permanent."

Serena looked down at their hands, her mind racing. "You brought this up before," she said quietly. "Back at the Tower."

"I did," he admitted. "And it turned into an argument."

"Because I didn't want to leave," she murmured, her gaze distant. "The Tower felt... safe. Familiar."

"And now?" he asked gently.

She sighed, meeting his eyes. "Now, I don't know. After everything that's happened—with Sokovia, the fallout, the team—I don't know if I'm ready to let go of that safety net."

Steve squeezed her hand. "I get that. But think about it, Serena. A place that's just ours. No missions, no team meetings, no constant reminders of everything we're fighting against. Just us."

Her expression softened slightly. "It does sound nice," she admitted. "But it also feels... far away. Like something for another lifetime."

Steve smiled faintly. "Maybe. But I think we deserve to start thinking about it."

Serena nodded slowly, her mind still turning over his words.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air hit them. Serena pulled her coat tighter around her, her arm linked with Steve's as they strolled toward the car. The peaceful moment was shattered when a group of reporters appeared from the shadows, cameras flashing.

"Captain Rogers! Miss Pierce!" one called, their voice cutting through the night. "What's your response to the growing sentiment that the Avengers have done more harm than good?"

Serena froze, her breath catching as the reporter's words echoed in her ears. The scene before her blurred, replaced by a memory she had tried to bury. The Capitol steps were crowded with reporters, their voices loud and insistent as Serena exited the building. She was flanked by security, her mother's voice urging her to keep moving. Cameras flashed, microphones were thrust toward her, and questions pelted her like bullets.

"Why did you kill your father, Miss Pierce?"

"Did Director Fury order the hit?"

"Do you regret your actions?"

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She couldn't answer. Couldn't even think. "Serena?" Steve's voice pulled her back to the present. His hand was on her shoulder, grounding her.

"I..." She blinked, trying to steady herself. "I need to go. Let's go."

Steve shielded her from the reporters, his arm protective around her as they made their way to the car. Once inside, Serena stared straight ahead, her breathing shallow.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I can't breathe," she whispered, gripping the door handle.

"Serena?" His worry deepened. "What's wrong?"

"Pull over," she said urgently. "Steve, I can't breathe. Pull over!"

He immediately steered the car to the side of the road, cutting the engine. Serena fumbled with the door, stepping out into the crisp night air and leaning against the car, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts.

Steve was at her side in an instant, his hands gently rubbing her arms. "Hey, hey. Look at me. Breathe with me, okay? In... and out."

She tried to follow his lead, her chest heaving as she fought to regain control. Slowly, her breathing began to even out, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

Steve stayed close, his voice calm and steady. "You're okay. I'm here."

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I just... they sounded like them. The reporters from Capitol Hill."

Steve frowned, his hand resting against her cheek. "You don't have to explain. I know what you've been through. But you're not alone, Serena. You never will be."

She nodded, her head resting against his chest as she closed her eyes. The sound of his heartbeat steadied her, grounding her in the present.

"I don't know how you do it," she murmured after a long moment.

"Do what?" he asked softly.

"Stay so strong," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed the top of her head. "Because I have you. And together, we're stronger than anything they throw at us."

For the rest of the drive back to the compound, Serena leaned against him, her hand in his, holding onto the strength he offered. She didn't know what the future held, but in that moment, she knew she wouldn't face it alone. As the car idled in the compound driveway, Serena leaned her head back against the seat, her eyes closed, the tension from the night still etched into her features. Steve glanced at her, pulling his phone from his pocket and quickly typing out a message to Nick.

Steve: She's had a rough night. Any chance you've got something to make her laugh?

Nick's response came almost immediately.

Nick: Oh, I've got just the thing. Check your inbox.

Steve downloaded the video attachment, a grin tugging at his lips as the preview image loaded. He turned to Serena, gently tapping her arm. "I think you need to see this."

She opened her eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. "What did Nick send this time?"

"Something to make you laugh," Steve said, handing her the phone.

Serena took it, her expression skeptical, and pressed play.

The video opened with a chaotic scene in Felicita's elegant living room. The space was an eclectic mix of antique furnishings and modern accents, the kind of setting where everything screamed sophistication—except for what was happening in the center of the room.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, visibly tipsy, was clutching a microphone, standing in front of an impromptu karaoke setup. Her sequined blazer shimmered under the soft light, her hair slightly disheveled, and her martini glass teetered dangerously on the coffee table beside her.

"You all ready for this?" Val slurred dramatically, pointing to the small group gathered around her. "Because I'm about to make this my night."

The camera panned to Felicita, seated on the pristine white couch, her arms crossed tightly. She looked equal parts annoyed and resigned, her sharp gaze fixed on her sister. "Val, must you always be the center of attention?"

"It's called karaoke, Felicita!" Val shot back, waving the microphone theatrically. "Lighten up! Besides, it's my stage now."

The camera shifted again, catching Serena—dressed casually in a sweater and jeans—sitting on the floor, laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. Next to her, Lewis (who had been involved with the Pierce's long enough that he was essentially another son to Felicita), was seated in a plush armchair, his face red from stifling his own laughter. He waved his phone in the air, pretending to record Val's every dramatic move.

"Sing it, Val!" Lewis shouted, his voice dripping with exaggerated encouragement.

"Lewis, stop encouraging her," Felicita snapped, shooting him a withering look. "Put the phone down."

"Mom!" Lewis protested, still waving the phone. "This is golden!"

The camera panned once more, capturing Everett Ross sitting awkwardly in a corner, nursing a scotch and wearing an expression that screamed, Why am I here? He raised his glass in a weak attempt to toast, only for Val to point the microphone at him.

"Everett!" she declared. "You, my dear ex-husband, were the biggest mistake of my life!"

"Noted," Everett replied dryly, taking a long sip of his drink.

The camera refocused on Val, who struck a dramatic pose as the opening notes of I Will Survive began to play. She belted out the first line with gusto—though wildly off-key.

"First I was afraid, I was petrified!"

She stumbled slightly but caught herself, throwing an arm out as if delivering a Shakespearean monologue. The camera caught Felicita rubbing her temples in exasperation, muttering under her breath, "How am I related to her?"

Lewis, meanwhile, was fully committed to hyping Val up. He stood, waving his arms in the air like a conductor. "Yes, Val! You've got this!"

"Sit down, Lewis!" Felicita hissed. "You're making it worse."

Everett chuckled into his drink. "He's not wrong, though. She's got something."

Val, completely oblivious to the chaos, launched into the chorus with all the energy of a seasoned diva. "I WILL SURVIVE!"

As she hit the high note, Lewis dramatically mimed along, lip-syncing with an exaggerated expression that sent Serena into another fit of uncontrollable laughter. She clutched her sides, tears streaming down her face, while Lewis struck a triumphant pose.

"Lewis, I swear—" Felicita began, but her voice was drowned out by Val's continued theatrics.

"Put the goddamn phone away!" Valentina barked mid-verse, glaring at Lewis. "This is not a concert!"

"Could've fooled me!" Everett muttered, earning a sharp glare from Felicita.

The video ended with Val attempting a mic drop—but missing the table completely, sending the microphone clattering to the floor. The camera wobbled as whoever was recording (presumably Nick) dissolved into laughter, the screen cutting out with a final shot of Felicita throwing up her hands in defeat.

As the video ended, Serena was already laughing so hard that Molly barked from the backseat, her tail wagging furiously. She handed the phone back to Steve, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Nick is the worst," she managed between giggles. "How did he even find that?"

"I think he's been saving it for the perfect moment," Steve said, grinning. "And I think it worked."

Serena nodded, still laughing. "I needed that. Val is such a mess."

"She's something else," Steve agreed, chuckling. "And Lewis? He was really in his element."

"Always," Serena said, shaking her head fondly. "He knows exactly how to make a scene—and how to get under Mom's skin."

As they stepped out of the car and headed toward the compound, Serena looped her arm through Steve's. For now, the heaviness from earlier had lifted, replaced by the warmth of shared laughter. As Steve held the door open for Serena, his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and chuckled.

Nick: Oh, you thought that was good? Just wait for part two. Sending it now.

He handed the phone back to Serena, who looked at him with playful suspicion. "What now?"

"Nick's doubling down," Steve said with a grin. "Apparently, there's a sequel."

Serena groaned but pressed play anyway, leaning against the counter as the second video began.

The camera opened in Felicita's living room once again, the karaoke machine still glowing ominously in the background. Valentina stood front and center, her blazer now hanging off one shoulder, her hair an even bigger mess, and her martini glass long since abandoned.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Val declared, slurring slightly, "I present to you...my pièce de résistance!" She jabbed a finger at the screen. "Tina Turner has nothing on me."

"Oh, God," Felicita muttered off-camera. She sat stiffly on the couch, her arms crossed in a way that practically screamed, I do not approve of this nonsense. Next to her, Everett had sunk deeper into his chair, his drink now empty.

The opening riff of Proud Mary blared through the speakers. Val swayed dramatically, completely off-beat, before belting out the first line.

"Left a good job in the city!"

Her voice cracked, but she powered through, shaking her head wildly as though channeling Tina herself. The camera panned briefly to Serena, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, one hand over her mouth as she tried—and failed—to stifle her laughter.

"Rolling! Rolling! Rolling on the river!" Val screamed, her arms flailing in exaggerated choreography.

Lewis appeared in the frame again, this time clapping along like an overenthusiastic backup dancer. "Go, Val! You're killing it!"

"LEWIS!" Felicita snapped, turning to glare at him. "Stop encouraging her!"

Lewis grinned wickedly, unbothered by the rebuke. "Come on, Mom, this is legendary!"

The camera wobbled slightly as Nick's laughter grew louder behind the lens. "I can't believe this is happening," he muttered.

The video panned to Felicita, who looked like she wanted to vanish into thin air. "How am I related to her?" she whispered, shaking her head.

"Don't pretend you're above this, Felicita!" Val shot back, mid-spin. She pointed dramatically at her sister, then stumbled slightly but recovered with flair. "You could've joined me! Instead, you're just sitting there like a—"

"A responsible adult?" Felicita interrupted coldly.

Val ignored her, launching into the song's upbeat tempo. "BIG WHEELS KEEP ON TURNIN'!"

The chaos escalated as Val attempted to recreate Tina Turner's iconic dance moves. She spun wildly, her blazer flying off in the process, leaving her in a sequined tank top. Lewis, now fully committed to the bit, grabbed a napkin and waved it like a flag, hyping her up even more.

"Work it, Val!" he yelled.

"Lewis, for the love of God, SIT DOWN," Felicita barked, her composure finally cracking.

"Never!" Lewis shot back, twirling the napkin like a lasso.

The camera caught Everett trying—and failing—to suppress his laughter. "Val," he said, leaning forward with a smirk, "you missed your calling."

"Ha!" Val shouted, pointing at him. "See? Even he gets it!"

Everett raised his empty glass in a mock toast. "To the train wreck that is this performance."

As the song built to its finale, Val spun one last time, ending in what could only be described as a dramatic—and completely unnecessary—split. The camera zoomed in on her triumphant expression as she threw her arms in the air, shouting, "NAILED IT!"

The camera cut briefly to Felicita, whose face was buried in her hands. "I'm surrounded by lunatics," she muttered.

Lewis dropped to his knees, pretending to bow to Val. "All hail the queen!"

Serena was on the floor now, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "This...this is...too much."

Nick's voice came from behind the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Someone get her an agent."

The video ended with Felicita standing abruptly, her voice sharp as she commanded, "Val, get off my rug before you spill something." 

Serena wiped tears from her eyes as the video finished, laughing so hard that Molly barked in confusion, wagging her tail and spinning in excited circles.

"Your family is ridiculous," Steve said, grinning as he watched her struggle to compose herself.

Serena shook her head, still giggling. "This is why we can't have nice things. This is my legacy."

Steve chuckled, pulling her into a gentle hug. "It's a pretty great legacy, if you ask me."

She leaned against him, her laughter fading into a contented sigh. "Remind me to thank Nick later. And maybe disown Val."

Steve kissed the top of her head, his voice soft. "I think you needed that."

"I did," Serena admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "Even if it means reliving Val's chaotic karaoke night."

"Speaking of which," Steve teased, "think we could convince her to do an encore?"

"Absolutely not," Serena said firmly, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her amusement. "Once was more than enough."

As Molly nosed her way between them, wagging her tail, Serena scratched behind the dog's ears and smiled. For the first time in hours, the weight of the world felt a little lighter.

One Month Later

The upstate New York compound was quiet in the early morning, the crisp spring air carrying a faint chill. The world outside was still, the hum of nature the only sound as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the windows of Serena’s bedroom.

A buzzing sound broke the silence.

Serena groaned, reaching blindly for her phone on the nightstand. The brightness of the screen made her squint, but the name 'Nick Pierce' flashed across her notifications, followed by a text.

Nick: Happy Birthday, baby sister. I’d call, but it’s 2 AM in London, and Ali would kill me if I woke her up. Love you.

Before she could respond, another text popped up.

Alison: I wouldn’t actually kill him, but he’d be sleeping on the couch for a week. Happy Birthday, Ser! Love you!

Serena smiled sleepily, typing out a quick response.

Serena: Love you guys. Tell Ali she’s too good for you.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, the contact made her laugh before she even opened the message.

Lewis Hamilton: Happy Birthday, S! Since you’re practically an old lady now, should I start calling you “Auntie Serena”? Or do you prefer “Ma’am”?

Rolling her eyes, she sent back:

Serena: You’re hilarious. But let’s not forget that I’m still younger than you, grandpa.

Not even two seconds later, another text popped up.

Lewis Hamilton: Excuse me, I age like fine wine. You’re the one who hangs out with Captain Popsicle. How does it feel knowing your boyfriend is technically 98?

Before she could type a response, another text arrived.

Aunt Val: Happy Birthday, brat. Try not to let Rogers bake you a cake. I hear the last time he tried, someone almost lost a tooth.

Serena snorted, shaking her head.

Serena: I’ll take my chances.

A softer notification followed, this time a voicemail from her mother. Serena hesitated before pressing play, letting the familiar, refined voice fill the room.

"Buon compleanno, mia cara. I know you don’t like birthdays, but that doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate you in my own way. I hope today brings you happiness, even if only in small moments. I love you, Serena. Call me when you can."

Serena swallowed hard, setting her phone down as she exhaled. Birthdays had never been a big deal to her—not after her childhood, not after everything that happened with her father. But still, hearing her mother’s voice made something in her chest tighten.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of warm lips pressing against her shoulder.

“Morning, birthday girl,” Steve murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

She turned her head slightly to see him, his blond hair a mess, blue eyes still drowsy, but soft with affection.

“You know,” she mused, stretching lazily, “I’m twenty-seven today. Which makes me feel old, but then I remember that you’re technically ninety-eight.”

Steve groaned, flopping onto his back. “Serena.”

She smirked, propping herself up on one elbow. “I mean, we should really talk about that. You were born in 1918, Steve. That means you’re officially seventy-one years older than me.”

Steve covered his face with a pillow. “I regret waking up.”

Laughing, Serena tugged the pillow away. “I’m just saying, maybe I should start calling you ‘sir.’”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do that, and I’m taking back your birthday gift.”

“Oh? And what exactly did you get me, Captain Popsicle?”

Steve grinned, rolling out of bed. “You’ll find out later. But first—birthday breakfast.”

Serena narrowed her eyes. “Did you actually cook it, or is this a team effort so no one dies of food poisoning?”

Steve feigned offense. “I made pancakes.”

Serena’s lips twitched. “...Did Sam help?”

Steve cleared his throat.

“That’s what I thought.”

Later that evening, Serena found herself in a candlelit corner of an upscale but intimate Italian restaurant in Manhattan. Steve had insisted on taking her out for dinner—just the two of them, away from the compound, away from the noise of everything else.

He looked annoyingly perfect, dressed in a dark blue sweater that made his eyes even more ridiculous than usual. Serena, for her part, had opted for an elegant but understated black dress, her dark hair falling in loose waves.

Steve held up his glass. “To twenty-seven.”

Serena clinked her glass against his. “To ninety-eight.”

Steve sighed dramatically. “I walked into that one.”

She smirked, sipping her wine.

After dinner, as they strolled along the quieter streets, Steve pulled out his phone. “You ready for the world to know it’s your birthday?”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “Steve. You know I hate—”

Too late. He had already snapped a picture of the two of them, her head leaning against his shoulder, both of them smiling softly.

She groaned. “Steve—”

He grinned, typing out the caption before showing it to her.

Steve Rogers (@captainrogers): Happy Birthday to my best girl. Twenty-seven looks good on you, Ser. <3

“Steve,” Serena said, staring at the post. “You just broke the internet.”

And sure enough, the comments came flooding in.

tonystark: Holy shit, Rogers figured out Instagram. Also, happy birthday, Barbie.

samwilson: Damn, Cap. Now you’ve set the bar too high for all of us. Happy birthday, Ser.

mariahill: MY TWISTED SISTER IS ANOTHER YEAR OLDER! This is a public warning: I am coming to smother you with affection.

natasharomanoff: I give it 30 minutes before Maria tracks you down. Happy birthday, Ser.

lewishamilton: #RelationshipGoals. Happy birthday, Ma’am.

capitals: Happy Birthday, Serena! Can we get you and Captain Rogers on the ice again soon?

Serena groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is my nightmare.”

Steve just laughed.

When they returned to the compound, there was a sleek Cartier box waiting for her on the table in their quaters.

Serena picked it up warily. A note was attached.

“I was an asshole. Happy Birthday. -T”

Inside was a stunning Cartier watch, the back engraved with Steve’s birthday—July 4, 1918.

Serena stared at it for a long moment, her throat tight.

Steve leaned over, reading the engraving. His expression softened. “Tony doesn’t do things halfway, does he?”

Serena exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No, he doesn’t.”

She slipped the watch onto her wrist, the weight of it warm against her skin.

For the first time in a long time, she let herself feel it. The love surrounding her. The people who cared, who stayed, who knew her for everything she was and still chose to celebrate her anyway.

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday, Serena.”

She laced her fingers through his, her heart a little lighter.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “It really is.”

Later that night, after everything he led her to the rooftop of the compound. The air was crisp but not cold, the stars stretched across the sky like scattered diamonds.

Serena wrapped her arms around herself, glancing up at him curiously. “What are we doing up here?”

Steve pulled something small from his pocket but didn’t give it to her just yet. Instead, he took a deep breath, running a thumb over the worn surface. “There’s something I wanted to give you.”

Serena eyed the object in his hand. “You’re not about to propose to me again, are you? Because I swear, if this is some weird—”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “It’s not a ring...you already got one of those out of me.”

She smirked. “Alright. Carry on, Captain.”

Steve hesitated for just a second before he handed it to her. It was small, round, and unmistakable. Serena recognized it instantly.

“Steve,” she murmured, fingers ghosting over the metal surface of the old military compass.

She carefully flipped it open.

Where there was once a picture of Peggy Carter, there was now a different photo—one of her and Steve. It was an older picture, taken back at the Tower before Ultron, before Sokovia. She was laughing at something off-camera, her hand resting on Steve’s arm. He was looking at her, that quiet, steady fondness written all over his face.

Serena swallowed hard. “You changed it.”

Steve nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Wanda showed me something. Back when Ultron was tearing everything apart. It was a vision—of a life that never happened. Peggy was there. You were there.”

Serena glanced up at him, searching his face. “What did I say?”

He exhaled slowly. “You told me, ‘I gave up everything for you.’”

The words hung between them, heavier than the night sky.

Serena brushed her thumb over the edge of the compass. “Steve—”

“I know I can never repay you for that,” he said quietly. “For everything you’ve given up, everything you’ve carried. But I do know this—wherever I go, I will always find my way back to you. You’re my constant. My true north.”

Serena stared at him, her heart in her throat. After a long moment, she exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You know what’s funny?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She met his gaze, her voice soft but certain. “I don’t feel like I gave up everything for you. I gave up the things that weighed me down. The things that hurt me, that kept me from being who I was supposed to be.” She looked down at the compass, then back up at him, a small, sincere smile playing on her lips. “If anything, I gained more than I ever lost.”

Steve’s breath hitched slightly, his chest tightening at her words.

Serena smirked then, closing the compass and slipping it into her pocket. “That being said, you’re still a sentimental sap.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

He reached for her then, pulling her in. Serena let herself sink into him, her arms wrapping around his waist as he kissed the top of her head.

“I do,” he murmured. “I really do.”

Two Weeks Later

Two weeks had passed since Serena’s birthday, and in that time, she had done something she had been debating for a while. She’d dyed her hair honey blonde.

It had been an impulsive decision, one she had thought about for years but never acted on. One afternoon, after a particularly long day at the compound, she had walked into a salon in Manhattan and simply said, “I want a change.”

The moment she stepped back into their shared apartment that evening, Steve’s reaction had been immediate.

Serena had barely made it through the door when Steve turned, his blue eyes locking onto her, widening slightly as his brows lifted. He blinked once, twice, as if making sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Ser?” His voice was soft, like he wasn’t sure if he should ask.

She smirked, setting her bag down. “You don’t like it?”

Steve took a step closer, studying her like she was a painting he hadn’t quite figured out yet. Finally, he reached out, gently tucking a strand of golden blonde behind her ear.

“I love it,” he said, voice low, reverent.

Serena bit her lip. “Yeah?”

Steve let his fingers trail lightly through her hair, his expression one of quiet awe. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You look… stunning.”

She huffed out a laugh, trying to act nonchalant, but the warmth in his gaze made her stomach flip. “Good,” she teased. “Because there’s no going back.”

Steve grinned, his hands settling on her waist. “No complaints from me, honey.”

And just like that, she felt all her nerves disappear.

But tonight? Tonight, all of those nerves came back tenfold.

The Met Gala was one of the biggest nights in fashion and celebrity culture, and Serena had never been to one.

This, despite her family’s wealth, despite knowing countless people who had attended, despite growing up around high society.

She had always avoided the spotlight.

But tonight, that wasn’t an option.

Dressed in an emerald green gown—elegant, sleek, with a slight train that pooled around her feet—Serena stood before the mirror in their hotel suite at The Plaza, her stomach twisting into knots.

The gown was a perfect complement to her engagement ring, which rested on her left hand, sparkling under the soft lighting of the room. Her newly blonde hair was styled into soft waves, framing her face, her makeup polished but subtle.

And yet, she couldn’t shake the anxiety building in her chest.

Steve, dressed in a sharp black tux, stood behind her, watching her expression shift in the mirror.

“You’re spiraling,” he noted.

Serena let out a breath, adjusting one of her earrings. “No, I’m not.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Ser.”

She sighed, finally turning to face him. “Steve, I just… I’m not used to this. The cameras. The attention. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding the public eye, and now I’m about to walk up those steps and have a million cameras going off in my face.”

Steve took a step closer, reaching for her hands. “I know,” he said gently. “But you’re not doing this alone. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

Serena chewed on her lip, her nerves still not quite settled.

Steve squeezed her hands. “Just another mission, Ser.”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “That’s not how this works.”

He smirked. “Sure, it is. There’s a plan, an entrance, and a clear objective: survive the night and not let Tony Stark get us into trouble.”

She rolled her eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

Steve cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Because it is. And you’re gonna be amazing.”

Serena exhaled, closing her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice soft. “Let’s go, honey.”

The moment their car pulled up to the Met Gala entrance, Serena’s heart jumped into her throat.

Cameras. 

Everywhere.

Flashes went off in rapid succession, the noise of the crowd buzzing like static in her ears.

Serena tensed instinctively, her nails digging into Steve’s hand as he helped her out of the car.

Before she could spiral again, Steve leaned in, his voice low, steady, warm against her ear.

“Just another mission.”

Serena let out a slow breath, gripping his hand tighter.

Then they stepped forward.

The moment they hit the steps, the internet broke.

As they made their way inside, Steve was pulled aside by a reporter.

“Captain Rogers,” the reporter began, his tone polite but firm. “The United Nations is meeting soon to devise a ‘new plan’ for handling ‘Avengers-level threats.’ Any thoughts on how that might affect your team?”

Steve stiffened ever so slightly. “I think the Avengers have always worked to protect people. That’s never changed, and it won’t.”

Serena, who had been standing nearby, felt her stomach twist uncomfortably.

‘Avengers-level threats.’

That meant them.

Before she could get too in her head, a familiar voice cut through her anxiety.

“Oi! Blondie!”

Serena turned and immediately relaxed.

Lewis.

"Oh thank God." She murmured to herself, no sooner she laid her eyes on Lewis.

He strode over, dressed in a flawless custom suit, grinning as he pulled her into a familiar hug.

“Damn, S,” he said, pulling back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress like this.”

Serena smirked. “Well, it’s the Met Gala, after all.”

Lewis grinned at Steve. “How’s it feel, Cap? Walking the steps with an actual goddess?”

Steve chuckled. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s keep it together, gentlemen.”

Not far off, Tony and Pepper were making their own entrance.

The moment Tony spotted Serena, he wasted no time.

“Well, well, well,” Tony drawled, strolling up to them. “If it isn’t Barbie and her Star-Spangled fiancé Ken.”

Steve sighed. “Tony.”

Pepper, ever the composed one, shot her boyfriend a look. “Tony.”

Tony ignored her. “Pierce, I gotta admit, green is your color. You look like money...which is fitting considering you grew up rich.”

“Considering you’re literally a billionaire, I’m gonna assume that’s a compliment,” Serena deadpanned.

Tony smirked. “Take it however you want, Blondie.”

Serena groaned. “First Lewis, now you. I should’ve stayed brunette.”

Steve just smiled, enjoying the chaos.

Hours later, as the event wound down, one particular photo of Steve and Serena went viral.

The image showed them on the Met steps, Serena looking stunning in her emerald gown, Steve every bit the golden age movie star in his tux. His hand rested gently on the small of her back, their chemistry undeniable.

Social Media Exploded.

lewishamilton: A moment. An icon. Also, Steve, you clean up well.

capitals: Can we talk about how good our girl looks? Serena, we see you!

mariahill: She made it through without punching a reporter. I’m so proud.

Later at the after-party, Lewis posted a series of candids, including a video of him and Serena dancing to ‘Move Your Feet.’

Serena, now in a short green dress, moved effortlessly, laughing as Lewis spun her around. Steve, standing off to the side, just shook his head, laughing.

As they arrived back in their hotel suite, Steve turned to Serena, amused.

“Oh, by the way,” he said casually, “Jimmy Fallon asked me to be on his show tomorrow.”

Serena groaned. “Steve.”

He smirked, pulling her close. “You’re coming with me.”

She sighed, smiling against his chest.

“Fine. But if he makes a Captain America joke, I’m leaving you there.”

Serena woke up to the soft glow of daylight filtering through the sheer curtains of their Plaza suite. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below and the rhythmic sound of Steve’s breathing beside her.

Still tangled in the expensive hotel sheets, she blinked blearily at her phone, stretching an arm out to grab it from the nightstand.

Notifications. 

Everywhere.

With a groggy sigh, she unlocked her phone and immediately winced.

Her Instagram had exploded.

Between her own post, Steve’s post, Lewis’ post, and every major fashion account reposting their photos from the Met Gala, her feed was pure chaos.

She rubbed her temple, exhaling slowly before opening Steve’s Instagram first, with a photo of the two of them before they left for the evening.

Steve Rogers (@captainrogers): A pre-Met moment with my girl. 

Comments:

tonystark: So the shield goes with a tux now? Classic.

mariahill: Serena looks stunning. Steve… well, he looks like he’s about to deliver a patriotic speech.

lewishamilton: Imagine being this disgustingly attractive. Can’t relate.

samwilson: If y’all don’t frame this picture and hang it in the compound, I will.

nickpierce_official: Who gave Steve permission to look this good? Serena, I need answers.

pepperpotts: Beautiful couple. Serena, let’s have lunch soon!

Serena smirked, shaking her head before moving on to Lewis’ post, which had candid photos, a video of her and Lewis dancing at the afterparty and a picture of her, Lewis, and Steve. 

Lewis Hamilton (@lewishamilton): Me, S, and America’s Golden Boy at the Met Gala. Also featuring a video of S showing me up on the dance floor. Swipe right for proof. 

Comments:

valdefontaine: That dress is everything. Also, Lewis, I expect better dance moves next time.

serena_pierce: I was carrying the performance, let’s be honest.

tonystark: Steve Rogers watching from the sidelines is the funniest part of this entire thing.

mariahill: Ser, I hope you stretched before dancing in heels. I don’t want to hear you complain later.

capitals: Serena, the people demand more of this content. Please and thank you.

danielricciardo: Why do I feel like Lewis lost this dance battle?

Serena groaned, running a hand through her blonde hair. “Oh my God.”

Later that evening, Serena had found herself as a spectacle again in the press...well...more so Steve did, as he agreed to the Tonight Show interview.

The NBC studios buzzed with energy, the Tonight Show set illuminated by bright lights and a packed audience. Serena stood just off-stage, arms crossed as she leaned against the backdrop of cables, crew members, and teleprompters.

She had tried—really tried—to convince Steve that she didn’t need to be here.

But he had given her that damn look, the one that made her heart twist, and said, “I want you here, honey. Just for moral support.”

And so, here she was, backstage, clutching her phone in one hand while her other absentmindedly toyed with the Cartier watch Tony had given her. The weight of it against her wrist was comforting, grounding.

But every so often, another ping from her phone would bring her back to reality.

The United Nations panel was convening rather soon to discuss about what to do with the Avengers, and how they should answer for their 'crimes', making a chill run down her spine in that moment.

She was spiraling again.

She could feel it.

She shook the thought away.

Focus on Steve. Not the world.

From behind the curtain, Jimmy Fallon was in the middle of his opening monologue when he grinned widely, leaning toward the camera.

“And ladies and gentlemen, we have a legend in the house tonight! I mean, I don’t think he needs an introduction, but… let’s give him one anyway. You know him as Captain America, the leader of the Avengers, a man who somehow looks this good at 98 years old… STEVE ROGERS!”

The studio erupted as the band played a lively theme, and Steve walked onto the stage, flashing his signature polite smile.

Dressed in a navy suit and tie, he looked effortlessly at ease—though Serena knew better.

He hated the limelight.

But he did this because he understood what it meant—not just for himself, but for the Avengers. For the world.

Steve shook hands with Fallon before settling into the chair opposite him, taking a sip from the mug on the table.

Fallon grinned. “First of all, welcome back to the show, my friend. How’s life treating you?”

Steve chuckled. “Pretty good, Jimmy. Thanks for having me.”

“Well, before we get into the big questions, let me just say—you can pass along my regards to Serena Pierce. She killed it at the Met Gala.”

At the mention of her name, Steve leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering just enough for the microphone to pick up as he whispered conspiratorially,

“She’s here.”

The audience went absolutely nuts.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, laughing. “Wait, wait, wait—she’s here? Where?”

Steve tilted his head slightly toward the wings of the stage, eyes twinkling.

Jimmy turned toward the backstage curtain, hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “Serena! If you don’t come out, I swear, I’ll personally—”

Serena groaned, shaking her head, before stepping slightly into view for half a second—just long enough to do a quick, small wave before retreating.

The audience screamed again, cameras flashing as Fallon laughed. “Oh, she’s private private. Got it. Respect.”

Steve smirked. “She’s a lot smarter than me about these things.”

Jimmy shook his head with a chuckle. “Alright, alright, back to you, Rogers. So listen, we have a lot to cover. You just went viral from the Met Gala.”

A huge image of Steve and Serena on the Met steps popped up on the screen behind them—the one that had been everywhere. Steve looking effortlessly sharp in a tux, Serena glowing in her emerald gown, both of them stealing the spotlight.

Fallon gestured to the screen dramatically. “Like, come on! This looks like the cover of a freaking romance novel. This photo alone got millions of likes, comments, thirst tweets—”

Steve gave a helpless shrug, chuckling as the crowd cheered again. “Hey, I just show up where she tells me to.”

Jimmy laughed. “I gotta ask though, were you expecting the internet to explode over this?”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not at all. But… I guess I should’ve.”

The audience "awww’d" as Fallon leaned in with a smirk.

“So, tell me—what’s the story there? You and Serena?”

Steve grinned, leaning back. “That’s a long one.”

Fallon wagged his brows. “We love long stories here.”

Steve exhaled with amusement. “Alright, well… funnily enough, we actually met on a run in D.C. But not the way you think.”

Jimmy leaned forward dramatically. “Not a ‘on your left’ moment?”

“No,” Steve laughed. “More like Serena’s dog got loose, and I had to chase her halfway down the National Mall.”

The audience cracked up.

“No way,” Jimmy gasped, wiping his forehead. “Molly? That was the first meeting?”

Steve nodded. “Yep. I caught her eventually, but she nearly took me out in the process.”

Jimmy grinned. “And now you’re getting married. Talk about fate.”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Fallon perked up. “Speaking of which—the wedding!  What’s the plan? Give us the details!”

Steve sighed playfully. “I knew this was coming.”

“Come on, Cap!”

Steve smirked. “Well, it’s going to be private, that’s for sure. Small, just family and close friends.”

Jimmy pouted. “So no live broadcast? No exclusive deals?”

Steve laughed. “Absolutely not.”

Jimmy waved a hand. “Alright, alright. But the bachelor party?”

Steve rubbed his face. “God. That’s being planned by Nick, Lewis, and Sam, which means—”

“Oh, no.”

Steve sighed dramatically. “I’ve already vetoed skydiving, a yacht party in Monaco, and something that involved a private island.”

The crowd roared.

Fallon was dying. “Nick and Lewis do not mess around.”

“No, they do not.”

“Who’s your best man?”

Steve paused. “I haven't decided yet.”

"What?" Fallon exclaimed in shock. "You haven't picked one yet!"

Steve nodded with a shrug. "I can't decide."

"Who's up for it?" Fallon questioned.

Steve paused again. "Sam's the front runner."

That got cheers from the audience. 

"Alright, alright." Fallon said with a grin and nod. "Who else?"

Steve tilted his head back and forth. "I'm still deciding. Nick, Serena's brother has petitioned his way into the running, much to Serena's annoyance."

This made the audience laugh again.

"We love a supportive older brother." Fallon said with a nod.

"And Lewis..." Steve began trailing off, earning more laughs from the audience and Fallon. "Lewis sent me a 80 slide power-point on why he'd be the best choice for the job."

"He's very thorough." Jimmy nodded. “God, I love friendship.”

Serena's thumb hovered over her notifications, her stomach tightening as more updates about the UN panel kept appearing.

New Global Policy on Superhumans?
Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross calls for stronger oversight on the Avengers.
World Leaders Debate Accountability for Sokovia.

She swallowed hard, shoving her phone into her clutch.

It could wait.

At least for tonight.

Jimmy glanced at the clock. “Steve, before I let you go, I have to ask—are you and Serena watching this episode together later?”

Steve smirked. “I doubt it. She’s already judging me from backstage.”

The audience laughed.

Jimmy sighed theatrically. “Fine. I’ll settle for one thing—can we get another viral picture of you two before the wedding?”

Steve chuckled. “No promises, but… I think I can make that happen.”

Jimmy grinned. “That’s all I needed. Give it up for Steve Rogers, everyone!”

The audience erupted in applause, the band playing as Steve shook Jimmy’s hand before heading backstage.

The moment he stepped behind the curtain, Serena was already waiting for him.

He gave her a knowing smile. “You gonna critique my performance?”

She rolled her eyes, looping her arms around his neck. “You survived. Barely.”

Steve kissed her temple, pulling her close. “Let’s go home, honey.”

And for the moment, the world—and all of its uncertainties—could wait.

The black SUV glided smoothly through the quiet streets of New York, the hum of the city just beyond the tinted windows. Inside, the warmth of the Tonight Show interview still lingered, but the weight of reality had begun creeping back in.

Serena leaned her head against the window, staring out at the skyline, watching as the towering buildings flickered past. She was quiet, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the face of her Cartier watch.

Steve noticed. 

Of course, he did.

They had barely spoken since getting in the car, save for a few murmured comments about how well the interview had gone.

But Serena was thinking. And when she thought too much, it meant something was brewing beneath the surface.

Steve reached over, resting a hand on her knee. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

She glanced at him. “Hear what?”

He gave her one of those looks. “Ser, I can feel you overthinking from here.”

She exhaled through her nose, tilting her head back against the seat. “It’s just…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I liked the interview. You handled it well. Even the wedding stuff.”

Steve smirked. “That’s a relief.”

“But,” she continued, her voice quieter, “I got distracted, as I started reading headlines about the UN's panel, and while I was reading them, I noticed how it was lightly touched upon during the interview… it rattled me...slightly”

Steve’s easy expression hardened slightly. “Me too.”

She studied him, watching the way his jaw tensed, how his fingers curled slightly against his jeans. He wasn’t just saying that for her benefit.

“You think they’re going to put us on a leash,” she said, more statement than question.

Steve sighed, rubbing his thumb absently against the back of her hand. “I don’t know what they’re going to do. But if they try to force us under government control… that’s not something I can get behind.”

Serena felt a cold weight settle in her stomach.

This wasn’t just some political debate.

It was their lives.

Their ability to act when people needed them.

“You know I’m not against oversight, as it's part of my job as a liason,” she murmured. “I’m not against some form of structure. But the way the press is talking, about the way Ross was talking…”

Steve’s grip on her hand tightened slightly.

He hated Ross.

The man had been waiting for an excuse to put them in a box, to take away their ability to make decisions.

“I know,” Steve muttered. “And I have a bad feeling about this.”

Serena rubbed her temples. “It just feels like we’re on the verge of losing control of everything.”

He watched her for a moment before shifting in his seat, angling himself toward her.

“Is that what’s really bothering you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She hesitated—just for a second.

Steve caught it. 

Of course, he did.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Ser, what’s going on?”

Serena exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the team.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What about them?”

She hesitated again, biting her lip. “I don’t know. It’s… hard to explain.”

Steve waited, knowing better than to push.

Finally, she sighed. “I trust you. I trust Nat. I trust Sam. I even trust Rhodey. I’ve known them a long time. But…”

She paused, trying to articulate the feeling that had been gnawing at her since the team had formed.

“But Wanda and Vision are new,” Steve finished for her.

She nodded slowly. “It’s not just that. It’s…” She swallowed, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I want to trust them. I should trust them. But after everything—Hydra, SHIELD—my instincts won’t let me.”

Steve’s expression softened.

He reached for her hand again, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. “I get it. After everything we’ve been through, trusting people isn’t easy.”

Serena looked at him, searching his face. “Do you?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

She turned her body toward him slightly, studying him carefully. “You trust people so easily, Steve. You always see the best in them.”

He shrugged slightly. “Not always.”

“More than I do,” she countered.

Steve exhaled, letting his gaze drop for a moment before meeting hers again. “I trust because I have to. If I didn’t, I’d be alone in this.”

Serena’s throat tightened.

She knew that feeling all too well.

He watched her for a long moment before speaking again. “But I also know that trusting blindly can be dangerous.”

Serena sighed, looking down at her lap. “I just… don’t want to make a mistake.”

Steve was quiet for a moment before he said, carefully, “Have you thought about talking to someone?”

Her head snapped up. “Steve—”

“I mean it, Ser,” he pressed gently. “You carry a lot on your shoulders. More than you let on. Maybe talking to someone—”

Her stomach twisted.

She already knew where this was going.

“You want me to see a therapist,” she said, her voice more restrained than before.

Steve held her gaze. “I think it could help.”

Serena’s fingers curled against the fabric of her dress. “I already had a therapist.”

Steve blinked. “Had?”

She looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. “Dr. Andrew Gardner. He worked for SHIELD. He was one of the best.”

Steve caught the past tense immediately.

“…What happened to him?” he asked carefully.

Serena swallowed.

Her fingers twitched against her watch, her body stiff.

“I can’t get into it,” she murmured.

Steve frowned, but he didn’t push.

Serena closed her eyes briefly.

She couldn’t tell him.

Not because she didn’t want to, but because it was complicated.

Steve didn’t know Phil Coulson was alive.

The Avengers didn’t know.

And Dr. Gardner—Andrew—had died because of a mission with Coulson’s team. Because of Hydra’s experiments.

She didn’t want to bring that darkness into Steve’s world.

Steve exhaled, watching her carefully. “I know it’s hard, honey. But I just want you to feel like you can trust again. Freely.”

She finally looked at him, something vulnerable in her eyes. “I do trust, Steve. Just… carefully.”

Steve’s features softened.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face before resting his palm against her cheek.

“I get it,” he said gently. “And I love you. No matter what.”

Serena exhaled slowly, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” she murmured.

The car slowed as they approached the compound gates, the bright security lights flashing against the dark night.

Serena sighed, sitting up. “Back to reality.”

Steve smirked. “Yep. But at least we’re in it together.”

She smiled faintly, reaching for his hand one last time before the doors unlocked.

And as they stepped out of the car, she made a decision.

Steve was right.

She had to trust.

She had to let people in.

But it was going to take time.

And time was the one thing she didn’t know if they had.

 

Notes:

As always, fill free to comment.

Chapter 32: Chapter 32

2 Months Later

Serena wasn’t sleeping well.

She hadn’t been for weeks.

Part of it was the waiting.

The UN’s panel on the Avengers had been in deliberation for weeks, and every single morning, Serena woke up expecting a decision.

And still, nothing.

She checked her phone constantly.

Refreshing news feeds. Scanning for leaks. Searching for any hint of what was coming.

And then… there was the other thing.

The exhaustion.

Serena had never been the kind of person who needed a lot of sleep. She could run on a few hours, survive off coffee and adrenaline, push through even the most demanding missions.

But this?

This was different.

No matter how much she slept, she still woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck.

And the nausea?

It was merciless.

For two weeks, she had barely been able to keep food down. Coffee? Impossible.

She chalked it up to stress.

The waiting. The uncertainty.

Until this morning.

This morning, she barely made it to the bathroom before emptying what little was left of her stomach.

And now?

Now she was dreading the moment Steve left.

1 Hour Later

Steve was leaving for Lagos.

Natasha, Sam, and Wanda were going too—a lead on Brock Rumlow, the man who had tried to kill them all in D.C.

Normally, she would have insisted on going.

But this time?

Steve asked her not to.

“You’re not yourself,” he had said last night, after catching her swaying slightly in the hallway. “Stay here. Rest. I don’t want you pushing yourself right now.”

And for once?

She had agreed.

So now she stood by the compound entrance, watching as Steve finished adjusting his tactical gear.

She felt off-balance—like something was shifting under her feet, like she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

Steve noticed.

He always did.

He turned, his blue eyes scanning her face, brows drawing together in concern.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Serena forced a small smile.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured, reaching up to fix a strap on his shoulder. “Just go. Kick some ass.”

Steve didn’t move just yet.

His hands slid gently onto her waist, pulling her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll call when we land.”

Serena nodded. “I know.”

Then, quieter—more reluctant:

“Be careful.”

Steve smirked, pressing another kiss—this time to her lips, lingering.

“Aren’t I always?”

Serena huffed a soft laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

He grinned.

Then, with one last look, he turned and joined Natasha, Sam, and Wanda on the Quinjet.

Serena watched them go.

And the second they were gone—

She breathed out.

And then her stomach twisted.

Because something wasn’t right.

3 Hours Later 

It was Maria who found her first.

Serena had been staring at the test for a solid five minutes, sitting on the bathroom floor, completely still.

She hadn’t even realized Maria had entered the room until—

“No fucking way.”

Serena’s head snapped up.

Maria stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

Serena blinked.

Then, after a long beat—

“Yeah.”

Maria took two steps closer.

Then stopped.

Then pointed.

“No fucking way.”

Serena exhaled slowly.

“Right?”

Maria’s eyes darted to the test on the floor—the positive staring right back at them.

Silence.

Then—

Maria’s head tilted slightly.

“…Were you trying to—?”

“No. Fuck no.” Serena shook her head. “I did the thing.”

Maria squinted. “What thing?”

Serena sighed. “The thing. The not having a baby thing.”

Maria made a face. “Clearly not well enough.”

Serena groaned.

Then—

A pause.

Maria studied her closely.

Then asked, more carefully—

“Okay. Are we happy about this? Or are we exercising our legal right to choose?”

Serena opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

Because she hadn’t really thought that far.

She had only been processing the shock.

But now?

Now that Maria had asked?

Her lips pressed together, her hand drifting to her stomach almost subconsciously.

Maria saw it.

And her face softened.

Serena hesitated—then, for the first time, her mouth curled into a small, uncertain smile.

Maria grinned.

Then—

“Okay! Let’s hug it out!”

Serena snorted as Maria practically lunged forward, wrapping her in a tight, fierce hug.

Serena let herself lean into it, exhaling slowly.

When they pulled back, Maria gripped her arms, eyes warm but teasing.

“This is very adult of you, Serena Pierce. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Serena laughed softly.

Then—

Maria’s expression shifted.

A little more serious.

“Did you tell Rogers yet?”

Serena hesitated.

Then, quietly—

“…No.”

Maria frowned. “Ser. You have to tell him.”

“I know.” Serena ran a hand through her hair. “I just… I wanted to be sure first.”

Maria nodded slowly.

Then—

“Okay, well, who else knows?”

Serena gave her a look.

Maria’s eyes widened slightly.

“…You didn’t tell your brother?”

Serena shook her head. “Not yet.”

Maria’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t tell your mother?”

Another shake. “Not yet.”

Maria took a dramatic step back.

“…You didn’t tell Lewis? You didn't tell Val?”

Serena groaned.

Maria stared.

Then muttered, half-joking, half-serious—

“…It makes sense for the later two. The second Val and Lewis know, the entire world will know, right?”

Serena sighed.

“Yeah.”

Maria let that sink in.

Then—

“Ser.” She leveled her with a look. “You. Have. To. Tell. Steve.”

Serena swallowed.

She knew that.

Of course, she knew that.

But—

Something about it felt big.

Bigger than everything else.

And maybe that’s why she had been delaying.

Maria watched her closely.

Then—

A little softer—

“He’s going to be so happy, Ser.”

Serena exhaled.

Then, finally—

“I know.”

And now?

Now, all she had to do was wait.

Because once Steve got back?

Everything was about to change.

The Quinjet touched down just after midnight.

And she was already waiting.

She stood near the landing pad, arms crossed, hair tied back loosely, exhaustion pressing down on her—but not from physical strain. From the waiting. From not knowing.

And the second she saw Steve step off the jet, her stomach dropped.

He looked wrecked.

Not injured, not physically hurt—but there was something in his eyes, something deep and weighted, and Serena knew.

Something had gone wrong.

“What Happened?”

Serena didn’t wait.

The second Steve stepped inside their private quarters, she was already on him.

Not physically, not yet—but there, in his space, her hand grasping his wrist gently, pulling him to face her.

His eyes met hers.

And Serena saw the exhaustion. The weight. The guilt.

“Steve,” she murmured. “What happened?”

Steve inhaled sharply.

Then, quietly—

“We found Rumlow.”

Serena’s jaw tightened.

She waited.

Steve let out a slow, heavy exhale, running a hand down his face.

“He was armed with a bomb,” he said. “I almost had him, but he… he activated it. Wanda tried to contain it.”

Serena’s breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes darkened.

“She meant to throw it up, away from people, but it… it hit the side of a building.” His voice grew strained. “Civilians were inside. There were… casualties.”

Silence.

Serena felt her chest tighten.

Wanda.

The girl had already been through hell.

And now?

Now, she was going to blame herself for this.

Steve dragged a hand through his hair, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenching.

“She was trying to help,” he murmured. “She did everything she could.”

Serena reached out, gripping his hands.

“I know,” she said softly.

Steve exhaled again.

Then—

“She blames herself.”

Serena squeezed his hands tighter.

“Of course she does.”

Steve’s gaze lifted, scanning her face.

His expression wavered.

Serena watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his shoulders carried more than they should.

She recognized it.

The feeling.

The weight. The exhaustion. The guilt.

She had felt it countless times before.

And so she did the only thing she could.

She pulled him in, holding him close, breathing in his scent. 

"Go take a shower." She murmured, knowing in the past that always cleared his head.

Only this time, she wasn't so sure.

"Join me." He quietly pleaded, and she gave him a soft nod.

The moment Steve stepped into the shower, he pulled Serena against him.

He was barely touching the water, barely even washing off the mission.

His only focus was her.

Holding her.

Feeling her.

Serena didn’t pull away.

Didn’t tell him to move.

Didn’t step back to give him space.

Instead, she let him hold on.

Her hands ran slowly up his back, tracing the tension in his muscles, his scars.

His breath was uneven.

His forehead pressed against her shoulder.

She could feel his heart pounding.

“I should’ve stopped it,” he murmured roughly.

Serena’s hands tightened against his back.

“No,” she whispered. “You did everything you could.”

Steve’s fingers dug into her waist.

“But it wasn’t enough.”

Serena pulled back, just enough to force him to meet her eyes.

“It never feels like enough,” she said. “We save one life, but lose another. We stop one threat, but cause collateral. But Steve—it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Wanda’s fault.”

Steve swallowed, his blue eyes flickering with emotion.

He was spiraling.

She could see it.

The way his jaw clenched. The way his body was rigid.

And Serena knew.

She had to pull him back.

“Hey.” She reached up, cupping his face. “Look at me.”

He did.

And Serena softened.

“You always carry the weight of the world,” she murmured. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

His breath hitched.

Then, finally—

He exhaled.

And held onto her tighter.

By the time they got to bed, Steve didn’t want to let her go.

Serena didn’t fight it.

Didn’t tease him.

Didn’t make a joke about how clingy he was being.

Because she knew.

She knew what this was.

She had been here before.

So she let him hold her.

Steve curled against her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face buried in her shoulder.

His breathing was deep. Steady. Safe.

And for the first time since he had landed—

He slept.

Serena pressed a kiss to his temple.

And let herself breathe.

Because right now?

Right now, Steve needed her.

So she would be there.

Always.

1 Month Later

Serena still hadn’t told him.

She had meant to.

She had tried.

But every time she got close, something stopped her.

Steve had enough on his plate.

The fallout from Nigeria.

The UN’s decision looming over them.

Wanda.

His own guilt.

And so she had kept it to herself.

The only person who knew was Maria.

And that?

That was enough for now.

She was dealing with her own issues regarding the Lagos attack, as members of the intelligence community were coming to her for her own opinion, along with her trying to clean up the mess slightly, or contain it to it's minimum...but it was not working.

She was sitting at her desk, fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of her laptop as she listened to her brother’s voice over the video call.

Nick’s expression was grim.

“T’Chaka is pissed, Ser,” he said flatly. “This whole thing? It’s a disaster. He’s calling for consequences, and frankly, I don’t blame him.”

Serena’s jaw tightened.

She leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her honey-blonde hair.

“I know,” she murmured. “I saw the reports. He has every right to be furious.”

Nick sighed. “You know how much he means to me. He practically raised me when I was in Wakanda, and now…”

Serena nodded slowly.

She knew how much T’Chaka cared for Nick, how much T’Challa considered him a brother.

But that didn’t change the facts.

Didn’t change the reality.

“We screwed up,” she admitted. “And now we’re paying for it.”

Nick’s expression hardened.

“Consequences are coming, Ser,” he warned. “And you need to figure out where you stand. Do you back Steve? Or do you back oversight?”

Serena felt a twist in her stomach.

Because that was the problem.

She agreed that the Avengers needed structure.

But not like this.

Not as political pawns.

Not under Ross’s thumb.

Nick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, as he glanced at the clock on the wall in his Vienna hotel room. “I have to go. Ali and I have this dinner to get to with T'Challa and T'Chaka. But listen—whatever happens, just be careful.”

Serena exhaled, nodding. “You too.”

The screen went dark.

Serena sat back, pressing her fingers to her temples.

This wasn’t going to end well.

She knew it. She leaned back in her chair, and looked over the screensaver on her computer monitor.

It was a picture of her and Steve at Silverstone with their arms wrapped around one another. Both of them so happy, so in love...and so unaware of what was to come in the future. Her right hand absentmindedly drifted to her flat abdomen. She needed to tell him soon, because if she didn't, he'd think two things:

The first being that she hid this from him because it's not his (which was 100% not the case, because everyone knew she was head-over-heels in love with him).

The second being that she was getting fat (but steve would never admit that).

Just as she came back to reality, she heard the faint sound of the news carried from down the hall making her follow it out of her office and down the hall.

She reached Steve’s office, stepping inside without knocking. He was sitting at his desk, deep in thought. Molly was laying loyally by his feet, tail flicking every once in a while in happiness. That's when Serena noticed a few things on his desk that she never really payed attention to. One being a drawing he did during the war, another being a framed picture of the two of them, back from their STRIKE days.

That's when she noticed that his expression heavy with his own computer monitor played a clip of the press conference T'Chaka had earlier in the day. T’Chaka stood at the podium, his voice steady, firm, unwavering.

“The Avengers must be held accountable. No nation should have the power to act unilaterally. No individual should be above consequence.”

Serena’s stomach clenched.

Steve didn’t say anything.

Just stared at the screen.

So Serena did the only thing she could.

Distract him.

“So,” she said, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “I read a study the other day about how golden retrievers are ranked as the most empathetic dogs. Which explains a lot about Molly.”

Steve didn’t look away from the computer.

Serena sighed.

“Also,” she continued, “did you know that statistically, people who drink black coffee are more likely to be psychopaths?”

Steve finally turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

She smirked. “Which makes sense, because I drink mine black.”

Steve shook his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

But it faded too fast.

His expression sobered.

“I feel guilty, Ser,” he murmured.

Serena sighed, stepping closer.

“You shouldn’t,” she said. “You did everything you could.”

Steve’s jaw tensed.

“Did I?” he muttered.

She knelt beside him, resting a hand on his knee.

“You can’t carry this alone,” she whispered.

Steve exhaled, reaching for her hand, squeezing it gently.

A moment passed.

Then—

A faint noise from down the hall.

The sound of a TV in Wanda’s room.

Steve’s expression shifted.

“She hasn’t left her room,” he murmured.

Serena nodded. “She’s struggling.”

Steve stood abruptly, moving toward the door.

“I should talk to her,” he said.

Serena watched him go.

And just as she was about to head back to her office—

Her earpiece crackled.

Maria’s voice came through, urgently.

“Serena,” she said. “Stark just arrived. And he brought the Secretary of State with him.”

Serena stilled.

Her heart dropped.

And just like that—

Everything changed.

The conference room inside the Avengers compound was eerily quiet, a tension hanging in the air like an approaching storm.

Serena sat toward the back, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Maria was next to her, her expression unreadable, but Serena knew she was watching—watching her.

Because Maria knew.

Maria knew Serena Pierce was barely holding it together.

The room was full.

Steve. Natasha. Wanda. Rhodey. Sam. Tony. Vision.

And Thaddeus Ross.

The Secretary of State stood at the front of the room, his hands braced against the conference table. His voice was calm, steady, but authoritative—a general addressing his troops.

"Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass… I found something forty years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective."

Serena barely heard him.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

She could feel Steve’s eyes on her, but she refused to meet them.

Ross continued.

"The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some… who would prefer the word 'vigilantes'."

That snapped her back.

Serena’s jaw clenched.

Beside her, Maria stiffened, but it was Natasha who spoke first.

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?"

Ross didn’t hesitate.

"How about 'dangerous'?"

Serena felt it then.

A deep, twisting sensation in her gut.

"What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose… and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

Ross turned to an aide, and the screen behind him flickered to life.

Serena’s fingers dug into the armrest of her chair.

And then—

New York.

A Chitauri leviathan.

Terrified citizens.

A soldier firing a gun.

The Hulk smashing into a building.

Serena inhaled sharply, her eyes flicking to Rhodey.

His face was tight.

His lips pressed in a thin line.

He glanced at Natasha, who didn’t react.

Ross’s voice didn’t falter.

"Washington D.C."

The footage changed.

And suddenly, Serena wasn’t in the conference room anymore.

Flashback – Washington D.C.

The Triskelion was burning.

The Insight helicarriers tore into the sky, guns blazing.

Hydra agents—men she had fought beside, men she had trained with—were shooting at her.

She felt the burn of a bullet grazing her shoulder, the sharp bite of pain.

Maria’s voice in her earpiece—

"Serena, you need to get out of there—"

Her father.

Alexander Pierce stood in his office, calm, as if the building wasn’t collapsing around him.

"You have to understand, Serena. This is bigger than you."

She had aimed her gun.

Her hands had shaken.

For the first time in her entire life.

"Tell me you didn’t know." Her voice had been raw, desperate. "Tell me you weren’t planning to kill us."

A pause.

A slow exhale.

"I did what I had to do."

Serena pulled the trigger.

Present – Avengers Compound

Serena’s fingernails dug into her palm.

The Triskelion crashed into the Potomac, the water engulfing civilians—

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Steady.

Ross was still talking.

"Sokovia."

The footage flashed.

A city rising.

People running.

Buildings falling.

She saw Wanda stiffen.

Saw Tony’s jaw clench.

"Lagos."

A burning building.

A body.

Wanda flinched.

Steve’s fists curled.

"Okay. That’s enough."

His voice was low, controlled.

Serena finally breathed.

The images disappeared.

Ross turned back to them, unfazed.

"For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate."

Serena forced herself to focus.

Ross slid a document across the table.

Thick. Heavy.

"The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel—only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

Serena’s breath hitched.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Steve spoke.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that."

Ross’s expression remained unreadable.

"Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?"

Steve’s face darkened.

Serena knew that look.

Knew it too well.

"If I misplaced a couple of 30-megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences."

Serena bit the inside of her cheek.

"Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works." Ross gestured to the document. "Believe me, this is the middle ground."

Rhodey leaned forward.

"So, there are contingencies?"

"Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords."

Serena flicked her gaze to Tony.

He had been silent.

Too silent.

"Talk it over."

Ross’s voice was final.

Natasha’s smirk was humorless.

"And if we come to a decision you don’t like?"

Ross didn’t blink.

"Then you retire."

The room fell silent.

Serena’s throat felt tight.

She could feel Steve watching her.

He knew.

Knew she was somewhere else.

Knew she had spent the last ten minutes reliving ghosts.

She forced herself to exhale.

Ross straightened, his tone shifting.

"I’ll give you some time. But not too much."

And then, just like that—

He was gone.

The moment the door clicked shut, Serena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Maria was already looking at her.

Serena glanced at Steve.

And she knew—

This was the beginning of the end.

1 Hours Later

The tension in the room was suffocating.

The Avengers had been at it for nearly an hour, their voices rising and falling in heated discussion, arguments bouncing off the walls like stray bullets. Serena sat in the corner, one leg crossed over the other, fingers resting on her temple as she tried to block out the headache pounding against her skull.

But there was no blocking this out.

The Sokovia Accords.

Serena had read every word of the document. Every clause, every stipulation, every legal trap hidden beneath the diplomatic wording.

And she had no idea what to do.

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have."

Rhodey’s voice was sharp, his posture rigid as he squared off against Sam.

"So let's say we agree to this thing," Sam shot back, arms crossed, his stance mirroring Steve’s. "How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?"

"A hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this," Rhodey countered, his voice exasperated. "A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you're just like, 'No, that's cool. We got it.'"

"How long are you going to play both sides?"

Serena exhaled slowly, rubbing at her temples.

And then Vision spoke.

"I have an equation."

Sam groaned. "Oh, this will clear it up."

Vision, as logical as ever, continued.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

Steve straightened slightly. "Are you saying it's our fault?"

"I'm saying there may be a causality." Vision folded his hands. "Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict . . . breeds catastrophe. Oversight . . . oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

Serena’s stomach twisted.

"Boom," Rhodey muttered.

Serena caught Maria’s side-eye from across the room. She knew. She knew Serena was spiraling.

And then, finally, Natasha spoke.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal."

Natasha had been quiet until now, but even she seemed unnerved by Tony’s silence.

Steve, his eyes scanning Tony’s face, exhaled. "It's because he's already made up his mind."

Tony scoffed, sitting up. "Boy, you know me so well."

Serena watched him closely.

"Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache." Tony made his way to the kitchen, rummaging for a coffee mug. "That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort."

Serena blinked as his words echoed through her skull.

Discomfort.

God.

She felt it.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

"Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?"

Steve wasn’t amused.

No one was.

Tony turned back to them—but this time, he was holding his phone.

Serena’s breath hitched as the screen lit up.

A picture of a smiling young man.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. Great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service."

Serena knew where this was going.

"Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where? Sokovia."

Tony’s voice had no humor in it now.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

Serena looked away.

"There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up." Steve’s voice was low, measured.

"Who said we're giving up?"

"We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame."

"I’m sorry, Steve. That—that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodey was shaking his head now. "This is the United Nations we're talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA."

Steve leaned forward. "No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change."

Tony scoffed. "That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing."

"Tony, you chose to do that." Steve’s voice hardened. "If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

Tony let out a frustrated laugh.

"If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty."

"You're saying they'll come for me." Wanda interjected getting a distant look in her eyes.

Vision put a hand on her shoulder. "We would protect you."

And then—

Tony turned to her.

"And where do you stand on this, Barbie?"

Serena felt every single pair of eyes in the room snap to her.

Steve shifted instantly. "Honey, you don’t have to answer—"

"Don’t answer for her, Cap," Tony cut in sharply. "She’s a grown woman, she can answer for herself. I'm surprised she hasn't given us her usual 'CIA-favored nonsense'."

Serena’s jaw tensed.

Her stomach flipped.

Slowly, she uncrossed her legs and sat forward.

She could feel the weight of expectation, of uncertainty, of loyalty pulling her in every direction at once.

And so she spoke.

"I agree that we need oversight." Her voice was even, unwavering.

Steve’s shoulders stiffened.

"But I don’t believe we should be political pawns."

Tony tilted his head. "That’s a diplomatic way of putting it."

Serena let out a breath.

"I have spent my entire life following orders. My entire life working for organizations that dictated where I went, what I did, who I fought for. I know what it means to be controlled. I know what it means when an organization with too much power decides to pull the strings."

Her gaze flicked to Natasha.

She understood. 

She, other than Maria, was probably the only other person in the room that understood where she was coming from.

"I do think we need structure." Serena glanced at Steve. "But I will not sign something that takes away our autonomy. That puts our ability to act at risk."

Silence.

Then, Natasha leaned back, studying her.

"Maybe Tony’s right."

Steve’s head snapped toward her.

"If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer."

"Aren't you the same woman who told the government to 'kiss her ass' a few years ago?" Sam asked before he looked to Serena. "That goes for you too Pierce, since you and Romanoff flipped off Congress together after DC."

Serena let out a sigh, but she could see it.

See the cracks forming in the team.

"We are just laying the terrain." Natasha countered calmly. "We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."

Tony let out a sharp laugh.

"Did I just hear you agree with me?"

Natasha sighed. "Oh, I want to take it back now."

But Tony grinned.

"No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed—I win."

And then—

Steve’s phone buzzed.

Serena’s stomach clenched.

She watched as he read the message.

Watched as his entire demeanor changed.

"I have to go."

He was up and out the door before anyone could ask why.

Serena swallowed.

And the room felt colder.

The hallways of the compound were dimly lit, the soft hum of security systems the only sound as Serena hurried after Steve. Her heels clicked against the sleek floors, echoing louder than they should have in the silence.

She didn’t have to see his face to know he was hurting.

He walked with purpose, like he always did, his shoulders squared, his fists clenched at his sides. But his steps were just a little too fast, like he was running from something he didn’t know how to fight.

Serena knew that feeling too well.

"Steve!"

He stopped at the sound of her voice, exhaling sharply before turning around.

His expression was unreadable, but the grief in his eyes was unmistakable.

"She’s gone," he said, voice rough.

Serena’s breath caught.

Peggy.

Serena had never truly known her—not like Steve had. But she had understood her. Peggy Carter was a legend. A woman who had shaped the very foundation of SHIELD, of everything Serena had once sworn her life to. She had been Steve’s anchor before the ice, before everything changed.

Now, she was just a memory.

"When?" she asked, softly.

"Last night. In her sleep."

Serena stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

"The funeral?"

"London. In two days. They… they asked me to be a pallbearer."

Her heart ached for him.

And God, what was she even supposed to say?

She wasn’t naïve. She knew Peggy had been the love of his life once.

How could she comfort him when she had taken her place?

"Do you need me to come with you?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Steve looked at her for a long time.

"I—" He hesitated. "Would you?"

There was something fragile in his voice, something unspoken.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"Of course, Steve."

He exhaled, his grip tightening around hers like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And in a way, maybe she was.

Later That Night

The compound was quiet.

The storm of the Accords debate had momentarily faded into the background. But Serena knew it would return, and soon.

For now, it was just them.

Steve lay beside her in bed, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, his fingers tracing absent-minded circles against her hip. His breathing was even, but she could tell his mind was restless.

At the foot of the bed, Molly lay curled up, her golden fur rising and falling in steady breaths.

"What do you want for the wedding?" Steve asked suddenly.

Serena turned her head on the pillow to look at him, surprised by the question.

"What?"

"The wedding." His voice was quiet, but steady. "We haven’t really talked about what you want."

Serena exhaled, rolling onto her side to face him fully.

"I want it to be small," she admitted. "Just family. Close friends. Maybe somewhere quiet. Monaco?"

Steve’s lips quirked up slightly. "You really want to get married in Monaco?"

She shrugged, grinning slightly. "It’s beautiful. It’s not too far. And you know… it just feels right."

Steve nodded, processing the idea.

"And what about the dress?" he asked, curiously.

Serena smirked. "I’m not telling you that."

"Not even a hint?"

"Nope."

Steve chuckled. "That’s cruel."

"Ralph Lauren already sent me some ideas for the ceremony dress, though," she admitted. "Maria helped me go through them."

Steve hummed, his fingers still tracing light circles against her back.

"What do you want?" she asked, tilting her head.

Steve hesitated.

"For the wedding?"

"Yeah. I don’t want to make all the decisions, Rogers."

He was quiet for a moment, as if thinking about it.

"Honestly?" he said finally. "I just want you, Honey."

Serena felt her chest tighten.

God, how was he this good?

"That was disgustingly romantic," she teased, though her smile was soft.

Steve grinned, then sat up slightly, reaching for his phone.

"Speaking of the wedding," he said, swiping through something. "Lewis sent me a video."

Serena raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of video?"

Steve smirked, then turned the screen toward her.

The video opened with Lewis, sitting at a desk, wearing sunglasses indoors, looking ridiculously dramatic.

"Steven Grant Rogers," Lewis began, seriously. "This is my formal campaign for the position of Best Man at your wedding."

Serena groaned.

"Oh my God."

Steve grinned.

"I know I have already provided an 80-slide PowerPoint on why I am the most logical choice," Lewis continued, "but I thought I’d solidify my case with a heartfelt video."

Serena buried her face in her hands.

"He’s ridiculous."

Steve was full-on laughing now.

"Wait, wait—it gets better."

Lewis leaned forward, dramatically removing his sunglasses.

"Steve, let’s be real," he said, dead serious. "Sam Wilson is already a frontrunner. Nick has petitioned his way into the running. But let’s talk about me for a second."

Serena shook her head.

"I have been Serena's adopted older brother for a very long time," Lewis said. "I have been there for her before either of you realized you were in love. I have witnessed the absolute chaos of your relationship firsthand, from the very beginning, and I met you only a few weeks after you two started dating. And most importantly—"

He pointed directly at the camera.

"You know I’d throw the best damn bachelor party of all time."

Serena gasped.

"Absolutely not."

Steve grinned.

"You have to admit—he has a point."

"No, Steve," Serena said firmly. "If you let Lewis plan your bachelor party, we will have Interpol at our wedding."

Steve laughed.

Serena, shaking her head, leaned back against the pillows, watching as he turned off the video.

And for the briefest moment, she thought about telling him.

Telling him about the pregnancy.

About how everything was going to change.

She opened her mouth—

And then she closed it.

Not yet.

He had too much on his mind.

"What are we going to do?"

Serena’s voice was softer now, her fingers intertwining with Steve’s.

Steve exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw.

"For the first time," he admitted, "I don’t know."

Serena felt her stomach tighten.

Steve Rogers always knew.

He always had a plan, a path, a way forward.

But now?

He looked lost.

"You always said you wanted a life of our own," she reminded him. "Something separate from all of this."

Steve was silent for a long moment.

"I didn’t want it yet," he said finally.

Serena nodded, understanding.

They weren’t ready.

But ready or not, it was coming.

And soon, it wouldn’t just be about them.

But for now—

She said nothing.

And instead, she held him closer.

 

Notes:

Civil War has officially started! Be prepared for anything to happen! As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 33: Chapter 33

London, St. Luke’s Cathedral

The air was frigid as Serena stepped out of the black car, her heels clicking against the ancient stone pavement.

The gothic cathedral loomed overhead, its spires lost in the gray sky, London’s ever-present chill sinking into her bones.

She pulled her black wool coat closer around her, smoothing the fabric over her dress. It was simple, elegant, tailored perfectly to her frame. Paired with sheer tights, Christian Louboutin heels, and her hair pinned in a perfectly coiled French twist, Serena Pierce was the image of composed sophistication.

Her black leather gloves were pristine, a shield against the cold, but mostly—against the world.

As she walked up the stone steps, she spotted Maria lingering near the entrance.

"Hill?" Serena arched a perfectly shaped brow.

Maria turned, a little uncomfortable in her mourning attire—Serena could tell just by the way she adjusted her coat.

"Pierce."

Serena’s gaze narrowed slightly as she glanced at Sam, who was standing next to Steve a few feet away.

"Wait, wait, wait—" Serena smirked. "You’re actually here? And let me guess… Wilson convinced you?"

Maria sighed, rolling her eyes, but her lips twitched slightly. "The bastard made a compelling case."

Serena’s smirk widened. "Oh, I bet he did."

Maria shot her a warning look, but Serena simply tilted her head smugly, storing this away for later teasing.

Inside, the hush of the cathedral settled over them, solemn and heavy. The pews were packed, mourners dressed in black, their faces solemn as they gathered to say goodbye to Margaret “Peggy” Carter.

Serena didn’t know Peggy Carter personally, but she knew her legacy. The woman had built SHIELD, defied the world at a time when no one wanted her to win.

She had been legendary.

And now, she was gone.

Serena sat beside Steve, her gloved fingers resting lightly over his as they listened to the priest’s voice echo through the cathedral.

Across the aisle, she spotted a familiar figure stepping up to the podium.

Her stomach twisted.

Sharon Carter.

Serena’s expression didn’t change, but something inside her bristled.

She knew exactly who Sharon was.

Memories flashed in her mind:

The Triskelion.

Fury’s voice echoing through the conference room.

“We need someone undercover near Rogers. Who wants the assignment?”

Serena, watching as Sharon jumped at the chance before anyone else could.

Serena’s fingers clenched into the leather of her gloves.

Sharon had always wanted to be close to him.

And now, here she was—his old neighbor, standing at the podium, addressing him directly.

"Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD," Sharon’s voice carried through the quiet. "But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy."

Steve, sitting beside her, tensed slightly.

Serena didn’t move, but she noticed.

"She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related."

There it was.

The look of surprise on Steve’s face.

Sam nudged him slightly, confirming his suspicion.

Serena bit the inside of her cheek. He never knew.

Sharon continued, her voice steady.

"I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said—"

Serena already knew what was coming.

"Compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move . . . it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say—"

"No. You move."

The words settled heavily over the room.

Serena felt Steve’s breath hitch.

And in that moment, she knew—

He would never sign the Accords.

After the funeral, the mourners lingered.

Steve stood alone, lost in thought.

Serena remained close, but she gave him space, watching as Natasha approached him.

"When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone," Steve murmured, voice rough with emotion. "Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her."

Natasha softened slightly.

"She had you back, too."

Serena glanced away, suddenly feeling like she was intruding.

"Who else signed?" Steve asked, his voice calmer now.

"Tony. Rhodey. Vision."

Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"Clint?"

Natasha smirked slightly. "Says he's retired."

Steve’s jaw tightened.

"Wanda?"

"TBD," Natasha said simply.

She hesitated, then finally said, "I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet."

Serena’s stomach twisted.

Vienna.

Nick was already there. So was her mother.

And she was still technically part of the Agency.

"Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path," Natasha murmured. "Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

Steve shook his head.

"What are we giving up to do it?"

Natasha sighed.

"I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it."

"I know."

Steve met her gaze, curious now.

"Then what are you doing here?"

Natasha gave him a small, tired smile.

"I didn’t want you to be alone."

Serena watched as Natasha pulled him into a hug.

"Come here."

Steve exhaled, returning the embrace, but Serena saw the conflict in his eyes.

Natasha turned to Serena.

"You coming to Vienna?" she asked.

Serena sighed.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?"

Natasha smirked. "Nope."

And with that, she was gone.

An Honest Conversation

After the church had emptied, Steve and Serena remained.

The candle near Peggy’s framed photograph still burned.

"You don’t have to go to Vienna," Steve said after a long silence.

Serena sighed.

"Yes, I do," she admitted. "Not as an Avenger. As a liaison. As a member of the Agency."

Steve exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"I know."

Serena hesitated before stepping closer, touching his arm.

"I know you won’t support the Accords," she murmured. "But I have to see this through. At least for now."

Steve nodded slowly, his blue eyes searching hers.

"I just—" He exhaled sharply. "I just wish things were simpler."

Serena huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"We don’t do simple, Rogers."

For a moment, they just stood there, surrounded by silence and ghosts of the past.

And then, Steve’s fingers brushed against hers.

"No," he murmured. "We don’t."

Serena leaned in, pressing her forehead against his.

For just a moment, the world disappeared.

And when she finally left for Vienna, she did so knowing—

Everything was about to fall apart.

Vienna, United Nations Headquarters

The UN Assembly Hall was filled with dignitaries, security personnel, and political figures from 117 nations, all gathered to ratify the Sokovia Accords. The air was thick with diplomacy, a mixture of calculated restraint and barely concealed tensions.

Serena Pierce stood just off to the side, dressed in a black, impeccably tailored Ralph Lauren suit, the fitted jacket buttoned over her midsection, her Louboutin heels clicking softly against the marble floors as she walked.

She had been at countless diplomatic summits in her career, both as an Avenger and as a liaison for The Agency, but this felt different.

Because this time—
The Avengers were the ones under scrutiny.

Standing next to Natasha Romanoff, Serena felt the weight of it pressing on her.

"At a special United Nations conference, 117 countries have come together to ratify the Sokovia Accords," a news anchor reported on the screens inside the main hall.

Serena exhaled slowly, keeping her expression neutral.

This was going to be hell.

"Excuse me, Miss Romanoff?"

Serena and Natasha turned at the sound of the UN staffer’s voice.

"Yes?" Natasha answered.

"These need your signature."

As Natasha took the documents, Serena’s gaze shifted to the figure standing near the glass window.

T’Challa.

Dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit, the Wakandan prince exuded composure and quiet authority, his dark eyes studying the room with the sharp perception of a man who had been raised to rule.

Serena had never met him in person before, though she had heard about him endlessly—from Nick.

A slow, warm smile pulled at T’Challa’s lips as his gaze landed on Serena.

"I have heard many stories about you, Serena Pierce."

Serena arched a brow. "Only good things, I hope."

"That depends on who is telling them," T’Challa replied smoothly.

And then—

"Hunter," T’Challa turned his attention toward Nick, who approached from the other side of the room, dressed in his usual black suit, effortlessly blending into the shadows.

Serena smirked slightly at the nickname, knowing full well how close T’Challa and her brother had become over the years.

"It has been too long, brother," Nick said, shaking T’Challa’s hand.

"Far too long," T’Challa agreed before glancing back at Serena. "It is an honor to finally meet you, Serena. Your father’s actions were known to Wakanda, and while we do not appreciate what he did to the world, your mother’s contributions to global security are respected and obeyed. I understand why you are here."

Serena nodded, appreciating his candor.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please, call me T’Challa."

The formality was gone in an instant, replaced by the easy familiarity that came from mutual respect.

Serena was about to respond when she felt a piercing gaze land on her from across the room.

Her mother.

Serena turned, immediately locking eyes with Felicita, who stood near the entrance of the hall.

Felicita’s expression was unreadable, but Serena knew that look.

Her mother knew something was off.

Serena swallowed down the anxiety rising in her chest, ignoring it as the meeting was about to begin.

The assembly was in session, and King T’Chaka stood at the podium, delivering his speech.

"When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy," he said, his voice deep and measured, filled with the kind of wisdom only time and pain could grant.

Serena listened intently, watching as T’Challa stood beside his father, listening with a mixture of pride and reverence.

"Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a goodwill mission from a country too long in the shadows," T’Chaka continued. "We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative."

Serena felt a pang of guilt in her stomach.

This was the best version of what oversight could be.

But she also knew the UN was not Wakanda.

This would not be clean.

T’Chaka was still speaking when T’Challa suddenly stiffened, his head snapping toward the window.

Serena felt it, too—that instinctual, bone-deep knowledge that something was about to go terribly wrong.

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"

T’Challa’s voice ripped through the air just as an explosion erupted outside the building.

The world turned into chaos.

Serena coughed as dust and smoke filled the air. The explosion had shattered windows, destroyed walls, and sent shockwaves through the entire conference hall.

She barely had time to react before she saw T’Challa on the ground, cradling his father.

She froze.

Her heart clenched.

T’Chaka was still.

T’Challa’s hands gripped his father’s lifeless body, desperation and devastation washing over his face in a way that Serena had never seen before.

For the first time, the future king of Wakanda looked lost.

Serena took an instinctive step forward, but Nick grabbed her arm.

"Ser, don’t."

"Nick, I—"

"Not now." His voice was low, firm.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling.

This wasn’t just an assassination.

This was an act of war.

And by the look in T’Challa’s eyes, whoever did this would not live to see another day.

In the aftermath of the bombing, Serena stood outside the wreckage, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Natasha stood beside her, her usual calm veneer cracking under the weight of what had just happened.

"You okay?" Natasha asked quietly.

Serena inhaled sharply.

"No."

Natasha nodded. "Me neither."

Just then, Felicita approached.

Serena braced herself.

"You look pale," her mother said simply.

"I’m fine."

Felicita studied her with razor-sharp scrutiny, her emerald-green eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Serena could feel it coming.

Her mother was too smart.

"Serena."

She clenched her jaw.

"Not now, Maman."

Felicita hesitated for a moment, noticing how Serena spoke in French, as she knew she only did that when she was stressed about something, but decided to drop it. She nodded before stepping back.

For now.

Nick returned from the ruins of the building, his face stone-cold.

"Interpol has footage," he said, looking between Serena and Natasha. "They’re saying it was Bucky Barnes."

Serena’s blood ran cold.

She turned to Natasha, whose expression was already shifting.

"Steve is going to lose his goddamn mind."

Serena took a deep breath, steadied herself.

Everything was falling apart.

And it was only going to get worse.

The smoke had barely cleared from the bombing when international agencies descended like vultures on the ruins of the UN summit.

Inside the makeshift command center, the atmosphere was tense—agents from the CIA, MI-6, and the Joint Counter-Terrorism Task Force (JCTTF) swarmed the space, sifting through intel, surveillance footage, and diplomatic reports.

Serena stood near the back of the room, arms crossed, her jaw locked as she observed the chaos unfold.

At the center of it all was Sharon Carter, flanked by JCTTF operatives, her posture rigid with authority as she spoke to a group of international representatives.

"Barnes is the primary suspect," Sharon was saying, her tone clipped and professional. "Interpol has linked him to the attack. We're issuing a manhunt immediately—"

"—That decision isn’t yours to make."

The voice cut through the room like a razor, low and commanding.

Every head turned toward the entrance.

Felicita stepped inside, her heels clicking deliberately against the marble floor, her emerald eyes cold and sharp as she scanned the room.

Sharon stiffened slightly but recovered quickly.

"With all due respect, ma’am, I’m leading this task force—"

"No, you’re not." Felicita’s voice was smooth as silk, yet unyielding. "You answer to me. Let’s not forget that the Central Intelligence Agency has the highest jurisdiction here. So, unless you want to spend the next six months buried in bureaucratic red tape, I suggest you remember who’s really in charge."

A heavy silence filled the air.

Serena kept her expression neutral, but internally?

She almost smirked.

She and her mother didn’t see eye-to-eye on much, but one thing was certain—
Felicita did not take orders. She gave them.

Sharon bit her lip, clearly restraining herself, before nodding sharply. "Understood, Director."

Felicita gave her a curt nod before turning toward the digital display screen.

"Now, let's find out who really set that bomb off."

Serena’s phone buzzed against her palm.

She glanced at the screen.

Steve.

She exhaled slowly, stepping away from the command center. Walking briskly through the corridors, she answered, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Where are you?" she asked immediately.

There was a brief pause before he replied, "That’s not important."

Serena’s stomach twisted.

"Steve—"

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, concerned.

Serena scanned the area outside the UN building, her eyes darting around the crowd. She knew he was watching, somewhere.

"I’m fine," she said. "But you’re calling because of Barnes, aren’t you?"

There was another pause before he answered, "You saw the footage."

Serena inhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, I saw it."

"Then you know Bucky didn’t do this," Steve said, his tone resolute.

Serena’s grip tightened around her phone.

"What I know is that his face is on Interpol’s most-wanted list and the entire intelligence community is moving to take him down. If you get involved in this, it will only make things worse."

There was a beat of silence before Steve spoke again.

"Are you saying you’d arrest me?"

Serena closed her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Steve—"

"Answer the question, Serena." His voice was quiet but firm.

She leaned against a nearby column, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"It’s not about you, it’s about the bigger picture," she said, her voice dropping slightly. "The entire world is watching. If you go after Barnes, it’s not going to look like you’re helping a friend—it’s going to look like an Avenger going rogue."

"You know me better than that," Steve replied, his frustration seeping into his voice.

"Do I?" Serena shot back. "Because the last time you went off-grid for someone, I was right there with you. And do you remember how that turned out?"

The line went silent.

She knew he remembered.

D.C.

The Triskelion.

The fall of SHIELD.

Back then, she had stood beside him, against her own agency, against her own superiors. She had burned bridges for him.

Because it was the right thing to do.

But now?

This wasn’t the same.

"This isn’t D.C.," she continued. "This isn’t SHIELD. If you interfere, they will hunt you down, Steve. Do you understand that?"

His breath hitched slightly, and she knew she was getting through to him.

But he wasn’t going to back down.

"If I don’t, who will?" he said quietly.

Serena closed her eyes.

Damn him.

"Then promise me," she murmured. "Promise me you won’t do anything reckless."

Steve didn’t answer right away.

And that silence told her everything.

Serena exhaled slowly, her heart tightening.

"Don’t make me regret trusting you, Steve."

His voice softened.

"You won’t."

And then the line went dead.

Serena stared at her phone for a long moment, a deep sense of unease settling into her chest.

She knew him too well.

And she had just lost him.

As Serena turned back toward the UN building, Maria was already approaching her, arms crossed.

"I’m guessing that was Rogers."

Serena didn’t bother answering.

Maria sighed, shaking her head. "He’s going after Barnes, isn’t he?"

Serena swallowed, keeping her face carefully blank.

"If he does, there’s no coming back from it," she murmured.

Maria studied her carefully.

"And where does that leave you?"

Serena glanced back at the smoking ruins of the UN building, at the intelligence officials swarming the area, at the massive rift forming between her personal life and her professional duty.

Her answer was simple.

"It leaves me right where I’ve always been."

Maria arched a brow.

"Which is?"

Serena lifted her chin.

"On the edge of the line."

Serena stood at the edge of the chaos, her mind spinning as she processed everything—the explosion, T'Chaka's death, Steve's reckless determination to find Barnes, and the sheer political firestorm she was now caught in.

Her stomach twisted with unease, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"Putain de bordel de merde… (Holy fucking shit)" she muttered under her breath, pacing slightly as she exhaled sharply.

"Merde, merde, merde… Je le savais… Je savais qu’il ferait ça." (Shit, shit, shit… I knew it… I knew he would do this).

Her heart pounded as she gritted her teeth.

"Pourquoi doit-il toujours tout compliquer? Pourquoi faut-il qu'il soit aussi putain d'entêté? Et moi? Pourquoi je—" (Why does he always have to complicate everything? Why does he have to be so fucking stubborn? And me? Why do I—)

"Serena."

She snapped her head up.

Nick stood a few feet away, arms crossed, concern etched across his face.

He knew her too well—knew that when she started speaking in rapid French, it meant she was spiraling.

"Tu as besoin de respirer, Serena, (You need to breathe, Serena)," he said, stepping closer, his tone gentle but firm. "Ça ne sert à rien de te rendre malade à cause de lui." (There's no point in making yourself sick because of him.)

Serena let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Il est déjà malade, Nick, (I'm already sick, Nick)," she shot back. "Il va courir après Barnes, il va se foutre dans la merde, et qu’est-ce que je suis censée faire? Juste le regarder faire?" (He's going to chase Barnes, he's going to get himself into trouble, and what am I supposed to do? Just watch him do it?)

Nick exhaled slowly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Il sait ce qu'il fait." (He knows what he's doing).

Serena let out a bitter scoff.

"Tu dis ça, mais la dernière fois qu’il a fait ce qu'il voulait, le putain de Triskelion est tombé du ciel." (You say that, but the last time he did what he wanted, the Triskelion fell from the fucking sky.)

Nick didn’t argue. He just held her steady, grounding her as she inhaled shakily, trying to pull herself back from the edge.

Before he could say anything else, a voice interrupted them.

"Serena, Nick."

They both turned as Felicita approached, her expression calm but unreadable.

"We just got word from MI-6."

Serena’s breath hitched slightly.

"About?"

Felicita folded her arms, her gaze sharp as she assessed her daughter.

"Everett just informed me that someone matching Barnes' description has been spotted heading toward Berlin."

Nick let out a low curse, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Serena felt her entire body stiffen.

Berlin.

Steve was going to be there.

And suddenly, she realized—

The lines weren’t just being drawn anymore.

They were being crossed.

And whether she liked it or not…

She was going to have to choose a side.

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. And as always, fill free to comment.

Chapter 34: Chapter 34

The Joint-Counter Terrorism Task Force command center in Berlin was a blur of controlled chaos.

Screens flickered with satellite footage, tactical maps, and live video feeds of the ensuing chase happening in real-time across the streets of Berlin. Serena stood with her arms crossed, her jaw clenched, eyes flicking between the displays.

Beside her, Alison, Nick’s wife, monitored a separate screen while their mother, Felicita, remained impassive as she listened to the coordinated efforts between MI-6, the CIA, and Everett Ross’s tactical unit.

"Alright, where’s your brother?" Felicita asked suddenly, barely looking away from the feed.

Serena let out an exasperated sigh and shrugged, her patience already thinning.

"Nick said he had to take care of something," Alison piped up, her voice edged with amusement.

Felicita rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Of course, he did."

Before Serena could question what, exactly, Nick was up to, one of the agents monitoring the surveillance feeds let out a sharp breath.

"We have a situation."

Serena turned back to the screens just in time to see Steve—chasing Barnes.

And Sam—chasing Barnes.

And…

Serena froze.

Because there were two other figures in pursuit as well.

One, clad in a sleek, all-black suit with retractable vibranium claws.

The other, in an entirely white vibranium suit, moving just as swiftly, just as lethally.

Her pulse skipped.

"Who the hell are they?" Everett muttered beside her, squinting at the screens.

No one in the room had an answer.

But Serena knew exactly who one of them was.

On the screens, the chaos unfolded in sharp, brutal precision.

Bucky ran, his metal arm reflecting the flashing police lights as he vaulted over moving cars, skidding across the pavement in an attempt to evade his pursuers.

The Black Panther was on him instantly, fast—unnaturally fast. He lunged with claws extended, catching Barnes just as he tried to mount a speeding motorbike.

Bucky retaliated, flinging him backward with sheer force—but Black Panther caught himself mid-air, landing gracefully before lunging again.

And then the man in white entered the fight.

Serena felt her breath catch.

The White Wolf, as the tactical team had dubbed him, was moving with precision—silent and efficient, flipping over a vehicle before engaging in a series of calculated attacks against Bucky.

Serena stared at the screen, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched the familiar movements, the way he anticipated Bucky’s moves, the sheer brutality in his strikes.

She knew.

She knew.

It was Nick.

The police barricades went up, blocking the streets as sirens echoed through the underpass.

Sam came in low, swooping just in time to send the attacking helicopter off course.

Bucky threw a sticky bomb onto the tunnel’s ceiling, causing a collapse of rubble behind them.

Steve barely made it through.

Black Panther landed on Bucky again, taking him down with sheer force just as Steve vaulted out of a stolen vehicle to intervene.

And then—

A metallic thud echoed.

Police surrounded them instantly, their weapons raised.

War Machine landed in the street, cutting off their escape.

"Stand down, now."

Serena exhaled sharply, watching as Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Black Panther were all forced onto their knees.

And then—

The White Wolf pulled off his helmet.

The Reveal

Felicita froze.

So did Everett.

So did Serena.

Nick Pierce stood in the middle of the street, clad in full vibranium armor, his face set in cold determination as he removed his helmet.

Steve’s expression was one of pure disbelief, while Sam mouthed an expletive.

"Your Highness."

The words snapped Serena’s focus back to the screen.

T’Challa had just removed his own helmet, revealing his face to the world.

Felicita let out a sharp breath, her gaze flickering between the two men—the Prince of Wakanda and her own son, both standing there, exposed.

Serena, however, couldn’t look away from Nick.

He turned slightly toward the cameras, his expression unreadable.

She had always known her brother was more than just a SEAL.

But she had never expected this.

And now, everyone—including Steve—knew exactly what Nick Pierce was capable of.

The armored convoy moved steadily through the streets of Berlin, weaving through traffic under heavy escort. Police motorbikes flanked the line of vehicles as helicopters hovered above, their spotlights tracking the path towards JCTC headquarters.

Inside one of the SUVs, the tension was palpable.

Steve sat rigid in his seat, across from Sam, his arms crossed tightly, his gaze unwavering as he tried to process everything that had just happened.

Sam, however, was less tense, more annoyed, though a quiet unease simmered under his expression.

Opposite them sat T’Challa, his jaw tight as he stared out the window, though his mind was clearly elsewhere.

And then there was Nick.

Nick Pierce, sitting beside T’Challa, clad in his all-white vibranium suit, though the helmet was now off, revealing a calm, impassive expression.

He looked completely at ease, as if he wasn’t currently being transported alongside his sister’s fiancé and a man accused of assassinating a world leader.

Steve had too many questions.

But Sam?

Sam had priorities.

"So, you like cats?"

Steve shot him a look. "Sam."

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat, and you don’t wanna know more?"

Steve sighed, rubbing his temple as T’Challa turned his gaze toward him.

"Your suit… it's vibranium?"

T’Challa’s eyes narrowed, his head turning slightly.

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations," he said, his tone measured. "A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king."

The words were laced with quiet fury.

T’Challa looked at Steve with unreadable intensity, his voice lower when he spoke again.

"So, I ask you… as both warrior and king… how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

Steve held his gaze, his jaw clenching. "I don’t know," he admitted honestly.

The SUV fell into silence.

At least until Nick scoffed.

"Le prince est sérieux comme toujours," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Vous êtes tous tendus."

Steve blinked. French.

Fluent French.

He knew Serena spoke French—often, actually, especially in moments of frustration or stress—but he had never heard Nick speak it with such ease.

T’Challa merely arched a brow, though there was the faintest hint of amusement.

"I understood that," T’Challa said dryly.

Nick smirked. "Did you?"

"Enough to know that you’re commenting on my ‘seriousness.’"

Nick shrugged, shifting slightly in his seat, his vibranium armor barely making a sound. "Just making an observation."

"And what is your observation, Hunter?" T’Challa countered, his voice cool.

Nick tilted his head, studying the Wakandan king, before offering a nonchalant answer.

"That this entire situation is fucked," he said plainly. "And that my sister is going to kill me when she sees this on the news."

Steve inhaled sharply. Serena.

She had no idea.

She had no idea that her brother—the same brother who suggested sky-diving for Steve’s bachelor party—had been operating as a vibranium-clad specialist, working outside of the law for who knows how long.

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted when Nick shifted his gaze toward him, his expression unreadable.

"Vous avez des questions, Cap?" (You have questions, Cap?)

Steve narrowed his eyes. "How long have you been doing this?"

Nick’s smirk faltered slightly.

"Long enough," he answered vaguely.

"That’s not an answer," Steve shot back.

Nick exhaled, leaning his head back against the seat. "Long enough to know that this doesn’t end well for any of us."

Steve studied him for a long moment.

There was more Nick wasn’t saying.

But right now, Steve had bigger problems—namely, figuring out how to keep Bucky from being executed on sight.

The mood inside JCTC headquarters was as tense as the situation itself. The sterile, gray-walled bunker hummed with activity, agents moving swiftly between secured rooms and monitoring feeds from around the world. The air was thick with an unspoken understanding—everything had changed.

Bucky’s containment pod was being transported down a secured corridor by a forklift, moving him toward psychological evaluation and extradition procedures.

Steve watched him go, his jaw set in frustration.

"What’s gonna happen to him?"

Everett Ross, standing nearby, turned toward him with an air of annoyed authority.

"Same thing that ought to happen to you," Ross said smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back. "Psychological evaluation and extradition."

Steve’s fists clenched, but he kept his expression neutral.

Sharon—who had been standing next to Ross—stepped forward slightly, glancing toward Steve before looking at Sam and T’Challa.

"This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander," she introduced.

Steve ignored Ross’s presence for a moment, as he had met him in passing at a past family gathering with Serena. His focus solely on Bucky’s pod disappearing around the corner.

"What about our lawyer?" Steve asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.

Ross let out a short, dry laugh.

"Lawyer. That’s funny."

Sam rolled his eyes, already unimpressed.

Ross gestured toward security agents as they approached. "See their weapons are placed in lockup," he ordered. "Oh, we’ll write you a receipt."

Sam scowled as one of the agents took his Falcon wings.

"I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that," Sam muttered.

Steve, however, was too distracted—his eyes locked onto Bucky’s through the glass of the containment pod.

The two men held the gaze for a moment—wordless understanding passing between them before Bucky was taken out of sight.

"You’ll be provided with an office instead of a cell," Ross continued as they walked through the high-security skywalk, his voice filled with faux courtesy. "Now, do me a favor, stay in it?"

T’Challa, his face impassive, replied evenly, "I don’t intend on going anywhere."

They were interrupted by Natasha’s arrival. She walked with purpose, expression unreadable as she approached them.

"For the record," she said, crossing her arms, "this is what making things worse looks like."

Steve barely glanced at her. "He's alive."

Before Natasha could respond, another voice cut through the air—cool, measured, but undeniably irritated.

"No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned."

Tony Stark.

Steve turned to see Tony pacing slightly, phone to his ear, looking about as stressed as he ever did.

"And, Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup."

Natasha sighed, shifting her weight.

"Try not to break anything while we fix this."

Tony ignored her, still on the phone. "Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously, you can quote me on that 'cause I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir."

Hanging up, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before turning toward Steve.

"‘Consequences’?" Steve echoed, watching him carefully.

Tony gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted," he stated bluntly. "Had to give him something."

Steve felt a rush of frustration building in his chest, but he kept it under control.

"I’m not getting that shield back, am I?" he asked evenly.

Natasha pursed her lips, her arms still crossed.

"Technically, it’s the government’s property," she said. "Wings too."

Sam shook his head, utterly unimpressed.

"That’s cold," he muttered.

Tony gave a half-shrug.

"Warmer than jail."

While all of this was happening, Serena was dealing with her own storm.

Across the hall, outside the secured intelligence center, Nick was being ripped apart in rapid French.

Felicita stood in front of him, arms crossed, her expression sharp as a blade.

"Nicholas Hunter de Fontaine Pierce!"

The full name.

That was never a good sign.

Nick sighed, rolling his shoulders slightly, but he didn’t dare interrupt his mother.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais?! Depuis quand es-tu dans une PUTAIN d’armure en vibranium?!"
(What are you doing?! Since when have you been in a FUCKING vibranium suit?!)

Nick exhaled slowly, his lips twitching at her phrasing. "Depuis un moment," he replied. (For a while.)

That answer earned him a sharp smack across the arm.

Alison—Nick’s wife—stood beside them, arms folded, nodding in complete agreement with Felicita’s actions.

"I second that," she said casually.

Nick winced, rubbing his arm. "Okay, that one actually stung."

"It was supposed to!" Felicita snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "Pourquoi, Nicolas? Pourquoi ai-je dû apprendre par surprise que mon fils était un foutu mercenaire?!"
(Why, Nicholas? Why did I have to learn by surprise that my son was a damn mercenary?!)

Nick sighed, shaking his head.

"Maman," he said evenly, "ce n’est pas du mercenariat."
(Mom, it’s not mercenary work.)

"Alors, c'est quoi?!" Felicita challenged.
(Then what is it?!)

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Serena—who had been watching the interaction—was suddenly yanked back to reality when she caught sight of Steve.

More importantly, the fact that Steve was standing in handcuffs.

A rush of emotions flooded her at once.

Anger. Concern. Disbelief.

He had done exactly what she told him not to do.

She had told him, begged him, not to interfere.

And now?

Now he was being detained like some criminal.

She felt her chest tighten, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"You are an idiot, Steve Rogers," she muttered under her breath.

Steve locked eyes with her briefly as he was escorted past, and in that brief moment, Serena saw it.

Exhaustion. Frustration. Guilt.

And she knew he saw her own mix of emotions too.

But right now?

Right now, there was nothing she could do.

As Steve disappeared down the corridor with Ross’s men, Serena exhaled sharply and pressed her fingers to her temple, willing away the headache forming behind her eyes.

Nick, noticing this, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Parle-moi, petite sœur," he said softly. (Talk to me, little sister.)

Serena shook her head, swallowing hard.

"Je vais tuer cet homme."
(I’m going to kill that man.)

Nick huffed a quiet laugh, though there was no real humor in it.

"Bien," he mused, "mais attends jusqu'à ce qu'il ne soit plus menotté."
(Fine, but wait until he’s no longer in handcuffs.)

Serena let out a small, dry chuckle, shaking her head.

Before she could say anything else, Felicita turned toward them, her expression tighter than before.

"We just got word," she announced, shifting the topic instantly. "A person resembling Barnes was spotted heading toward Berlin before his capture. Everett confirmed it."

Serena sighed heavily. "So now what?"

Felicita’s lips pressed together.

"Now?" she repeated, "Now, we prepare for whatever the hell comes next."

Steve sat alone in the dimly lit conference room, his hands clasped tightly together as he tried to make sense of everything. His shield was gone. His hands were still marked from the tight restraints. Bucky was behind glass. Sam was under guard. And now, he was stuck here, waiting to be told what his fate would be.

The door creaked open, and he didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Serena.

Her heels clicked against the tiled floor, the sharp sound echoing through the empty space.

She closed the door firmly behind her.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Her voice was low, controlled—but Steve could hear the barely restrained fury underneath it.

Steve sighed, finally looking up at her. "Serena—"

"No," she snapped, stepping closer, her arms crossed tightly. "I asked you not to do this. I told you that if you got involved, it would only make things worse. And what did you do? You ignored me. You went after Barnes anyway, and now you’re sitting here in a goddamn government facility in handcuffs."

Steve’s jaw tightened, the tension in his shoulders immediately increasing.

"I couldn’t let them kill him, Serena."

"And what about you, Steve?" she shot back, eyes flashing with anger. "What do you think happens next? Do you think they’re just going to let you walk out of here? Do you think Ross is just going to forget that Captain America disobeyed a direct order?"

Steve pushed himself up from his chair, his frustration finally boiling over.

"So what was I supposed to do?" he demanded, voice raising slightly. "Let them execute him? Stand back and do nothing?"

"Yes!" Serena yelled back, startling even herself with the force of her voice.

Steve stared at her, stunned into silence.

Serena exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, visibly trying to regain control.

"Steve, I get it. I do." Her voice was lower now, but it trembled with emotion. "You owe him your life. You see him as your responsibility. But do you ever stop to think about what that means for the people who care about you? Do you think about what it does to me?"

Steve rubbed a hand over his face, his own frustration mounting.

"Of course, I do."

"Do you?" Serena challenged, stepping closer. "Because I’m standing here, watching you throw yourself into the fire for a man who won’t even remember your name on a good day."

Steve’s eyes darkened, and Serena immediately regretted her words.

"That’s not fair." His voice was quiet, but firm.

Serena closed her eyes briefly, exhaling before shaking her head.

"Steve, I’m not saying you shouldn’t care," she said, voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I’m saying you shouldn’t have to do this alone. You always—always—throw yourself on the grenade, and one day, you won’t get back up."

Steve stepped forward, his expression softening slightly, but there was still tension in his stance.

"And what would you have me do, Serena?" he asked, his voice lower now, though there was an edge of tired frustration in it.

Serena looked at him for a long moment, her hands trembling slightly at her sides.

"I would have you pick me."

Steve’s breath caught.

"I would have you choose us," Serena continued, voice thick. "I would have you stop sacrificing yourself for people who wouldn’t do the same for you."

The words hung between them, heavy and unrelenting.

For a brief second, Steve saw it—something deeper lurking in her eyes. A hesitation, an emotion she wasn’t saying aloud.

"Serena..." His voice was softer now, concerned.

But she had already stepped back, blinking rapidly, as if trying to push down the threat of tears.

"Forget it," she muttered, turning away. "I shouldn’t have come here."

Steve reached for her instinctively, but she was already pulling the door open.

"Serena—"

"I need air."

And then she was gone.

Serena barely made it to the restroom before her stomach twisted violently.

She shoved open a stall, dropping to her knees just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the cold porcelain, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Her head swam.

Her chest ached.

And for the first time in a long time—she felt completely out of control.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to regain her composure, trying to shove down the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to swallow her whole.

A moment passed.

Then another.

And then, the sound of slow, steady footsteps echoed against the tile.

Serena’s heart stuttered when she heard a familiar voice.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

Her stomach dropped.

She slowly lifted her head, turning just enough to see Felicita standing outside the stall, arms crossed, watching her intently.

Her mother’s usual cold, composed expression was softer now—concern etched into her sharp features.

Serena swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the toilet, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"I…" she started, but the words died in her throat.

Felicita sighed, shaking her head as she stepped forward, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and holding it out.

"Take it," she said simply.

Serena hesitated before reaching out and taking it, wiping her mouth as she slowly sat back against the stall wall, her entire body shaking.

Her mother knelt in front of her now, not saying anything for a moment, just watching her carefully.

Then—softly, but firmly—

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Serena's breath caught.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

Her throat tightened.

And for the first time in her entire life, she saw something in her mother’s face that she wasn’t expecting.

Understanding.

Serena inhaled shakily, her green eyes searching Felicita’s face, looking for any trace of judgment, any sign of cold detachment.

But she didn’t find any.

Instead, her mother simply waited—giving her the space to speak on her own terms.

After what felt like a lifetime, Serena finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes."

Felicita exhaled slowly, nodding once, as if confirming something she had already suspected.

"Does Steve know?"

Serena swallowed.

Shook her head.

Felicita's lips pressed into a thin line, but her voice remained gentle.

"Why not?"

Serena let out a breathy, almost hollow laugh.

"Because he has enough on his plate," she admitted, her voice cracking slightly.

Felicita studied her for a long moment.

Then, to Serena’s shock, she reached out and tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear—a small, rare gesture of maternal affection.

"Chérie," Felicita murmured, voice softer than Serena had heard in years, "hiding this won’t make it easier."

Serena swallowed hard, looking away.

"I know."

Felicita nodded.

"Then what are you going to do?"

Serena didn’t have an answer.

She wasn’t sure she had ever felt this lost.

So, instead of answering, she simply closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, before whispering—

"I don’t know."

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Notes:

TW: Mentions of miscarriage.

The conference room was tense, a powder keg waiting to explode.

Inside, Tony sat across from Steve, doing his best to convince him that signing the Accords was the right move.

Outside, however, in the sprawling security wing, Serena stood with her arms crossed, surrounded by Everett, Nick, Alison, and Felicita. The room buzzed with hushed conversations, but Serena’s group was locked in a very different discussion.

"So, let me get this straight," Everett said, massaging his temples, looking like he already regretted asking. "Val has decided that she—"

"Needs 'the British guy' and 'the Jester' as the spokesmodels for her latest business venture," Alison finished, grinning as she scrolled through her phone.

Serena let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, this is going to be good."

"I don't even want to ask what this new 'business venture' is," Everett muttered, crossing his arms, his expression long-suffering.

Nick grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You really should. It’s better than the last one."

"Which was?" Felicita asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"A high-stakes poker cruise where the buy-in was two million," Serena said flatly, watching her mother’s expression carefully.

Felicita sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Of course."

Everett groaned, looking like he was seriously reconsidering his life choices. "What could possibly be worse than that?"

Alison beamed, turning her phone so they could all see the screen.

"How about a high-end men's fragrance line called ‘Kingmaker,’ featuring Lewis and Daniel as the faces of it?"

A silence fell over the group.

Then—

"No." Everett said immediately. "Absolutely not."

Nick cackled, shaking his head. "Oh, it’s happening."

"No, it is not," Everett corrected sharply, his voice carrying that tone of long-term suffering. "I already have to deal with Lewis showing up to MI6 functions acting like he owns the place—now you’re telling me Val wants him and Ricciardo to prance around in tailored suits, promoting some overpriced cologne?!"

"That is exactly what I’m saying," Alison chirped, completely unbothered.

Serena was grinning now, arms still crossed. "You know, I actually think it’s a genius move. I mean, who wouldn’t buy a fragrance endorsed by an F1 champion and the human embodiment of chaos?"

Everett looked like he was experiencing a deep personal crisis.

"And let’s be honest," Nick added, grinning, "you know Lewis and Danny are going to make it hilarious. Picture the marketing campaign. Daniel, just being Daniel, and Lewis, making every suit look like it was hand-crafted by the gods."

"Absolutely not," Everett muttered, shaking his head.

Felicita smirked, glancing at her brother-in-law. "I don’t know, Everett. I think I’d pay to see that."

Everett groaned audibly, looking skyward as if praying for patience.

"Oh, speaking of Val," Alison interrupted cheerfully, "Did you all see the video I found last week?"

Nick’s grin widened. "Oh no."

Serena perked up, eyes narrowing with interest. "What video?"

Alison’s smile turned devilish. "Oh, just a little something from the last Christmas party."

She pressed play on her phone.

The footage loaded, revealing the elegant chaos of Val’s living room—a luxurious space where everything was sophisticated, except for what was happening in the center of the room.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, clearly tipsy, was standing on the coffee table, clutching a microphone.

"I’LL FEEL LIKE NUMBER ONE!!!"

The unmistakable opening verse of ABBA’s ‘Super Trouper’ blasted through the speakers.

Val swayed dramatically, one arm extended, her signature sequined blazer slipping off her shoulder as she launched into the song with all the passion of a Broadway diva.

Behind her—in perfect synchrony—Nick and Lewis were acting as her backup singers.

Nick held an empty champagne flute like a microphone, belting backup vocals with obnoxious enthusiasm.

Lewis?

Lewis was wearing Val’s fur coat, a martini in one hand, shimmying dramatically like he was living his best life.

And then, the camera panned to Everett.

Sitting in an armchair, whiskey in hand, looking like he wanted the Earth to swallow him whole.

"I hate all of you," Everett muttered as the video played, rubbing his temples again.

Nick was howling with laughter, while Alison held up a finger, trying to suppress her own laughter.

"Wait, wait—just wait for it—"

The video continued.

Val turned toward Everett, pointing directly at him as she sang the next line with a sultry, exaggerated wink:

"Like I always dooooooo!!!"

The camera zoomed in on Everett’s completely deadpan reaction.

Serena lost it, bending over slightly, laughing so hard she had to grip the edge of the table.

"Oh my God—"

Felicita, who had seen a lot in her lifetime, actually let out a small amused snort.

"This is a masterpiece," Serena gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "Alison, I’m buying you dinner for this."

"No, no—wait!" Alison gasped, catching her breath. "We need the grand finale!"

The video cut to the moment Val attempted to execute a theatrical mic drop—

But instead of hitting the table, the microphone hit the champagne flute in Nick’s hand, causing it to shatter into his lap.

Lewis collapsed onto the couch, wheezing with laughter.

Nick, however, was cursing in rapid French, grabbing a napkin to dab at his suit, while Val dramatically posed like she had just performed at the Grammys.

The video ended.

Silence.

Then—

"DELETE THAT VIDEO," Everett ordered, voice flat.

Alison and Serena immediately turned away, cackling like hyenas.

"Not a chance," Alison grinned.

"I’m sending this to Lewis and Daniel," Serena announced, unlocking her phone.

Nick grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Make sure to send it to Tony, too. He’ll get a kick out of it."

"Don’t you dare," Everett warned.

Serena grinned wickedly. "Too late."

Everett sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. "I need a drink."

Felicita smirked slightly, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You should’ve thought of that before joining this family."

As the group descended into laughter, Serena felt something rare—

A brief, fleeting moment of normalcy in the midst of absolute chaos.

Of course, that normalcy would be short-lived.

Because outside that room, beyond the laughter, beyond the teasing—

The world was about to implode.

Serena smirked, but before she could say anything else—

An alert blared through the speakers.

The hallway lights flickered slightly as a robotic voice came over the intercom.

"Dr. Theo Broussard is now beginning the psychological evaluation of the suspect."

Serena’s smile immediately faded, her body tensing.

Steve was still in the conference room with Tony, no doubt arguing over the Accords.

And now, the interrogation was beginning.

She exhaled slowly, pushing her fingers through her hair.

"Alright," she murmured, forcing herself to focus.

Everett straightened up, all amusement gone now, shifting back into Deputy Task Force Commander mode.

"Everyone stay alert," Felicita said coolly, her CIA instincts kicking in.

Serena nodded, but a strange feeling lingered in her chest.

Something felt… off.

And for the first time in a long time, she had a sinking feeling—

That something was about to go very, very wrong.

The flickering light in the control room reflected off the tense expressions of everyone inside. Serena stood near her mother, her arms crossed tightly as her gaze flickered across the large monitors. Her stomach was a knot of nerves, but she shoved it down, forcing herself to focus.

Across the room, she noticed Sharon Carter standing with Steve and Sam, speaking in hushed voices.

Serena’s jaw tightened, and a slight frown crossed her face.

Of course, Sharon was in the thick of things.

She turned away, choosing to ignore it. There were more important things happening right now.

The monitors switched over to the interrogation room, where Dr. Theo Broussard was preparing to begin Bucky Barnes’ evaluation. Serena inhaled sharply, watching the screen intently.

Something was wrong.

She couldn’t explain it—but the unease in her stomach twisted tighter.

"Can you confirm your name?" Dr. Broussard asked smoothly, sitting across from Bucky.

Bucky’s metal fingers twitched slightly. He said nothing for a long moment before finally answering.

"James Buchanan Barnes."

Serena exhaled slowly, watching every subtle shift in his posture.

She didn't know Barnes personally. Not really. She had only ever known of him—through Steve.

And yet…

Something about the way he was sitting. The way his shoulders were tensed but his eyes seemed distant…

He wasn’t comfortable.

He wasn’t okay.

Serena’s fingers twitched, but she stayed silent.

"Do you know where you are?" Dr. Broussard continued.

Bucky’s blue eyes flickered slightly. "Berlin."

There was a pause.

Then—

The lights flickered once.

Twice.

And then—

Everything went dark.

"What the hell?" Everett Ross snapped, slamming his hands on the control panel.

The monitors all went black.

"We just lost the feed," one of the techs called out, rapidly typing on their keyboard.

An alert began blaring through the loudspeakers, followed by the sharp, static-laced voice of a German officer:

"Der Ostflügel ist kompromittiert. Ich wiederhole: Der Ostflügel ist kompromittiert." (The east wing is compromised. I repeat: the east wing is compromised.)

Everett’s eyes widened, and he immediately switched into command mode.

"Evac all civilians! Get me a perimeter around the building, and gunships in the air!"

Serena barely registered Natasha’s voice when she spoke.

"Please tell me you brought a suit."

Tony’s response was dry, despite the chaos unraveling around them.

"Sure did. It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button. I’m an active-duty non-combatant."

Serena rolled her eyes, but her focus was elsewhere.

Bucky was loose.

The elevator doors slid open, and Sharon Carter strode forward.

"Follow me."

Serena caught her mother’s eye, seeing Felicita’s unimpressed expression. She could practically hear her mother’s thoughts—Sharon really thought she ran the place.

But Serena didn’t have time to care.

Because she was already bolting.

The halls were a mess of chaos.

Security officers were shouting. Gunfire echoed somewhere down the corridor.

Serena ran, her boots slamming against the tiled floor, following the trail of injured or unconscious guards.

She wasn’t thinking.

She should have been thinking.

But the adrenaline was already coursing through her veins.

The pregnancy didn’t even cross her mind.

She rounded a corner—

And suddenly, there he was.

Barnes.

Standing at the far end of the hallway, staring at her.

Serena skidded to a halt, her breath sharp and shallow.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then—

Bucky lunged forward.

Serena reacted instantly.

She ducked just as his metal fist swung for her head, pivoting on her heel and delivering a sharp elbow strike to his ribs.

Bucky barely flinched.

Instead, he caught her wrist and yanked her forward.

She twisted, using his momentum to flip herself onto his shoulders and tried to slam him into the ground.

But he was strong.

Too strong.

He caught her mid-air, spun—

And threw her against the wall.

Serena gasped sharply as her back collided with the concrete, but she forced herself to move.

She couldn’t stop.

She launched forward again, striking fast and hard, landing three quick hits to his torso.

But then—

His metal hand clamped around her throat.

Serena gasped.

Fuck.

Bucky lifted her off the ground, his grip tightening.

Serena clawed at his wrist, gasping for air as he slammed her against the wall again.

Her vision blurred at the edges—

But just when she thought he would crush her windpipe—

Something in his expression shifted.

For half a second, his eyes flickered with recognition.

Serena didn’t know why.

But it was enough.

She wrenched her knee up, slamming it into his side and forcing his grip to loosen.

She hit the ground hard, gasping for breath.

But before she could move—

Bucky’s metal arm reared back—

And then he punched her with full force.

Serena felt everything go white.

She stumbled backward, her head ringing, before he grabbed her again—

And this time—

He threw her down the stairs.

The impact was instantaneous.

Pain erupted through her body as she tumbled down the sharp concrete steps.

She barely registered her head smacking against the edge—

Or the crack of her ribs.

But then—

She felt it.

Something inside of her shifted painfully.

And then—

Warmth.

Sticky.

Spreading.

Pooling beneath her.

No.

Serena barely had the strength to lift her shaking hand—

But when she did, she saw it.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

Her vision swam.

Her chest tightened.

Her body curled in on itself, instinctively protecting something that was already slipping away.

She tried to breathe.

But she couldn’t.

Because she knew.

She knew.

The baby was gone.

And she was lying in a pool of her own blood.

She barely heard the shouting voices in the distance.

Barely noticed the rushed footsteps coming her way.

Her eyes fluttered.

And then—

Everything went black.

Meanwhile

Steve’s shoes pounded against the tile floor as he sprinted through the corridors, the alarms blaring in his ears. He barely registered the chaos around him, barely heard the shouting from security teams or the distant gunfire. All he could think about was getting to Bucky.

But then—

He saw her.

His breath caught.

Serena lay at the base of the stairs, crumpled and motionless, a pool of crimson spreading around her.

Steve stumbled to a halt, his heart slamming into his ribcage.

"No—"

He moved before he could think, his shield clattering onto the floor as he dropped to his knees beside her.

"Serena?" His voice was raw, barely above a whisper as he touched her face, fingers trembling. Her skin was cold.

She was too still.

The moment his hands pressed against her abdomen; they came away slick with blood.

So much blood.

Steve felt something inside of him break.

"No, no, no—" His voice shook as he gently lifted her, cradling her against his chest.

Her head lolled to the side, her eyelashes fluttering weakly.

She was still alive.

But barely.

"Serena, honey, come on—" Steve whispered, his voice frantic, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath shallow and ragged.

Then, slowly, her eyelids fluttered open.

Her gaze was unfocused, but she saw him.

And for a fleeting second, she smiled.

"Steve..."

It was barely audible.

Then, her body went limp.

Steve’s throat closed.

"No, no, stay with me—!"

He shook her gently, but her head tilted to the side, her body completely unresponsive.

His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around her.

This was his fault.

She told him to stay out of it.

She warned him.

And now she was dying in his arms.

"Shit!" His voice cracked. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't—

Then—

"What the hell happened?"

The voice was sharp, frantic.

Steve barely registered the sound of footsteps before a blur of white and silver armor appeared in the dim light.

Nick.

He had his helmet off, his face etched with panic as he skidded to a halt, eyes locking onto his sister’s bloodied form.

His expression changed instantly.

From panic to something terrifying.

Nick’s jaw clenched. His breath shuddered. But his hands—his hands were deadly steady as he moved forward, dropping to the ground.

"Give her to me."

Steve didn't move.

"Steve—GIVE HER TO ME!"

Reluctantly, he did.

Nick caught her easily, adjusting her against his chest like she was weightless.

His hand pressed gently against the wound, checking her pulse, his jaw locked so tight his teeth might shatter.

"Nick—" Steve started.

Nick’s head snapped up.

The look he gave Steve wasn’t friendly.

It was venomous.

"This is your fault."

Steve flinched.

"You should’ve stayed out of it," Nick hissed, his voice dangerously low.

The silver glow from his vibranium armor illuminated the sharp anger in his gaze.

"I told you—SHE told you. And now?" He gestured to Serena’s lifeless form in his arms. "Look what you fucking caused!”

Steve didn’t need to be told.

He saw every detail.

The blood seeping through her clothes.

The unnatural paleness of her skin.

Her hand, limp, fingers curled weakly like she had been reaching for something.

Nick took a slow breath, his voice dropping even lower.

"This is your one pass."

Steve’s eyes flickered.

"What?"

Nick lifted Serena carefully, adjusting her weight, his grip tightening protectively.

"This is your one pass to get by me," Nick said, his tone deadly even. "To get Barnes out alive."

Steve’s breath caught.

Nick’s dark eyes didn’t waver.

"You go after Barnes, save him, do what you have to do—"

His fingers twitched slightly, as if his own restraint was slipping.

"—because if you weren’t holding her when I found her, I wouldn’t be letting you walk away right now."

Steve swallowed thickly.

Nick's anger was suffocating—but beneath it, there was something worse.

Something fragile.

Fear.

He was scared.

Scared that Serena wasn’t going to wake up.

Scared that he might have just lost his sister.

And somewhere deep inside, Steve knew—

Nick wasn’t wrong.

This was his fault.

His stomach twisted painfully.

Then—

Nick turned.

"I’m getting her out of here," he said, not looking back.

And just like that—

Serena was gone.

And Steve was alone.

For a moment, he couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Because he just lost her.

And he didn’t even know if she was coming back.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or ideas.

Chapter 36: Chapter 36

The world was quiet when Serena’s eyes fluttered open.

The dim lights above her blurred into a halo, and her body felt like lead.

Something was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

The sterile scent of hospital antiseptic burned in her nose, and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor echoed hollowly in her ears.

It took her a moment to process where she was.

And then, everything came crashing back.

A Mother’s Comfort

Felicita was there.

Sitting beside her, silent but unwavering.

Her usually composed features were tired, lined with something Serena had rarely seen on her mother’s face—

Worry.

The moment Serena stirred, Felicita leaned forward, brushing a hand against her forehead.

"You’re awake," her mother murmured, relief seeping into her voice.

Serena swallowed, her throat raw.

"What happened?"

Felicita hesitated.

"The doctor will explain."

As if on cue, the door creaked open.

A middle-aged German doctor in a white coat stepped inside, flipping through his clipboard.

"Miss Pierce," he greeted, his voice calm and professional.

But Serena already knew.

She felt it in her bones.

The Truth She Already Knew

"Your injuries were extensive," the doctor continued.

"You suffered blunt force trauma, internal bleeding. We were able to stabilize you, but..."

He hesitated, glancing at Felicita before looking back at Serena.

"The infant you were carrying didn’t survive the trauma and internal bleeding you received. I’m sorry Miss Pierce, but you miscarried.”

The words hung in the air like a dagger.

"Miscarried."

Serena felt like the wind had been knocked from her lungs.

Her hands instinctively moved to her stomach.

Empty.

Cold.

Gone.

The doctor kept talking, but Serena wasn’t listening anymore.

Something inside her fractured.

The doctor’s voice turned into static.

The weight of the word miscarriage buried itself deep in her chest.

When the doctor finally left, the door clicking shut behind him, the silence in the room felt suffocating.

Breaking Down

"This is my fault."

The whisper was barely audible, but Felicita heard it.

"Serena—"

"I was so stupid."

Serena’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

"I should have never gone after Barnes."

Felicita inhaled sharply, softening.

Her daughter—the woman who had built walls out of steel, who never let anyone see her break—

Was breaking.

Serena let out a shaky breath, her vision blurring.

"I lost—"

Her voice caught.

Her hands trembled.

And for the first time in years, Felicita reached out and held her daughter.

Serena collapsed into her mother’s arms.

And sobbed.

The Ones Who Stayed

Some time later, the door opened again.

This time, it was Everett.

And behind him—Nick and Alison.

The relief on their faces was immediate.

"Thank God," Alison whispered, stepping forward and brushing Serena’s hair back like a sister would.

Nick, however, was stone-faced.

His sharp dark eyes scanned her, as if taking in every bruise, every sign of pain, before he finally spoke.

"You scared the shit out of me, Ser."

His voice was low, strained with something unspoken.

Serena let out a small, weak chuckle.

"Not the first time."

Nick huffed, shaking his head, but there was no humor in his expression.

Everett, standing by the door with his hands in his pockets, finally spoke.

"Don’t ever do that again, kid."

Serena gave him a tired smile.

"No promises."

The 36-Hour Ultimatum

After everyone had gone, except Felicita, there was a knock on the door.

Serena already knew who it was.

"You look like hell."

Serena sighed. Natasha.

The redhead closed the door behind her, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.

"Ross is giving us 36 hours."

Serena arched a brow.

"To do what?"

"Find Steve, Sam, and Barnes before they do."

Serena inhaled sharply.

"I wasn’t in the loop."

Natasha shrugged.

"Sharon was."

Serena’s stomach twisted at the name.

Natasha hesitated for a second before adding—

"She also helped them escape."

Serena’s jaw locked.

Natasha didn’t stop.

"Oh, and she also gave Steve his shield back."

Serena exhaled slowly.

"And?"

Natasha tilted her head.

"And she kissed him."

Silence.

Serena’s expression didn’t change, but Natasha saw the shift in her eyes.

"You’re trying to manipulate me into helping you find them," Serena said flatly.

Natasha shrugged.

"I don’t have to manipulate you, Serena. You’re already angry."

She wasn’t wrong.

Serena Pierce is Gone. The Viper Returns.

By the time Serena was discharged, something in her had changed.

She was done playing nice.

She made her way back to JCTC headquarters, where Everett was still coordinating the search efforts.

She walked straight up to him.

"Do you still have my old supplies?"

Everett arched a brow.

"You’re seriously asking me that?"

Serena held his gaze.

"I need them."

Everett let out a slow breath before finally nodding.

"Follow me."

He led her down a hallway, through a security checkpoint, and into a secured weapons locker.

Inside—

There it was.

Her original CIA Viper suit.

Not the updated Avengers one.

Not the one she wore when she was on STRIKE.

Not even the one she wore in DC during the fall of the Triskelion.

This was the original.

The dark green tactical bodysuit, reinforced in the arms and legs, with compartments for her signature venom-coated weapons.

The suit that made her a legend.

That made her a ghost.

That made her Viper.

Serena ran her fingers over the fabric, feeling the weight of the past.

It had been years since she had worn this.

Since Baghdad.

Since she had nearly died at the hands of the Winter Soldier.

Now—she was hunting him.

She pulled the suit off the rack and turned to Everett.

"It’s time to remind them who I am."

And for the first time in years—

The Viper was back.

The air inside JCTC Headquarters was thick with tension.

And Serena felt all eyes on her.

As she walked through the halls, personnel turned their heads. Some whispered. Some stared. Some looked uneasy.

It had been years since anyone had seen her like this.

Dressed in dark green, combat-ready, exuding nothing but cold, calculated danger.

Her old Viper suit fit like a second skin. The Kevlar-lined bodysuit, reinforced at the joints, made for one purpose: speed and lethality.

The sleek tactical belt at her waist held two holstered pistols, their ammunition tipped with venom-laced bullets. A knife sat secured against her thigh, her signature fang-blade, laced with the same neurotoxin.

This wasn’t the polished, enhanced Avengers version of Viper.

This was who she had been before she ever became an Avenger.

Before Steve. Before SHIELD. Before everything.

This was who she had been when she worked in the dark.

And judging by the uneasy glances being thrown her way—everyone knew it.

Serena barely acknowledged them as she marched forward, focused only on one thing.

Finding Steve.

Bringing him in.

No distractions.

No second thoughts.

Serena rounded a corner, her strides purposeful, when a familiar figure stepped into her path.

Sharon.

The woman barely had a chance to react before Serena halted in front of her, staring her down with an expression that sent a chill through the air.

Serena didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, measured—dangerous.

"You must think you’re very clever, don’t you?"

Sharon’s posture stiffened.

"Serena—"

"Shut up."

It wasn’t a command.

It was a death sentence waiting to be carried out.

The air between them turned suffocating.

"I should be very clear about something, Carter," Serena continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

"I don’t like you. I never have."

Sharon swallowed, but Serena wasn’t finished.

"I’ve been watching you since the day you leapt at the chance to move next to Steve in DC like some wide-eyed rookie desperate for a fairy tale. I let it slide. But now?"

She took a step closer.

Sharon didn’t move.

"You compromised this operation. You aided and abetted fugitives. You helped him."

She didn’t need to say Steve’s name.

Sharon knew.

"So let me make one thing very clear—if I find out you so much as breathe in his direction again? I’ll remind you why people used to be afraid of me."

The way she said it—her voice so eerily cold and sharp, so utterly devoid of warmth—

Sharon’s blood ran cold.

Because at that moment, Serena didn’t sound like herself.

She sounded like Felicita.

The Felicita de Fontaine Pierce who had built an empire of fear.

The Felicita who had shattered careers and orchestrated takedowns with a single sentence.

Serena gave Sharon one last look.

Then—she turned and walked away, leaving Sharon rooted to the spot, her face pale.

By the time Serena entered Everett Ross’s office, she had already smoothed out her expression.

Nick was standing near the desk, suited up in his White Wolf armor, arms crossed as Alison fixed a strap on his gauntlet.

"You better not do anything stupid," Alison murmured, adjusting the fastenings. "You’re not as young as you used to be."

Nick huffed, rolling his eyes. "I’m still younger than Ross."

"Not the flex you think it is, babe," Alison shot back.

Nick scoffed. "I’m still faster than you."

"Not with that knee," Alison countered smoothly.

Nick mockingly clutched his chest. "Right to the heart, Ali. Right to the heart."

Everett, who had been reviewing footage from the escape, glanced up and let out a low whistle as he took in Serena’s appearance.

"Well, if it isn’t the OG coming out of retirement," he mused.

Serena smirked slightly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Guess Berlin has a way of pulling me back in."

Felicita, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke.

"Both of you."

Her cold, sharp gaze flickered between her children.

"Watch Stark. He’s unpredictable."

Nick snorted.

"That’s putting it lightly."

Felicita ignored him, eyes locked on Serena now.

"He’s high on my shit list," she continued, her voice like steel, "especially after the way he spoke to me at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. You remember that, don’t you?"

Serena did.

Tony, drunk and cocky, making some half-assed joke about the intelligence community being full of manipulative bureaucrats—then turning to Felicita and saying, "No offense, sweetheart."

Her mother had narrowed her eyes that night but hadn’t dignified him with a response.

She had, however, ruined a billion-dollar defense contract for Stark Industries a month later.

"Duly noted," Serena said smoothly.

“What else did he call you that night?” Everett asked. “I remember Val cracking up laughing when she heard it.”

Felicita arched a sharp brow.

"He called me a cold-hearted bureaucratic overlord."

Serena smirked.

"And?"

Felicita deadpanned. 

"And I was sitting right behind him."

T’Challa let out a low chuckle, while Everett shook his head.

"You do have a reputation, Director," Everett noted.

"A well-earned one." T'Challa added.

As Serena, Nick, and T’Challa made their way toward the exit, Serena turned slightly.

"Oh, before I go—"

Felicita and Everett both looked up.

"Carter was the one who gave Rogers and Wilson their gear. She knows where they went."

Everett’s expression darkened.

Felicita exhaled slowly, her features unreadable. "Of course she did."

Serena didn’t linger.

With one last glance toward her mother and uncle—

She walked through the door.

And into the coming war.

The air in the bunker was heavy.

As Serena, Nick, and T’Challa entered the strategic meeting room, the first thing Serena noticed was the new recruit.

A kid.

Standing next to Tony, dressed in a red-and-blue suit, the news had already been calling him Spider-Man.

Serena narrowed her eyes.

"You brought a child?" she asked, deadpan. "That’s your recruit? A literal child?"

Tony smirked, unbothered.

"You used to be the youngest person on the team for a while, Barbie."

Serena shot him a glare.

"And somehow, I’m still more mature than all of you."

Nick snorted.

Rhodey chuckled.

“Where’d you get this kid anyways?” She continued as she crossed her arms, looking the kid up and down.

“Queens.” Tony responded cooly.

The kid, however, was too busy staring.

At her.

Serena turned, brows raising slightly.

"Something wrong, Queens?" she asked, voice dry.

Peter Parker snapped out of it instantly, eyes going wide.

"Oh my God, you know where I’m from?!"

Serena blinked.

"I—"

"You’re Viper! I mean, wow, you’re, like, the Viper. You were one of the first covert operatives in the Avengers, like because you still were running black ops! And you used to work for SHIELD before it collapsed! And you were in the CIA—which is so crazy, by the way, because, like, my history teacher totally talks about how you were one of the youngest agents to ever reach a senior level—oh! And that mission in Iraq—"

Serena groaned.

"Tony?"

"Yes darling?"

Serena's eye twitched. "What did you do?"

Tony, completely amused, smirked.

"Oh, you’re his favorite. I might’ve mentioned you a few times."

"A few?" Serena glared.

"Okay, more than a few."

Peter continued, oblivious.

"You’re so cool! I mean, your combat style? Insane. Like, it’s this mix of Krav Maga, Muay Thai, and something else I can’t even identify. And your knives! Did you really coat them in venom? Because that’s, like, the most terrifyingly awesome thing I’ve ever heard—"

Serena pressed her fingers to her temples.

"Jesus Christ."

Nick, of course, was loving this.

He was already pulling out his phone, recording the whole thing.

Serena immediately noticed.

"Nicholas—don’t you dare."

Too late.

Nick sent the video off with a tap before looking up innocently.

"Oops."

Serena frowned. "Who'd you send it to?"

"Ali...and Lewis." Nick said with a smirk.

Serena groaned.

Nick grinned.

"I hate you," she muttered.

"Love you too, sis."

Peter, however, was still buzzing with excitement.

"So, is it true you once beat up five mercenaries in an elevator with your hands tied?"

Serena slowly turned back to Tony.

"Stark. Control your child."

Tony shrugged.

"Kid’s got enthusiasm. I like that."

Serena exhaled sharply.

"I need a drink."

"Alright, children, let’s focus."

After far too many minutes of Serena being annoyed beyond reason, Tony finally turned back to the real reason they were here.

"Alright, listen up." Tony flicked the holographic projection forward. "We’ve got Rogers, Wilson, Barnes, Barton, Maximoff, and Lang inbound. Thanks to our dear friend Agent Carter—" Serena rolled her eyes at this —we know they’re headed for a jet at this location. Our job? Stop them."

Vision nodded.

"I assume the goal is to contain them, not harm them?"

Tony sighed.

"In a perfect world, yeah. But let’s be honest—we’re gonna have to hit back if they push."

Serena stayed silent.

She knew this was necessary.

She knew that, logically, this was the right move.

But the thought of fighting Steve, hurting him—

Her stomach twisted.

She loved him. God, she loved him.

She'd kill for him...and she had.

She'd die for him...and she almost did...many times.

But she knew what would happen if they didn’t stop him.

Ross would send someone worse.

She wouldn’t let that happen.

She wouldn’t let them hunt Steve like a fugitive.

"Airport’s being evacuated as we speak," Rhodey added. "We’ll have it all to ourselves soon enough."

Serena exhaled, clenching her fists.

T’Challa stood a few feet away, silent.

He didn’t need to ask what she was thinking.

She could already feel his gaze.

Finally, she spoke.

"I don’t know if I can do this."

T’Challa’s voice was calm, but firm.

"You must."

She swallowed.

"I love him, T’Challa."

"I know."

Serena closed her eyes briefly.

"I just—I don’t want to fight him. I don’t want to be the reason he—"

"Then do not be his enemy," T’Challa said evenly. "But do not let your love for him cloud your judgment."

Serena let out a slow, shaky breath.

"You know, for a king, you really are annoyingly wise."

T’Challa smirked slightly.

"I have had years of practice."

Serena exhaled, straightened her shoulders, and turned away from the railing.

"Let’s get this over with."

As they moved toward the transport, Serena found herself gripping her weapons tightly.

Her knives, coated in deadly snake venom, rested securely against her thighs.

Her dual pistols sat snug in their holsters.

And yet, she felt unarmed.

Because this wasn’t a mission she wanted to be on.

Her brother was on one side.

The man she loved was on the other.

And she?

She was standing in the middle.

A Viper, caught between two worlds.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or ideas.

Chapter 37: Chapter 37

The hangar's concrete floor echoed with the sounds of boots, jet engines powering down, and the rustling of suits and armor. Steve strode with intent under the cavernous ceiling, heading for the Quinjet parked at the far end of the private runway. His expression was hard, grim — until an electro-disabler thunked onto the chopper beside him, disabling it with a short burst of static. He looked up, jaw tensing.

Iron Man and War Machine descended.

"Wow," Tony Stark said, hovering with casual superiority. "It's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?"

"Definitely weird," Rhodey added, just behind him.

Steve exhaled. "Hear me out, Tony. That doctor — the psychiatrist — he's behind all of this."

Before Tony could answer, a blur of movement slammed down near them, sleek and black. T'Challa. The Black Panther.

"Captain," he greeted coldly.

"Your highness," Steve replied, voice tight.

Tony landed in front of him. "Anyway. Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy."

Tony's smirk vanished. "Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday."

"There are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't."

Natasha's voice came from behind them. "Steve... you know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

Steve looked to her, and something in his shoulders faltered — just slightly. But then Tony raised his voice.

"All right, I've run out of patience." He turned his head. "Underoos!"

In a flash of red and blue, a web shot through the air, yanking Steve's shield away and binding his hands. Steve stumbled slightly before regaining his footing.

"Nice job, kid," Tony called.

Peter Parker landed in a crouch, then stood awkwardly. "Thanks! Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better — it's just the new suit. It's, uh, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's perfect. Thank you."

Tony waved him off. "We don't need a conversation."

"Okay. Cap—Captain! Big fan. I'm Spider-Man."

Steve barely responded, his eyes shifting to someone behind Tony. His mouth opened slightly, confusion and disbelief flickering across his face. Serena.

She stood there in her original dark green Viper suit — a striking, tactical thing that hugged her frame like a second skin, reinforced with venom-tipped weapons and the weight of a past Steve hadn't seen since before Sokovia. She stood with T'Challa and Nick, silent and still as stone, though her eyes locked with his.

It gutted her.

He couldn't believe she was there — not with them. Not with Stark.

"You've been busy," Steve said to Tony, gaze flicking away from Serena with effort.

"And you've been a complete idiot," Tony shot back. "Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave — a safe place. I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you signed," Steve bit out.

The words felt like bullets to Serena's chest.

Tony raised a hand. "All right. We're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. Now. Because it's us — or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite."

A silent beat.

"Come on."

Steve's earpiece crackled.

"We found it," Sam said. "Their Quinjet's in Hangar Five. North runway."

Steve raised his bound hands. "All right, Lang."

A gust of wind as Ant-Man enlarged beside him, cutting the webs and tossing the shield back.

Peter raised a hand. "Hey, guys—something—"

BOOM.

A shockwave echoed as two teams collided. Serena's world narrowed. She saw Steve charging forward — and she ran, intercepting him. They clashed with a sound like thunder.

He caught her wrists. "Serena—no."

Her voice cracked. "You already hurt me."

"I don't want to fight you."

"But you did. You chose Barnes over me. Over everything we built."

They broke apart. She threw a punch, he blocked it. He shoved, she parried. It wasn't a graceful fight — not between them. It was bitter, aching, restrained pain. Neither wanted to land the final blow. Eventually, she got tackled by Clint, allowing for Steve to flee.

"Really Clint?" She asked in annoyance.

"Sorry Ser, you know I don't mean it." He explained, as they wrestled on the ground. "By the way, my kids loved the Christmas gifts you sent."

A small smirk came onto her face, as she kicked Clint off her, sending him flying across the tarmac. "Well, I'm glad it was money well spent."

Across the runway, chaos unfolded.

T'Challa raged at Barnes, throwing clawed blows that barely missed Bucky's throat, while Nick slammed into Steve and began to fight him with calculated strikes, his vibranium suit taking only slight damage, but no matter how much Steve could fight him, vibranium vs. vibranium tended to clash.

"You hurt her!" Nick shouted at Steve between strikes. "She trusted you!"

"I'm trying to stop something worse!"

"You've already started it!" Nick roared.

Serena fell back, breath heaving. She looked up just in time to see Steve staring at her — not with anger, not with hate — but with heartache. As she looked away, that's when she noticed Wanda. 

Wanda stood at the far end of the hangar tunnel, her fingers glowing scarlet, her eyes locked on Vision as he was tangled up with Clint and Sam.

God she did not want to fight her.

In fact, since Sokovia, her and Wanda had gotten rather close. Despite Wanda showing Serena her worst fear, Serena and Wanda became friends quickly. So much so, that Wanda was going to be a bridesmaid in Serena's wedding.

"You don't want to do this," Serena said, stepping forward, eyes narrowing. Her voice was low but carried power, sharp as a blade.

Wanda looked at her, tense. "Neither do you."

But they both moved at the same time.

A blast of red energy surged from Wanda's hand. Serena dodged left, flipped over a stray tire, and launched a pair of venom-tipped throwing knives. Wanda threw up a hex shield that shimmered as the knives bounced away with a hiss.

"Stop it!" Wanda shouted. "You don't understand!"

"Don't I?" Serena snapped, circling her. "You think I want to be here, fighting the people I love?"

Wanda's face flickered with pain, but she sent out a pulse of telekinetic force. Serena backflipped, landed hard, and rolled, scraping her arm but never stopping.

"You're hurting Steve," Wanda said.

"You think this isn't hurting me?" Serena shouted back, lunging forward and locking Wanda in hand-to-hand. Their powers clashed — red energy and sheer skill. Wanda tried to twist Serena's mind, but something inside the Viper resisted.

"I lost something because of all this," Serena growled, eyes wild.

Wanda paused, something in her expression changing — maybe realization, maybe guilt.

But the pause cost her.

Serena struck hard, sweeping Wanda's legs and pinning her to the ground. A blade hovered near Wanda's throat, trembling.

"You should've stayed out of this," Serena whispered.

Wanda's eyes filled with tears. "So should you."

Peter zipped by. "Ms. Viper—your moves are insane! Is that venom?! Oh my God—Mr. Stark, she's terrifying!"

Tony cackled in his suit. "Yeah, Spider-Kid, welcome to the show. That's Viper. Don't let the Barbie face fool you — she'll paralyze you in two hits."

"Nick," Serena hissed over the comms, dodging an arrow from Clint, making her get off of Wanda. "I'm going to murder you for sending Lewis that video...right after I murder Stark."

Nick's laughter came back through the static. "He almost responded immediately. He says you're 'impossibly hot' when you're mad."

"I hate you both," she muttered, ducking a concussive blast from Sam, flying above.

But none of it — not Peter, not Tony, not the quips — dulled the ache she felt every time Steve looked at her and she had to pretend she didn't love him. That she didn't dream of waking up beside him, instead of chasing him across airport runways with blood still on her hands and grief in her chest.

"Serena!" Steve shouted across the tarmac, as he and the rest of his team started running toward the Quinjet in the hangar, just before Vision descended from above, cutting off their path.

"Captain Rogers," Vision intoned, "you must surrender now."

The two teams stood across the tarmac from each other. Both waiting for the other to move. Serena felt her anxiety levels begin to raise at the sight before her.

This wasn't going to end well.

Sam looked to Steve. "What do we do, Cap?"

"We fight."

That's when Steve's team started walking toward them, and in response, so did Tony's. Steve's team then started running, as did Tony's team.

"They're not stopping." Peter said with fear.

"Neither are we, Kid." Tony explained, as everyone broke out into a full sprint.

But with every step, it felt like something inside Serena was dying all over again.

Not from rage. Not from betrayal.

From heartbreak.

When they collided, it was like and explosion. Each person spared no expense beating the other to a pulp. Neither cared for the other's well-being in that moment, the only thing that each person saw was red. They all saw red. When she had a chance to catch her breath, Serena climbed on top of a catwalk to survey the chaos, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

Chaos still reigned.

Steve ducked under one of Peter's webs, snapped it with his shield, and spun in time to block another blast. Peter swung past him, agile and relentless.

"That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all!" Peter called out, wide-eyed as Steve maneuvered around the tarmac like a seasoned gladiator.

Steve gave a dry look. "Look, kid. There's a lot going on here that you don't understand."

"Mr. Stark said you'd say that. Wow," Peter breathed, clearly impressed. He fired a new line of webbing that latched to Steve's shield and ankle. He yanked hard, and Steve slid toward him. Peter swung around and kicked him backwards, rolling with surprising precision. "He also said to go for your legs!"

Steve gritted his teeth and broke free, leaping to recover his shield. Peter webbed both his hands and pulled again—until Steve twisted, flipped, and hurled him backward with a perfect somersault.

A few meters away, Sam dove through incoming fire from Iron Man.

"Clint, can you get him off me?" Sam shouted.

"Buckled in?" Clint replied.

Miniaturized, Scott Lang's voice rang out, high-pitched and enthusiastic. "Yeah! No, I'm good. I'm good, Arrow Guy. Let's go, let's go!"

Clint fired the arrow with Scott riding on the tip. The arrowhead split mid-air. Iron Man responded instantly, firing lasers at the incoming shards—but missed Scott, who dived between his fingers and slipped inside the Iron Man suit at the shoulder.

As Steve blocked another of Peter's web shots, he caught the strand and yanked Peter forward. One solid bash with the shield sent the kid sprawling.

Recovering quickly, Peter climbed the scaffolding of the gangway. "Stark tell you anything else?" Steve asked.

Peter took a breath. "That you're wrong. You think you're right. That makes you dangerous."

Steve didn't flinch. He sprinted forward, launching a swift kick that sent Peter sprawling backward onto the gangway's support. With a clean throw, Steve launched his shield at the leg. It collapsed with a metallic groan. Peter caught the falling structure and held it with all his strength.

"You got heart, kid," Steve said with a small nod. "Where you from?"

"Queens," Peter grunted.

Steve turned away. "Brooklyn."

But Serena had no time to smile at that.

The battlefield had already reached surreal proportions, but the moment Scott Lang transformed into a literal giant, the world seemed to stop.

Serena had just disarmed one of Clint's traps near the fuel trucks when she felt the tremor.

A real tremor.

The kind that shook the air, the kind that made the tarmac hum with tension.

And then—

"Holy shit!" Peter Parker's voice squeaked from overhead, suspended by a rapidly swinging web.

Serena looked up—

And froze.

Her jaw parted in complete disbelief as Giant-Man—all fifty feet of him—rose like some sci-fi monster reborn from the earth itself, arms extended wide as he let out a giddy, echoing shout.

"Okay, tiny dude is big now. He's big now," Rhodey deadpanned, swooping wide to try and readjust to the new scale of chaos.

Serena blinked hard, trying to process what she was seeing.

Scott, was now towering over everyone, casually lifting a fuel truck like it was a toy car.

From a few yards away, Steve's voice came through with the perfect blend of dry sarcasm and alarm.

"I guess that's the signal."

"Way to go, Tic Tac!" Sam whooped over the comms, flying past Serena with a grin like a man who knew this was all entirely too insane.

Serena turned her head toward Tony, who hovered several feet off the ground, visibly startled.

"Give me back my Rhodey!" Tony shouted as Sam slammed feet-first into his side mid-flight.

"I got him!" Peter shouted, webbing War Machine midair to keep him from crashing.

Scott's enormous hand swept across the field, knocking over a cargo container. Somewhere off to her right, a bus flew through the air like a paper airplane.

"Is that a... is that a bus?!" Serena asked, half in horror, half in sheer astonishment.

T'Challa, focused and calm, was already sprinting into its trajectory.

Vision dropped like a meteor, slicing through the vehicle and splitting it in half mid-air, shielding T'Challa from being flattened. The bus broke apart in two graceful, flaming halves behind him.

Tony twisted in the air, barely dodging a jet wing that Scott swung like a club.

Serena turned, mouth agape.

"Is anyone going to say anything?" she asked, voice raised and incredulous. "Are we just not going to talk about the giant man, who was small just two minutes ago?"

Tony's voice crackled through her comm.

"Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose, I'm open to suggestion."

Peter laughed awkwardly as he dodged debris. "I definitely don't have that one."

"I mean—he was small, like the size of a stick of gum," Serena muttered, watching as Scott swatted at T'Challa like a fly. "And now he's... Godzilla."

Next to her, Nick casually pulled out his phone and recorded her expression. "Sending that to Lewis," he said without looking.

"You're the worst," Serena hissed, eyes still wide as Scott launched a truck like a football. "I mean it."

From overhead, Scott Lang's deep, booming voice echoed again.

"You wanna get to them... you gotta go through me!"

Serena's head swiveled to see him sweep his massive foot through the crates where T'Challa stood. The crates exploded, sending debris everywhere. A second later, an explosion lit up under Scott's foot as War Machine and Peter tried to bring him down.

"Get off," Scott groaned.

But before Serena could shout a warning, Vision streaked down from the sky like a cannonball, curled tightly—

And slammed into Scott's chest.

The impact knocked the wind out of the towering man as he stumbled, crashing backward into a storage tower with a sound that echoed for miles.

Serena ducked behind a truck, panting hard, her eyes still wide.

Her voice came out in a stunned whisper. "...What the hell are we even doing anymore?"

Nick, sliding beside her behind the vehicle, popped his helmet up.

"Losing our minds," he said. "Together."

Serena stared toward the battlefield where friends were fighting friends, where loyalty was breaking apart at the seams, where fire and debris painted the sky.

And where Steve—her Steve—was out there, shield raised, fighting not for politics but for conviction.

Her hands trembled.

Because she still didn't know which side her heart was truly on.

That's when she realized that Scott was a distraction, as she saw Barnes and Steve running toward the Quinjet hangar.

"Pierce, do not engage!" Natasha shouted from across the tarmac. "Do not go at them alone!"

But Serena blocked out the noise, as she made her way across the tarmac, completely disobeying orders.

Something she had picked up from Steve.

By the time Steve and Bucky made it to the hangar, it was silent, the vast space dimly lit by the overhead floodlights that buzzed faintly in the stale, metallic air. The tension was thick. Dust motes floated like whispers in the cavernous room, and the only sound was the measured click of booted heels echoing across the floor.

Serena emerged from the shadows.

The dark green Viper suit clung to her like a second skin, her Glock steady in her grip, aimed without hesitation. Her hair was tucked beneath her hood, and only the emerald gleam of her eyes was visible beneath the slight visor, cold and resolute. Her presence was haunting—lethal elegance wrapped in heartbreak.

She’d made it to the Quinjet hangar first.

And she wasn’t going to let him go—not again.

Steve came into view, running at Bucky’s side. The moment his eyes locked on Serena, he stumbled to a halt.

“Serena,” he said, breathless, shocked. “What are you doing?”

Her voice was steady, but behind it was grief so sharp it could shatter glass. “Don’t move.”

Steve stopped in his tracks, raising his hands, heart pounding. He saw the Glock aimed directly at his chest—knew what it meant. More than anyone, he knew what her bullets were dipped in. He knew she used to wield toxins prior to her STRIKE days, back when she was running CIA black ops. This was Dendroaspis polylepis. Black mamba.

“You’re using the neurotoxin rounds,” he said quietly, a lump in his throat.

“I’m not here to paralyze you, Steve,” she said, voice tight, her hands shaking. “But I will if I have to.”

Steve looked into her eyes, seeing more pain than fury. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You keep saying that. But you keep making me.”

Bucky took a step forward. His gaze sharpened the moment he saw Serena fully—her face, her stance. Something twisted in his expression. Confusion. Alarm. Mistrust.

“That’s her,” he murmured to Steve. “That’s the one Pierce told me about.”

Serena’s eyes snapped to him.

“What did you just say?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “The daughter of Secretary Pierce. The one he said was dangerous. A double-agent. Hydra’s enemy.”

Steve turned to him. “Bucky, no—she’s not the enemy. Pierce lied to you. Serena’s one of the good ones.”

“She’s pointing a gun at you,” Bucky hissed.

“And you don’t know what I’ve already lost because of this,” Serena snapped back.

Steve stepped toward her. “Honey, please—look at me. We can stop this now.”

Her lip trembled. “You kissed Sharon.”

Steve froze.

“I saw the footage,” she said, voice shaking. “I saw everything. I was in a hospital bed, Steve. Barely alive. And I saw it. So don’t talk to me about stopping anything.”

“I wasn’t thinking—I wasn’t myself,” Steve said. “Serena, I was hurting. I thought I lost you. I didn’t know how to process any of it.”

“You don’t get to say that after what happened in the church. You told me you loved me.”

“I do. I do love you,” he insisted, desperate. “I love you more than anything. That kiss—Serena, I swear to you, it meant nothing. It was a mistake.”

“And now you’re choosing him over everything again.”

Steve’s face fell. “It’s not about choosing him. It’s about doing the right thing.”

“I was doing the right thing too when I begged you to stay out of this.” Her voice cracked. “I warned you. I warned all of you. But you didn’t listen.”

Her Glock lowered a few inches. Her resolve was slipping—but so was her strength. Emotion was overtaking her. Her heart was breaking all over again.

“I was going to tell you something,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t hear.

But then—

CRACK.

The gunshot rang out like a thunderclap.

Serena jerked, her body twisting as the bullet struck her in the abdomen. The gun slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed with a sharp, gasping cry of pain.

“NO!” Steve screamed.

He spun around. Bucky stood with his pistol raised, unmoved.

“She was going to shoot you,” Bucky said flatly.

“I told you she wasn’t the enemy!” Steve shouted, catching Serena before she hit the ground fully. He knelt, gathering her into his arms.

Blood was already seeping through the green of her Viper suit, staining it dark.

“C’mon, honey. Stay with me.” His voice broke. “Please—Serena—look at me. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Her eyelids fluttered. Her mouth opened, but only a soft gasp escaped as she faded from consciousness.

“She wasn’t going to shoot me,” Steve whispered again, brushing her blood-streaked hair back from her face. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “We don’t have time.”

Steve stared at him, torn between grief and rage—but then the Quinjet engine roared to life behind them.

“We have to go,” Bucky said.

Steve hesitated—one last, painful look at Serena in his arms—before he gently laid her down and stood.

That’s when Natasha arrived.

She burst into the hangar, gun raised—only to immediately assess the scene.

Steve, standing over Serena’s bleeding body.

Nick and T’Challa arriving behind her, fast and armed.

Without missing a beat, she spun and fired her Widow’s Bites—stunning both men before they could react. T’Challa collapsed with a groan, Nick hitting the floor with a curse.

Steve looked at her, stunned. “Nat…”

“I’m not letting you go without her getting help,” Natasha said, already kneeling beside Serena. “Go. Now.”

Bucky was already boarding the Quinjet. Steve looked down one more time, then climbed after him.

Natasha pressed her hands to Serena’s wound, cursing under her breath as blood slipped between her fingers.

“I told you not to go after him alone,” she whispered. “Dammit, Serena…”

The Quinjet ascended behind her, taking Steve and Bucky into the sky. 

Leaving behind the chaos below.

2 Days Later

The room was dim, awash in soft golden light from the early Virginia morning bleeding through half-drawn curtains. The cotton sheets were cool against Serena’s skin, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging faintly to the air.

She stirred.

A low whine reached her ears first—the gentle pressure of a head nudging her arm next. Molly.

Serena blinked open her eyes.

Her golden retriever was curled at her side on the bed, her nose resting against Serena’s arm, big brown eyes watching her with loyal concern. The dog let out another soft whimper, as if afraid to move too fast, afraid that whatever had broken her person hadn’t yet healed.

Serena reached out, fingers sinking into Molly’s soft fur. She exhaled, long and trembling.

She was back at the Compound.

Alive.

Somehow.

Her hand drifted to her side. The pain was there, a dull throb that pulsed with every heartbeat. She’d been shot. She remembered now—Barnes. The Quinjet. Steve—

Steve.

Her breath hitched. The name was like broken glass in her throat.

He had left her. Again.

The door creaked open. Molly’s ears perked.

Tony stepped in.

Of all people.

He was dressed casually, but still, the kind of casual that looked like it cost more than most people's cars. But what really caught her eye was the black eye that was beginning to bruise on his face, along with his arm in a sling...a number must've been done to him. But there was no snarky quip waiting on his lips this time—only the quiet sound of him clearing his throat as he stood just inside the doorway, watching her.

He looked older to her in that moment.

He looked haunted.

“You’re awake,” he said softly. “Good.”

Serena didn’t answer.

“I’m going to The Raft,” Tony continued. “I want to see if I can get anything out of Wilson. Barton. Lang. Anyone. Maybe they know where Rogers is headed.”

Silence.

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at his shoes.

“I thought maybe… you’d want to come.”

Something in her snapped.

Serena swung her legs over the bed, Molly backing off just slightly as she stood.

“You thought what?” she said, her voice sharp and venom-laced.

Tony straightened, blinking. “I thought—”

“No,” she cut him off. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like we’re friends. Like you care. Because you don’t. You never have.”

“Serena—”

“You’ve called me Barbie since the day I joined,” she spat. “You used to say I was just a ‘Langley doll’—a plant Fury had dressed up and paraded in heels. You accused me of being a double agent. You called me and Hill twisted.”

He winced.

“We embraced it. We owned it. Because we had to. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

Her eyes were blazing now, dark and wounded, full of fire and fury and exhaustion.

“You looked at me like I was disposable. And now you want to be all buddy-buddy? Now you want to include me in your little redemption tour?”

Tony didn’t respond. He just stood there, watching the collapse he’d had a hand in building.

“Well, I’m done,” she said, voice cracking. “I’m done with all of it.”

“Serena…”

“No.” She walked past him, Molly right at her heels. “I have nothing left to offer you.”

He didn’t follow her.

She moved like a ghost through the Compound, hair unbrushed, stitches sore beneath her shirt, and soul numb. She packed with clinical precision: clothing, files, her sidearms, her Stark-made Viper enhancements—shoved into a duffel and carried like dead weight.

She tossed her keys to her black Porsche 911 in her hand and drove.

Hours passed in silence.

Only the sound of tires against asphalt, the low purr of the engine, and the wind whipping through cracked windows filled the empty spaces of her grief. Every sign passed like a mile marker on the road to nowhere: Annapolis. Quantico. Alexandria.

She drove straight through the gates of the Pierce family estate—large, white stone, elegant and cold.

Her mother, Felicita, was standing on the veranda, phone in hand, mid-call. Her expression faltered when she saw the Porsche. The phone lowered.

“Serena?”

No answer.

She didn’t stop.

She slammed the door of the car and marched inside, boots heavy on marble floors, and stormed up the sweeping staircase. Molly padded close behind, tail low.

Felicita remained outside, stunned.

Serena pushed into her childhood bedroom, untouched since she left for Langley all those years ago. Cool gray walls. A white canopy bed. Bookshelves filled with international politics and espionage theory. The medals and awards on display. The portrait of her with Nick and their father.

She dropped the duffel by the bed, sat down on the edge—and broke.

The tears came without warning. They spilled freely, hot and endless, cutting down her cheeks as her body trembled from the force of her sobs. Molly whined and pressed into her side, trying to offer comfort.

“I lost him,” Serena whispered into the air. “I lost everything.”

Her hands pressed to her abdomen, over the spot where the baby had been. “It was my fault. I went after Barnes. I knew better, and I still—”

Her voice caught.

“I lost the baby.”

She whispered it like a confession, a secret that didn’t matter anymore now that no one could hear it. Now that the only heartbeat left was hers—and even that one was fractured. She glanced to the emerald engagement ring that was still on her finger...she couldn't bare take it off. It was the only thing she wanted to keep from her time in the Avengers.

One of the last things Steve left her.

Down the hallway, Felicita watched through the cracked door.

She said nothing.

Not yet.

Because sometimes a mother knows when to give her child space.

And sometimes… even the strongest Viper needs time to mourn.

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 38: Chapter 38

Notes:

TW: Mentions of Depression

Present Day: Three Days After Berlin

Location: Alexandria Virginia

The mansion was silent in a way it never had been. Not even during the nights when Alexander had been away on missions. Not even in the days after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., when the world felt like it was ending.

But this?

This silence was suffocating.

The only sounds were the subtle creaks of hardwood floors, the quiet humming of the antique central air system, and the soft clicking of Molly's nails as she padded down the corridor to Serena's room — always returning to her side.

Serena hadn't spoken in seventy-two hours.

Not a word.

Not a whisper.

Not a single syllable.

Her voice had gone as silent as the baby she had lost.

She hadn't cried. She hadn't screamed. She hadn't moved.

She lay curled on her side in the bed of her childhood room—one hand loosely clutching a faded blanket from when she was young, the other resting over the still-flat plane of her abdomen.

She hadn't eaten. Had barely sipped water.

Felicita had tried everything.

The first day, she had sat beside her daughter and brushed her hair gently with her fingers, humming old Italian lullabies from when Serena was small. She'd spoken in a whisper-soft voice, murmuring words of comfort, telling her it wasn't her fault.

"Non è colpa tua, tesoro. Nessuno poteva saperlo." (It's not your fault, sweetheart. No one could've known.)

Serena didn't respond. Her eyes didn't even flicker.

Felicita had tried again, switching to French, the language of love and luxury and maternal warmth.

"Tu es toujours ma fille, mon cœur. Tu n'as rien fait de mal." (You are still my daughter, my heart. You did nothing wrong.)

Still, nothing.

Serena's eyes were fixed on a point beyond the edge of her pillow. Not in sleep. Not in peace. But in disassociation.

Molly curled up at her back every night. The golden retriever rarely left the bed. She whined softly sometimes, nudging Serena's hand with her nose, trying to remind her she was loved.

By the second day, Felicita had brought up fresh clothes, homemade brodo, a pot of tea, and even Serena's favorite almond torte. None of it was touched.

Not even the tea.

Felicita sat in the wingback chair in the corner of the room that night, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, legs bouncing with tension. Her usually impeccable posture was collapsed with fatigue. She didn't sleep. She simply watched. Waited. Worried.

By the third day, Felicita made a call she hadn't wanted to make.

She called Nick.

That Afternoon

Nick entered the room quietly. The scent of his aftershave — cedarwood and something sharp — filtered through the air, familiar and grounding.

He stood at the door for a moment, one hand braced against the frame as he looked at his baby sister, the strongest person he'd ever known, reduced to a hollow shell.

He swallowed hard.

No one had to tell him what had happened. He knew. He could see it in the stillness of her.

No tears. No expression. Just vacancy.

"Hey, Trouble," he said softly, stepping into the room.

No response.

He walked over and sat gently on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her position. After a moment, he lay down behind her, fully clothed, letting his weight settle onto the mattress like an anchor.

"You know," he began, his voice low and thick with emotion, "when you were little and you had those night terrors, I used to sneak into your room and sleep on the floor. I'd just lie there until you calmed down."

Still, no movement.

"I used to tell you I'd never let anything hurt you. That I'd always protect you. And for a while... I thought I did."

His voice cracked a little. He stared at the ceiling.

"I don't know what to say now, Ser. I don't know how to fix this. I can't fix it. And I hate that."

He turned slightly, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

"But I can lie here," he said. "And I can wait."

Silence. The kind that throbbed in the walls. Molly lifted her head, ears perked at Nick's voice, but Serena remained still, her hand now loosely fisting the blanket.

Nick exhaled slowly, eyes damp.

"I know you blame yourself. I know you think going after Barnes cost you everything. But it didn't. Because you're still here. You are. And that means there's something left to fight for. Something left to heal."

Still, no words. But her lashes fluttered slightly. The first movement in days.

Nick leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You didn't lose the baby because you fought. You lost the baby because this world is cruel. And he made a choice. Not you."

She flinched at that. The smallest movement. Barely perceptible.

Nick felt it like a thunderclap.

"I love you, Kiddo. And when you're ready to talk, scream, throw shit, whatever—you know I'll be here."

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, lingering for a second longer before slowly rising.

He didn't try to make her eat. He didn't try to pull her out of bed.

He just looked at her one more time—his eyes full of pain—and walked out of the room.

Downstairs

Felicita stood at the bottom of the staircase, her arms crossed tightly as she stared up at the landing.

Nick descended quietly, his jaw clenched.

"Well?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not yet."

Felicita sighed, her voice raw. "She's punishing herself."

"She is," Nick agreed. "But we're not giving up on her."

Felicita's eyes welled, but she blinked the tears away. "She won't speak. Not even to me."

"She will," Nick said softly. "She just has to remember that she's allowed to live."

They stood in silence.

A mother and a brother.

Watching the staircase. Waiting.

And upstairs, in a quiet room with drawn curtains, Serena lay still, her hand over the empty place she once imagined life would grow.

The grief sat in her chest like a stone.

Heavy. Immovable.

One Week Later

The sun filtered weakly through gauzy curtains in Serena's bedroom, casting soft golden light across the antique wallpaper and hardwood floor. It was a beautiful spring day. The kind of day Serena once loved — when the air felt clean, and the promise of a warm breeze could lure her onto the balcony with a coffee and a journal.

But the Serena of now hadn't stepped outside in seven days.

The room smelled of stale linens and dried lavender from a sachet long forgotten in the corner of her dresser. Molly, ever loyal, lay on the floor near the bed, chin on her paws, her tail thumping every so often in quiet, hopeful bursts.

The door opened softly.

Maria Hill didn't knock. She didn't have to.

She walked in like she always did — with purpose. A duffel bag over her shoulder, a clean change of clothes folded neatly in her arms, and her dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun.

She paused just inside the doorway, taking in the scene. Serena was still curled in the same position. Her back to the door, face turned toward the window but eyes unfocused — unmoving. The tray of food from last night sat untouched on the nearby table.

Maria exhaled quietly through her nose and set down the clothes on a nearby chair. She stepped out of her shoes, her heeled boots replaced by worn socks as she crossed to the bed, sat down slowly on the edge, and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

"You smell like an ex-boyfriend's hoodie, Serena," she said softly. "And not in a nostalgic, cozy kind of way. In a 'we should call in a hazmat unit' kind of way."

No response.

Not that she expected one.

She turned to face her, resting her chin in her hand. "I'm not gonna try the 'you need to move on' speech. Or the 'it gets better' one. I know you know all that already. And I know it doesn't matter when you feel like this."

Still nothing.

Maria watched her friend closely. She reached out gently, brushing Serena's hair away from her cheek.

"You're not the only one who's ever lost something, y'know?" she said quietly. "But you? You're the only person I know strong enough to still be standing after all this."

She let the silence sit for a while. No pressure. No timeline.

Just presence.

Then she stood up, grabbing the fresh clothes from the chair and walking around the bed to Serena's side. She squatted down so they were eye level, even if Serena wasn't looking at her.

"I brought that cashmere sweater you love," Maria said softly. "The one from that shop in Milan. And clean leggings. And your skincare stuff."

Still nothing.

"But first," she said gently, brushing her fingers under Serena's chin, "we're going to shower. And yes, I'm going to sit in the bathroom and make sure you don't just stand there with the water running. I'm annoyingly persistent like that."

She stood and held out her hand.

Serena didn't take it.

Maria didn't flinch.

Instead, she leaned down, pressing her palm against Serena's hand and squeezing gently.

"Just the shower," Maria said. "No expectations beyond that. Just one thing. One little thing."

It took a full minute.

But then...

Serena's fingers moved.

Slowly. Weakly.

She didn't look at Maria. Didn't speak. But her hand curled around Maria's.

And that was enough.

Twenty Minutes Later

Steam curled around the marble tiles as Serena stood under the rainfall shower-head, water cascading down her body like it might rinse away the weight clinging to her soul.

She didn't cry.

She didn't move much.

But she was upright.

Maria sat on the closed toilet lid, one leg crossed over the other, watching the silhouette behind the frosted glass with practiced subtlety.

She kept her voice low. Calm. Normal. Like everything was okay.

"You remember that op in Prague? Where you ate that stale biscotti from the safe house pantry because you were 'starving' and then spent the next four hours throwing up into a tactical bucket?"

No answer.

Maria smiled faintly. "I had to distract the guards with a fake code drop while you were dying behind a dumpster. I still have the footage."

A beat.

"I should send it to Lewis." She murmured with a nod. "Since that's what you all do when stupid shit happens...you send it to Lewis."

Still nothing.

But the sound of water changed slightly — a movement. Serena reached for shampoo.

Maria kept going.

"I talked to Nat yesterday, considering Ross is gunning for her, and she's on Stark's shit-list for letting Barnes and Rogers escape. She's worried about you. Trying not to be, y'know, emotional about it, but you know how she is. Russian ice queen with a bleeding heart."

A beat.

"And Fury? Don't get me started. He acts like he's not checking in every five minutes, but I know the man. I've seen him more in the last week than I did during my last six months at S.H.I.E.L.D."

Finally, the water shut off.

Maria stood immediately, grabbing a towel. When the glass door opened, she held it out silently, wrapping it gently around Serena's shoulders.

Serena's eyes didn't meet hers. But they were red-rimmed. She blinked slowly, as if emerging from underwater.

Maria didn't say anything.

She just pulled her into a towel-wrapped hug and held her there.

Later That Afternoon

The sun had shifted.

Maria lay beside Serena on the bed, this time with both of them facing the ceiling. Serena was clean, hair damp, wearing the Milan sweater and soft leggings. Her hands were tucked under her head, her body still tight with exhaustion, but breathing a little deeper now.

Molly was asleep at the foot of the bed, her tail twitching in a dream.

Maria stared at the ceiling. "You remember when we were 19 and 26, and we thought if we weren't married by 30, we'd both just retire and buy a villa in Sicily?"

No response.

"You said you'd name your kids after classical composers. I said I'd name mine after horrible people in fiction. Like Disney villans or something."

Serena's eyes blinked slowly.

"You told me I was insane and that any child of yours would speak at least four languages and never be allowed to wear Crocs."

Maria turned her head slightly, watching her.

"You never wanted this life to be what defined you, Ser. You always thought you'd escape it. Be more than S.H.I.E.L.D. More than your father. More than the goddamn legacy."

Still, no words.

"But even now... like this... you are so much more than what happened to you."

Silence.

Maria's voice softened. "I'm not asking you to come back today. Not even tomorrow. But I need you to promise me something."

She turned fully onto her side, facing Serena.

"That you'll let us hold you up until you can stand again."

Serena didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

But her eyes filled.

And one tear — just one — slipped quietly down the side of her face and into the pillow.

Maria reached out, brushing it away with her thumb.

And then, softly, finally, Serena's lips parted.

Her voice cracked.

"I should've stayed in that room."

Maria froze.

Serena swallowed.

"I should've stayed with him. With Steve. With... the baby."

Maria shook her head slowly, her hand wrapping gently around Serena's.

"You were trying to protect everyone, Ser. You always are."

Serena's lips quivered, but she didn't cry.

She just looked back up at the ceiling. "It doesn't feel like enough."

Maria exhaled. "It never does. Not for people like us."

They lay there in silence again. But this time, Maria knew — they were closer.

Serena had spoken.

But still, it was not enough.

2 Months Later

It had been two months since Berlin.

Two months since the fight at the airport, the fracture of the Avengers, the betrayal, the bullet.

Two months since the bleeding.

Since the loss.

And still, Serena hadn't left her mother's house.

Alexandria was caught in the grip of spring's transition, cherry blossoms dancing along the wide boulevards and the sun warm against the stately white columns of the Pierce estate. But the world outside might as well have been a million miles away from the woman curled beneath the linen sheets of her childhood bed.

Serena lay on her side, eyes open but distant, unfocused. The room was quiet, still. Only the soft panting of Molly curled by her legs offered proof of life.

The sun shifted. Morning became afternoon. Time bled like watercolors.

And Serena didn't move.

Felicita stood in the hallway outside her daughter's room, arms crossed, head tilted slightly against the doorframe. She was dressed impeccably, as always — tailored trousers, cream blouse, gold accents at her wrist and throat. But her normally sharp expression had dulled, eyes heavy with concern.

"She hasn't eaten," she murmured.

"I know," Maria said, holding a mug of tea.

"She hasn't even come downstairs."

Maria nodded. "I got her to shower this morning again. That's something."

"You had to bribe her with shampoo from Tokyo."

"It worked, didn't it?"

Felicita sighed, her posture softening slightly. "A month," she whispered. "A month in that bed."

Behind them, Val walked into the hallway with a glass of red wine already in hand.

"None of this is surprising," she said dryly. "We knew this would happen."

Felicita turned, unimpressed. "Enlighten me."

"She fell in love with someone like Rogers," Val said, sipping. "Moralistic. Stubborn. Beautiful, in a sad Irish Catholic way. And he betrayed her. Or at least... that's how she sees it."

"Not to mention she lost the baby," Everett added, stepping into the hallway behind Val. He had just returned from Berlin — hair a little grayer, lines around his eyes deeper. "That kind of trauma doesn't pass. Not easily."

Felicita's mouth pressed into a tight line. "She's not mad at you."

Everett raised an eyebrow. "Not even a little?"

She sighed. "Though... not background checking that psychiatrist was incredibly stupid on your part."

"Well, yeah." He scratched the back of his neck. "It was."

Val rolled her eyes. "What do you want him to do, beg forgiveness?"

"Yes," Felicita said simply. "But later. Right now, I want my daughter back."

"Good luck with that." Val depanned. "I warned her this would happen, when she started back on STRIKE with that goddamn Boy Scout. The one thing about your daughter Fel, is that she's too stubborn to realize what's going on."

Nick and Alison arrived two days later.

Their return to the States was permanent now — Nick had officially decided to stop running ops in Africa, as he needed to take a break, and Alison had begun work at a human rights firm in D.C. They came in quietly, the way family members do when they already expect to find the worst.

Serena didn't get up to greet them.

She didn't move at all.

"She didn't even look at me," Nick said to Alison later, standing outside the room. "It's like she's... not here."

"I know." Alison's voice was thick with sadness. "And this is Serena. This is Serena. She once got shot in Marrakesh and still managed to disable six men and fly a helicopter with a broken rib."

"She looks like a ghost."

He swallowed hard.

Then he reached for his phone.

Nick:  How fast can you get to the States? She needs you.

The reply came ten minutes later.

Lewis:  I' ll be on the first flight. 

It was early afternoon when Lewis Hamilton stepped out of a matte black town car and onto the gravel drive of the Pierce estate. He wore a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a soft hoodie that looked like he'd slept in it. Molly barked once — a familiar, excited sound — before bounding down the stairs to greet him.

He crouched, hugging her tight. "Hey, girl. Missed you too."

Felicita opened the door.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Suzuka?" She frowned.

He nodded. "I was, I got P3. This is more important."

"She's upstairs."

"She know I'm here?"

"She might. She hasn't spoken more than ten words since she left Berlin."

Lewis looked up the stairs. His jaw tightened. "I'll try."

The door creaked open.

"Hey, Lady."

Silence.

She was lying in bed, arms around Molly, who was curled tightly into her chest. Her face was pale, eyes distant, skin too still.

"Got a weird déjà vu walking in here," Lewis murmured. "Last time I saw you this quiet, we were hungover in Dubai after I dared you to dance on a rooftop."

No answer.

He tried again.

"I brought snacks. The Japanese ones you like. Pocky, mochi, dried squid, all that weird stuff. I even brought the stupid strawberry soda."

Still nothing.

Lewis exhaled, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I don't know what he did," he said quietly. "But I can guess."

Her fingers twitched.

"I just want you to know," he added, voice cracking slightly, "there's not a corner of this Earth that he could hide on where I wouldn't find him and gut him, if that's what you wanted."

Finally, Serena spoke.

"I lost the baby."

Lewis stilled.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "It's gone. I lost it. And he still left."

Lewis reached for her hand. She didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I don't know who I am without this. Without all of it."

"You're Serena Pierce," he said gently. "You're still you."

"No, I'm not."

He swallowed hard, lowering his head.

"I just wanted a life," she said. "With him. Something real. Something safe."

Lewis didn't have the words. So he did the only thing he could.

He held her.

And for the first time in weeks, Serena cried like someone who might someday want to live again.

The sun was starting to sink over Alexandria, casting gold light through the tall windows of the Pierce estate and painting shadows across the oak-paneled walls. Downstairs, the house was unusually full — and silent. Tension hung in the air like humidity before a storm.

The sound of Lewis's footsteps coming down the staircase echoed through the grand foyer. He moved slowly, deliberately, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other cradling a bottle of unopened strawberry soda.

He entered the sitting room, where Felicita, Everett, Maria, Val, Nick, and Alison were scattered across antique couches and tufted armchairs. No one said anything at first.

Lewis dropped down into an armchair with a heavy sigh and exhaled like he'd just walked off the track after crashing out in Q1.

"I failed."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You?"

"I've never seen her like this, man," Lewis said, running his hand over his buzzed hair. "She barely spoke. Didn't even flinch when I said her name. I could've told her aliens landed in the backyard, and I don't think it would've mattered."

"She flinched when I offered her sushi last week," Maria muttered. "It's like watching a lion just... fade."

"She's grieving," Alison added softly, sitting beside Nick. "The baby, Steve, the entire goddamn world breaking apart beneath her feet..."

Lewis sat up straighter, the bottle clinking against the table.

"Okay," he said suddenly. "Brainstorm time. There's gotta be a way to get her downstairs."

"Here we go," Val muttered into her wine glass. 

"No, I'm serious." Lewis began counting on his fingers. "One: we stage a fake crisis. Maybe say Molly ate a diamond tennis bracelet. Emergency vet dash. Boom, adrenaline."

"Lewis," Everett started.

"Two: tell her Steve's outside."

"That might kill her, actually," Maria said dryly. "Or she'd kill somebody."

"Three: threaten to livestream her high school dance recital unless she walks downstairs."

"I still have that tape," Felicita offered, stone-faced.

Nick snorted. "I do not want to be here when that happens."

"Four: we bring in someone she hates. Who does she hate right now?" Lewis added. 

"Sharon Carter is high on her shit list." Everett deadpanned. 

"We bring her in and Maybe have her take over her closet. Say she's redecorating in cottagecore. Watch her emerge from sheer rage." Lewis sighed.

"I would pay to see her try to strangle someone in bunny slippers," Maria muttered.

"Five: get a karaoke machine. Put on 'Survivor.'"

"She'd probably just throw a shoe at the screen," Nick said.

Lewis sighed and flopped back in the chair, legs sprawled. "I'm out of ideas."

"Shocking." Val sarcastically replied. "That's the best you could do Nick? Bring in The British Guy? What's next? Call in The Jester to do a juggling act?" 

The room was quiet for a moment. The silence throbbed.

Then Maria sat up slowly. "There is one person she might listen to."

Felicita tilted her head. "If you say Rogers—"

"I'm not an idiot."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

Maria picked up her phone and waved it slightly. "Fury."

The room stilled.

"Fury?" Nick asked, blinking. "Like, eyepatch, trench coat, that Fury?"

"The one who raised her from the age of five," Maria replied, scrolling through her contacts. "Who trained her, recruited her, protected her, and occasionally grounded her even into adulthood. Yeah. That one."

Felicita frowned. "He's off-grid. Again."

"I have a shadow line," Maria said without looking up. "He left it open for emergencies."

"Is this an emergency?" Everett asked cautiously.

Maria looked at him. Then at Nick. Then at Lewis.

And finally, her gaze landed on Felicita, whose expression cracked — just a little.

"Yeah," Felicita said quietly. "It is."

Nick exhaled slowly. "You think he can actually get through to her?"

Maria didn't answer.

Instead, she pressed call.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then clicked.

A gravelly voice filled the line.

"Romanoff told me about Berlin before she went rogue."

Maria stood, walking toward the windows. "We need you."

There was a pause.

"Where is she?"

Maria glanced over her shoulder. "Home. Alexandria."

A long beat. Then:

"I'll be there by nightfall."

Maria hung up and turned to the room.

"Okay," she said, all business. "We have until sunset. Everyone clear the wine glasses, hide the weapons, and for the love of God, someone make sure Val doesn't provoke him. The last time she did, he reprogrammed her espresso machine to only speak in Russian."

Val lifted her glass in salute. "Worth it."

Nick cracked his knuckles and stood.

Lewis sat forward again, the faintest spark in his eyes.

"Okay," he said, rolling his shoulders. "We've got Fury inbound. Now this is a real strategy session."

Maria smirked. "You know what that means, right?"

Lewis blinked. "What?"

"Serena is gonna come back swinging."

Later that Night

The front door creaked open slowly.

Everyone still sat where they'd been for the past hour in Felicita's living room: Maria curled at the edge of the couch, her head tilted back in exhaustion; Lewis pacing by the windows, mumbling rejected plans under his breath; Nick and Alison perched on the armrest of the love seat, tension written across their faces. Even Molly, Serena's golden retriever, was lying by the fire, ears flat, tail unmoving.

No one said a word as the figure stepped into the foyer.

Nick was the first to look up. "He's here."

Nick Fury stood in the doorway, his long black coat trailing behind him like the edge of a storm. He scanned the room, his eye unreadable.

"Took you long enough," Maria muttered, standing up.

"You try explaining to three NATO commanders that you're skipping a security summit because your prodigy's gone dark and twisty," Fury deadpanned. "I nearly broke a man's wrist just for asking too many follow-up questions."

Felicita raised a brow from her seat across the room, arms folded tightly. "This is bad, Nick. I haven't seen her like this since—" she stopped, unable to finish. Her voice softened. "Not even then."

Fury's eye flicked toward the staircase. "She upstairs?"

"Same room," Nick said. "Been there for two months."

Fury gave a nod. "Alone."

And just like that, he disappeared up the stairs without another word.

The hallway was dim, but he didn't need light. He'd memorized the layout of this house years ago. The same way he'd memorized the code in Serena's eyes the day he pulled her out of that hostage hell in Bogotá. She was only five years old, bloodied lip, her little hands wrapped around a notebook she'd stolen from the desk of one of the embassy staff—filled with times and dates she had tracked from behind the curtain of a makeshift cell.

She hadn't cried. Not once. She just told him—calmly—that they brought in new hostages every four hours and she was pretty sure one of them was lying about being an oil consultant.

He remembered looking at her and thinking, Damn, this kid's got ice in her veins.

He knocked once.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still silence.

Then, in a low voice, one that hadn't changed much in decades, he said:

"Open this door, Pierce. Or I pick the lock like it's 1997 and you're still sneaking out of that boarding school in Paris."

Still nothing.

So he opened the door anyway.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn. Serena was lying in bed, facing the wall, Molly curled beside her like a soft sentry.

"Don't bother," she muttered, voice hollow. "They already tried bribing me with croissants and Maria played the 'remember who you are' card yesterday. Nothing works."

Fury stepped in and shut the door behind him. "I didn't come to play cheerleader."

Serena didn't look at him.

"I came to remind you who the hell you are."

That got a flicker. She didn't turn, but her shoulders shifted.

"You remember Bogotá?" he said quietly. "I do. I remember that little girl who watched every move those bastards made. Who told me—after I put two bullets in the last hostage taker—that he was the only one left, because she'd counted. Counted, Serena. At five."

"I don't want to talk about that," she said.

"Tough," Fury replied. "Because that's who you are. You don't lay down and rot. You don't disappear into silk sheets and self-pity. You survive. That's what you do."

She finally turned to face him.

And Fury stopped cold.

There were tears in her eyes. Not many. But enough.

"You didn't see him," she whispered. "You didn't see the way he looked at me before he left. Like he didn't even recognize me anymore."

Fury stepped closer, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. "You think that man stopped loving you? No. He's just broken, same as you. Doesn't know how to fix it. Doesn't know how to fix you."

Serena swallowed thickly, voice barely audible. "I lost the baby."

His breath hitched.

And then the silence between them was crushing.

For once, Fury didn't have a comeback. No one-liner. No sharp, sarcastic edge.

Just a slow exhale, and then he reached out, gently taking her hand in his.

"You've lost a lot," he said. "Too much. But that doesn't mean you stop. That doesn't mean you fade."

Serena's lip trembled.

"You're not Alexander's daughter," Fury added, low and firm. "You're mine. You're ours. You've got the heart of a commander and the instincts of a damn ghost. You're going to get back up. And you're going to burn through every bastard who ever made you feel small."

She let out a shaky breath. "You always say stuff like that right before you make me do something dangerous."

He cracked the faintest smile. "Because you're always the only one who can do it."

A beat passed.

Then, softly: "Come downstairs. Let them see you're still here."

"I don't know if I'm ready."

"You don't have to be ready," Fury said. "Just be willing."

He stood up and looked at her one last time before opening the door. "I'll be downstairs. Don't make me come back up here."

And with that, he walked out.

Behind him, Serena sat up, rubbing her face with both hands.

Molly lifted her head, nosing her shoulder softly.

Serena didn't speak—but she nodded.

And for the first time in weeks, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She wasn't whole yet.

But she was still here.

And that would be enough for now.

No sooner Fury came back downstairs, he explained that he had to leave, and he knew deep down with what he said to Serena, would get her ass downstairs. It might take a couple of minutes, or a couple of hours, but he knew she'd walk down the stairs.

1 Hour Later

The soft clack of footsteps on the stairs made Maria look up from her spot on the couch.

She blinked once—twice—and then shoved her elbow into Nick’s side, nearly knocking over the glass of wine he was cradling.

“What the—” he started, but then followed her gaze and froze.

There, slowly but surely, Serena was making her way down the stairs.

Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and she was dressed in black yoga pants and a soft grey sweater—one that had definitely once belonged to Nick, based on the faded Navy logo on the sleeve. Molly trotted at her side, like a fluffy golden bodyguard, tail finally wagging again.

The air in the room shifted.

“Holy shit,” Lewis whispered, almost reverently. Then, louder: “S!”

Serena’s eyes met his, and a small smile—tiny, but very real—ghosted across her face.

The next moment was chaos.

Maria was the first to cross the room and wrap her arms around her, holding her so tightly Serena actually laughed—just a breathy sound, but it was music to their ears.

“You smell like wine and desperation,” Serena mumbled into her shoulder.

“And you smell like depression and dry shampoo,” Maria shot back with wet eyes and a grin.

Alison was next, followed by Felicita, who—miraculously—didn’t say a word, just pulled Serena into a hug and ran a hand protectively down her hair. It was the most visibly emotional she'd been in years.

Everett gave her a sheepish look from where he stood with Val. “Still mad at me?” he asked.

Serena shook her head. “Not for long. But you’re still on probation.”

Val smirked, arms crossed. “Told you she’d snap out of it. The Pierce gene is dramatic, but resilient.”

Lewis waited until the group hug dissolved before striding over and grabbing her hand. “C’mere.”

She let herself be tugged into the kitchen, where Nick followed, standing behind Lewis as he pulled out his phone.

“Nope,” Serena groaned. “Don’t you dare.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You came downstairs. I’m marking the occasion. This is like the Second Coming.”

“It’s not that deep—”

“Yes, it is,” Nick interjected, grinning as he leaned into frame behind them.

Lewis pulled Serena into a side hug, holding the phone up high. “Smile, S.”

And despite herself, she did.

The click of the photo being taken echoed softly—and then Lewis was already tapping and posting.

@lewishamilton
“Reunited.” 

Within minutes, the comments began flooding in.

@selenagomez: look at this crew 
@badgalriri: finally the dream team is back 
@jensonbutton: Good to see you, Serena 
@nicorosberg: Always knew you’d bounce back.
@paul_diresta: We miss you around the paddock. Get back soon!
@serenawilliams: Sending all the good vibes your way 
@gigihadid: Iconic trio moment?! HELLO?!
@mercedesamgf1: SQUAD 
@mariasharapova: My favorite troublemakers.

And then…

@tonystark: Should I bring cake or a cease-and-desist? Asking for a friend.

Serena narrowed her eyes at the screen.

“Don’t,” Lewis said automatically, sipping from a smoothie.

“I wasn’t gonna—”

“You were 100% going to. I can hear it in your blood pressure.”

She rolled her eyes and handed the phone back. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Lewis said with a wink.

Nick just chuckled and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Glad you’re back, sis.”

Serena leaned against the kitchen counter, her smile fading just slightly as she turned to Lewis and Nick.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said slowly. “I want to go back to work.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed a little. “Define ‘work.’”

“Not fieldwork,” she added quickly. “I don’t want to be in the field again. Not after everything. Not right now. But Langley’s already offered me a post—they still want me on oversight.”

“As they should,” Felicita’s voice rang out from behind her. “You’re still the best operative they’ve ever had. Oversight suits you.”

Maria, who had wandered in behind them, snorted. “Suits you as much as a flak vest and six concealed knives.”

Serena gave her a dry look. “This is coming from someone who duct-taped herself to the inside of a diplomatic cargo crate.”

“That was one time.”

Alison raised a brow. “Wait, they’re putting you back at Langley? Like, desk duty Langley?”

“Not entirely desk,” she said. “But nothing classified for a while. Nothing dangerous.”

Nick gave her a long look. “You sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I need something. I need to do something.”

Lewis reached out and gently bumped his fist against her arm. “Then you do it, S. Just don’t let them drag you under again.”

She looked at him, eyes softer now. “I won’t.”

And for the first time in over a month, the warmth in the room didn’t feel manufactured or forced. Serena wasn’t fully okay—but she was healing. Slowly. Quietly.

And for now, that was more than enough.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Three Months Later

Langley, Virginia had never looked so calm in the morning light. The sharp angles of the CIA compound gleamed silver under a slate-blue sky, and the hallways buzzed with the quiet murmur of progress, precision, and power. Serena walked down one of those halls, perfectly composed in a tailored navy suit, her emerald engagement ring glinting on the silver chain around her neck against the crisp white blouse beneath her blazer.

The same emerald that once sat on her ring finger.

Now, it rested on a chain close to her heart—a quiet, steadfast reminder of a life paused but not forgotten.

Her heels clicked steadily along the polished tile floor. A few junior officers straightened instinctively as she passed, some offering polite nods. Serena didn't demand respect through volume or force—she commanded it with presence.

And ever since her appointment as General Counsel for the Agency, that presence had only grown.

She was the youngest to hold the post in the agency's modern history, and one of the few with as much field experience as she had legal credibility. It was, as Everett had once muttered to Val during a meeting, "like if Jason Bourne and Ruth Bader Ginsburg had a daughter, and she drank espresso instead of water."

Felicita had said nothing when the appointment came through. She hadn't needed to. The way her usually steely eyes softened when Serena walked into a room said more than any congratulatory words ever could.

Even Val had managed a quiet, genuine "You make us proud," in a rare moment when she wasn't threatening to throw a briefing book at a new analyst.

Everett had just handed her a black Montblanc pen and muttered, "Don't let the bureaucrats eat you alive."

Now, three months in, Serena split her time between high-level agency oversight, advising on covert legality, and training new recruits—offering sharp lectures on operational ethics and tactical procedure with a clarity only someone who'd survived it could provide.

It was during one of those training sessions, after she finished a brutally thorough sparring demonstration in the gym, that a Division Head from Counter-Intel—Michael Hale—approached her.

He was smart, good-looking in a clean-cut, squared-jaw sort of way. He was also persistent.

"Agent Pierce," he said with a warm grin. "Dinner sometime? Just dinner. No hidden agendas."

She'd blinked at him. "Michael, I'm flattered, but... I'm not sure I'm dating right now."

"Then I'll keep asking every two weeks," he replied casually. "Figure by Christmas I might wear you down."

That had been last week. The offer hung in the back of her mind, unanswered, like an unopened message. Her heart wasn't ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So the emerald stayed on its chain.

Outside of Langley, life slowly unfurled for her again. Not with the speed of someone sprinting away from grief—but like a flower blooming through frost, cautious but determined.

She started doing ballet again, something she hadn't touched in nearly a decade.

Her private instructor, Madame Clémence, had raised a brow when she'd first walked back into the studio, as she hadn't seen her since she was 18 and preparing for Julliard.

"You again," the woman had said in French. "I thought you'd gone to war."

"I did," Serena had answered in the same language. "Now I want to remember what it's like to feel light."

Her leg, once injured during a Swan Lake fall when she was eighteen, still ached in the cold. But with enough strength training, she could still wear pointe shoes. She danced quietly, with no performance in mind—just herself and the music. Reclaiming what was once hers.

And somehow, unexpectedly, she started baking...and enjoying it.

At first it was a disaster. She burned madeleines. Nearly cried over collapsed macarons. But then, something clicked. The discipline of pastry work—precision, patience, order—was familiar. Comforting. So she tried again. Mille-feuille. Tarte au citron. Croissants.

Felicita walked into the kitchen one morning, saw a tray of still-warm financiers, and blinked.

"You... baked these?"

Serena, flour on her cheek, had simply said, "Don't get used to it."

But her mother had smiled softly and eaten two.

The biggest surprise, though, was her return to equestrian life.

It had been years, but as soon as she climbed onto the back of Fantôme Blanc—or Quantum, as she called him—something inside her eased. She rode often now, early in the morning or during golden hour, jumping fences and galloping across the Pierce family's estate grounds in Alexandria.

Felicita, long a champion show-jumper in her own right, brought Belle Époque to the stables again too. They'd ride side by side, sometimes silent, sometimes talking, always connected in a way only mother and daughter could be when no one was watching.

"I missed this," Serena had murmured one evening as they dismounted in the golden light.

"I never stopped hoping you'd come back to it," her mother replied.

She also played piano again. Not to perform, not to impress—but for herself. Nocturnes and preludes in the quiet of the evening, her fingers dancing like they once had on keys before they ever held a weapon.

One rainy Tuesday morning, Serena was finishing paperwork in her office when her phone vibrated.

Lewis:
Hey, S.  Come to Abu Dhabi for the Grand Prix? I t's me and Nico for the championship. I need you there.

She stared at the message for a long moment.

He'd been checking in every week. Quick video chats. Memes. Bad selfies. A few late-night calls when he couldn't sleep, and neither could she. He never pushed her to talk about Steve. Or the baby. Or DC or Sokovia, or even the Accords of that matter. He just... was there. Like a lighthouse in the fog.

She bit her bottom lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Then, she typed:

SERENA:
You racing like hell?

LEWIS:
Like my life depends on it ...and because I can't let my teammate/your ex win.  Please come.  I'll fly you over.

She exhaled.

For the first time in months, the thought of getting on a plane didn't fill her with dread. The idea of watching the race—the thrill, the adrenaline, the community she'd once called family—felt... like something she wanted.

Serena tapped her reply.

SERENA:
Fine. But only if you make it worth it.  No excuses. I want pole position and the win.  Or I'm flying home mid-race.

The typing dots appeared immediately.

LEWIS:
Deal.  Welcome back, S.

And just like that, the fog began to lift.

Not all at once.

But enough for her to start living again.

2 Weeks Later

The desert had never looked more electric.

Under the iconic glowing lights of Yas Marina, the 2016 season reached its nail-biting finale. The atmosphere pulsed with tension, championship hopes hanging in the balance. In the end, Nico clinched his long-awaited title—his first and only—edging out Lewis in a race that was as strategic as it was personal.

Lewis, despite every last-ditch effort to help Sebastian or Max slip past Nico, couldn't swing the outcome. He didn't win the title, but as the dust settled and the media buzzed, Lewis found solace in something else entirely.

Joy.

Chaos.

The people he loved.

That night, Lewis posted a video on Instagram—a tribute to the whirlwind weekend. The internet wasn't ready.

@lewishamilton:  Not the result we wanted, but wouldn't trade this weekend for anything. Here's to the chaos, the legends, and my favorite people. 🎬💙

The video opened in black-and-white, slow motion, set to the sweeping elegance of The Blue Danube. A perfect contrast to the pure, unfiltered madness it was about to unveil.

Nick Pierce appeared first, arms outstretched in the middle of the nighttime paddock like he was declaring world peace. Instead, he bellowed:

"CROFTY, I LOVE YOU!"

Somewhere behind him, Serena's voice rang out like an emphatic echo. "OH YEAH!"

The shot cut to David Croft mid-broadcast, pausing like someone had just whispered complete nonsense into his earpiece. He looked directly at the camera, blinking.

"What... was that?"

Backstage at the Sky Sports lounge, Serena was sprawled across a white couch in exaggerated heartbreak, one arm over her eyes, a picture of dramatic despair. Opposite her, Sebastian Vettel sat with a notepad and glasses, wearing the expression of a therapist who had already clocked out for the day.

"And how did that make you feel?" he asked without blinking.

Serena sighed deeply. "Like Nick took my last macaron and didn't even say thank you."

"We'll have to unpack that," Seb said solemnly.

A brief laugh from behind the camera—Lewis, barely holding it together.

Then came the most ridiculous, most charming shot: Lewis, dressed in all black with sunglasses, offering a gloved hand to Serena, who wore a breezy white off-the-shoulder dress and stilettos. Without speaking, the two began waltzing—full, over-the-top ballroom style—down the actual pitlane.

Flourishes. Spinning twirls. At one point Serena dipped Lewis.

In the background, Toto Wolff could be seen shaking his head, arms crossed. "Every bloody year," he muttered in German.

Peter Bonnington (Bono), standing next to him, just sighed and muttered, "Waltzing? Of course they are."

Cut to Nick leaning into Paul di Resta's mic during a live segment.

"Hey Paul," he whispered, "tell everyone about Monaco karaoke. You remember. 2014."

Paul turned so slowly he might've combusted on the spot. "You are so dead."

It only got more unhinged.

But nothing, nothing, topped what came next.

The rooftop afterparty. The beat of Will Smith's "Wild Wild West" blasted over the speakers. The crowd parted to reveal Serena, Lewis, Nick, and Alison in cowboy hats and boots—poorly timed but absolutely committed.

They launched into the Wild Wild West line dance like their lives depended on it.

Lewis added a moonwalk halfway through. Serena did the finger guns. Nick fell behind on the last spin but made up for it with energy.

Then the camera panned to reveal Will Smith himself, standing on the side of the dance floor, arms crossed like a judge on Dancing with the Stars.

He nodded slowly. "Okay. Serena's got rhythm. Lewis, I see you. Nick? You're on probation. Alison—Queen behavior...makes sense since she was a cheerleader for the Cowboys."

Daniel Ricciardo, fully three drinks deep, was hanging over the railing, yelling, "GO YOU LEGENDS!"

Next came a montage of Serena and Lewis, arm in arm, screaming Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" at the top of their lungs with Daniel, an unlucky Ferrari engineer, and Jenson Button joining in halfway through.

At some point, Serena shoved a glittery hat onto Nick's head and screamed, "YOU'RE THE STAR OF THE SHOW!"

He didn't argue. In fact, he embraced it like a man auditioning for Magic Mike: Motorsport Edition.

Back in the paddock lounge, Alison—clipboard in hand, expression cold as stone—was scolding Nick, who had apparently spilled espresso on her Valentino dress.

"This was couture!" she snapped.

"I said I'd pay for dry cleaning!" Nick argued, halfway through a biscuit.  Serena and Lewis were filmed in the paddock lounge, laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. Daniel joined halfway through, swiping her clipboard like a sword and declaring himself "Head of Paddock Security." 

The video closed with Sebastian again, this time holding up a laminated sign that simply read: "Group Therapy – Session #2."

It faded to black as the waltz reached its crescendo.

The post detonated online.

@danielricciardo: Legends only. Nick's knees will never recover.

@willsmith: Best line dancers in the paddock. Almost better than me.

@badgirlriri: I need to be invited next year, wtf.

@skyf1: We're submitting the therapy couch footage to the BAFTAs.

@lewishamilton (replying to himself): Worth more than any title. 💙

@tonystark: This is why I stopped sponsoring after 2014. No discipline.

@serenapierce: 🎬 chaos. class. croissants.

2 Months Later

Location: Langley, Virginia

Serena tried dating again.

She really did.

But nothing seemed...real.

The date had been... fine.

He was handsome, polished, well-spoken — a division head in one of Langley's more buttoned-up units. He had a surprisingly dry sense of humor and had even read one of the obscure Russian philosophers she used to quote back when she was still neck-deep in Cold War-style intel ops.

And yet, when he leaned in at the end of the evening — polite, curious, hopeful — Serena gently, but unmistakably, turned her head.

He didn't press. He just smiled and stepped back. "Another time," he said softly.

She'd nodded, grateful, even if she wasn't sure there would ever be another time.

2 Days Later

Nick had been watching her stir her coffee absently for the better part of ten minutes before he finally spoke up.

"You're not even putting sugar in that."

Serena blinked and looked down. "Oh."

He took the seat across from her. "You okay?"

She gave a half-hearted shrug. "Fine."

Nick studied her carefully, then leaned forward. "T'Challa wants to speak to me in Wakanda."

That made her lift her eyes, curious. "What for?"

"Something diplomatic. Long conversations. Politics. Vibranium. I don't know yet." He took a slow sip of his coffee before continuing. "I'll be there about a month. Ali's coming with me, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."

Serena blinked. "To Wakanda?"

"Yeah. You could use a change of scenery."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly your idea of a tropical vacation."

"Who said anything about vacation?" Nick smirked. "There's a gala. T'Challa's hosting something with the Dora Milaje and UN liaisons. Bring something formal. Or don't. Whatever floats your diplomatic boat."

That made her snort. "You're a menace."

But she paused. Considered.

A month. Away from Virginia. Away from Langley. Away from the ghosts still trailing her like shadows.

"...Can I bring Quantum?"

Nick smiled. "Already arranged a paddock."

"And Molly?" 

Nick sighed. "Fine."

1 Week Later

The Wakandan transport jet landed on a clear, golden morning. From above, the vast, breathtaking canopy of greenery and futuristic silver vibranium towers glittered like gemstones nestled in the hills.

Quantum — her dapple-grey gelding — was already being unloaded by Wakandan animal handlers, and she watched with careful eyes as he was led toward his private stall near the Royal Stables.

"I swear he's got better accommodations than I do," she muttered, shielding her eyes from the sun.

Nick chuckled beside her, his travel duffel slung over his shoulder. "Well, he is prettier."

"Bite me."

They were greeted by two Dora Milaje guards and led to a sleek, curved palace entrance, where T'Challa himself was waiting.

"Serena. Always a pleasure," he said, bowing his head slightly. "Wakanda welcomes you."

She smiled warmly. "Your Highness, it is an honor to be here, I am in complete disbelief at how beautiful your country is. My brother clearly didn't do it justice."

T'Challa smiled. "Hunter, doesn't have a way with words."

"He's not wrong." Alison nodded in agreement.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Now I'm just chopped liver?"

"You're practically family," T'Challa said smoothly. "Serena still has to be impressed."

T'Challa walked them into the palace and explained logistics: the gala would be held two nights from now. It would be formal, elegant, a celebration of global unity and the strides Wakanda was making on the world stage.

Serena nodded, already mentally unpacking her garment bag.

She had brought something special — a silken, blue Chanel gown with a cinched waist and flowing skirt, delicate straps over her shoulders, and a subtle shimmer in the light. It was a modern homage to Grace Kelly's iconic gown from To Catch a Thief — elegant, timeless, regal.

She hadn't worn a dress like it since before Vienna.

She hadn't worn a dress like that for herself in even longer.

Quantum was settled in. She had walked him along the edge of the Wakandan gardens just as the sun was setting, his hooves clipping softly against the rich earth.

Now, she stood on the balcony of her quarters, the vibrant city of Birnin Zana glowing beneath her. The stars above looked clearer here, untouched by pollution, by noise, by the burden of Washington.

She didn't know that across the palace — deep in a more secure wing — Steve was sitting in front of a monitor, watching Barnes go through another session of deprogramming with Shuri.

She didn't know that Sam was here too, or that Natasha had quietly flown in the day before.

She didn't know that Bucky still hadn't fully remembered the truth about her — only fragments, distorted by what Alexander Pierce had poisoned his mind with in D.C. She was still, in Bucky's haunted memories, a threat. A name to fear.

She just thought Wakanda was a month-long escape.

But her past was always just one step behind.

2 Days Later

The warm Wakandan sun spilled over the hillside like honey as Quantum's hooves moved in a smooth canter through the tall golden grass. Serena sat astride her gelding like she had a thousand times before — back straight, fingers light on the reins, eyes focused ahead. She wore breeches, tall black boots, and a crisp white blouse, the wind teasing loose strands of hair from her low twist.

The air was rich with blooming hibiscus and something older, more ancient — a scent she hadn't yet placed but now associated deeply with Wakanda.

Quantum gave a happy snort, clearly enjoying the freedom of the wide open fields as much as she did.

She was mid-turn, angling toward a small rise, when Ayo appeared from the tree line, composed and graceful in her crimson Dora Milaje armor.

"Miss Pierce," Ayo called out, her voice smooth with authority.

Serena brought Quantum to a halt with an easy tug and dismounted in one fluid motion. "Ayo," she greeted, brushing a hand over Quantum's flank.

"It's time to prepare for the gala."

Serena nodded, brushing a strand of hair back. "Right. Let me get him back to the stables."

Ayo's expression softened just slightly as she watched Serena walk beside the horse, something respectful — maybe even protective — in her eyes. The Dora had seen many warriors, many diplomats, but Serena was a breed all her own.

The room was still when Serena stepped into it. Not in silence — the string quartet was playing, glasses were clinking, dignitaries were mid-conversation — but still in that way where time hiccups, just for a second.

She descended the sweeping staircase, wearing the blue Grace Kelly gown she'd packed so carefully.

It was exquisite. A pale, powdery blue silk that shimmered under the golden chandeliers. The bodice was elegantly structured with a sweetheart neckline, cinched at the waist with a ribbon of satin. The skirt flowed like rippling water, full and sweeping but light enough to move like air. Her hair was gathered into a polished chignon, a few soft tendrils framing her face.

Around her neck, on a delicate silver chain, her emerald engagement ring glinted softly.

At the bottom of the staircase, Steve was deep in conversation with Sam, both of them dressed in traditional black-tie, the kind rarely seen outside State dinners and war memorials.

Steve glanced up mid-sentence — and froze.

He blinked, his lips parting slightly. If he were still a painter, he would've abandoned a hundred canvases to try to recreate the picture walking toward him.

Next to him, Sam let out a low whistle. "Well, damn... she looks like Cinderella."

Steve didn't answer. He was too busy remembering every inch of her — the way her posture never quite lost that military steel, even in a ballgown. The way her eyes scanned a room in soft calculation, never letting her guard down, even surrounded by royalty.

Serena didn't notice them. Not right away.

She was intercepted by Queen Ramonda, radiant and commanding in white and gold. They fell into polite conversation, Serena offering sincere compliments on Wakanda's progress in diplomatic relations. Ramonda smiled knowingly, her gaze flicking briefly toward Steve before returning to Serena.

Moments later, Serena excused herself from the ballroom, needing air. The soft music faded behind her as she stepped into the palace gardens, where lanterns glowed like fireflies and the hum of the night replaced the swell of the orchestra.

She walked slowly down a stone path lined with flowering vines, her skirts brushing over the stones, the faint scent of gardenia clinging to the breeze.

She didn't hear his footsteps.

But she felt him.

"I wasn't sure you'd be here," Steve said softly behind her.

Serena turned slowly, her expression unreadable. The moonlight caught in her eyes, and for a moment, they looked like glass.

"I didn't know you would be," she answered quietly.

Steve took a step closer, his tux jacket unbuttoned, his hands nervously clenched at his sides. "You look—"

"Don't," she cut in, voice tight. "Please."

He paused. Nodded. "Okay."

They stood in the silence for a beat, before Serena glanced toward the distant edge of the gardens.

"You came here for him," she said. Not a question.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I came here to forget you."

That landed between them like a flare — soft, burning, impossible to ignore.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Steve said, his voice fraying. "I just—Bucky needed help. And I—"

"You kissed Sharon."

He froze.

She shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes but refusing to fall. "You kissed her, Steve. After everything we went through. After us."

"It was a mistake," he said immediately. "It wasn't—It wasn't what I wanted. I was confused. Hurt. I didn't know what was happening with us and—"

"And you left," she whispered. "You left me. After everything."

"I thought I was doing the right thing—"

"You always think you're doing the right thing. And people get hurt in the wake of it. And this time... it was me."

That silence again. Heavy. Almost cruel.

Steve looked at her, really looked. At the ring around her neck. At the way her shoulders were pulled so tightly, it was as though she was trying to hold herself together through sheer tension.

"I still love you," he said, voice hoarse.

Serena looked away. "I know."

"But I don't expect anything from you," he added quickly. "Not forgiveness. Not now. Maybe not ever. I just... I needed to say it."

She turned to face him, eyes shining, but unreadable. "You don't get to decide when I forgive you."

"I know."

And then she did something unexpected.

She stepped forward, slowly — and rested her head against his chest.

Just for a moment.

Not to rekindle anything. Not to offer absolution.

But because once, a long time ago, she felt safe there. And maybe, for one second, she just needed that again.

When she pulled back, she looked up at him with calm clarity.

"I'm not ready to talk about everything. But I'm here."

Steve nodded. "That's enough."

She glanced back toward the ballroom. "You should go. People will wonder."

"I'll wait."

"No," she said gently. "Not this time."

And with that, Serena turned and walked back down the lantern-lit path, back toward the party, leaving Steve in the moonlight — holding onto the pieces of something he wasn't sure he could ever put back together.

Later That Night

The palace was silent under the cloak of night, save for the soft chirping of insects beyond the open balcony doors. The moonlight bled through gauzy curtains, casting silver shadows across the marble floors. Inside the private suite Serena had been given, the world was still.

Molly lifted her head first.

The golden retriever blinked, ears perking. Then her tail thumped once. Twice.

And then—

She leapt from the plush armchair by the window, paws tapping lightly as she bounded toward the door. She gave a soft bark, just once, before her tail began wagging uncontrollably.

Serena stirred in her bed, groggy, frowning at the sudden movement. She sat up slowly, the silk sheets pooling at her waist, her hair tousled from sleep.

“Molly?” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

The dog gave another whine, pawing at the door with excitement—just as it opened.

And there he was.

Steve.

Tired eyes. Tousled hair. Dressed in a plain dark t-shirt and joggers, barefoot, his posture uncertain in the doorway. He hadn’t knocked.

He didn’t have to.

Serena froze.

Molly, ever the emotional barometer, rushed to Steve and leaned her full weight into his legs, tail thumping wildly as she licked his hand.

“Hey, Molls,” Steve murmured, crouching to pet her. “Missed you too.”

His voice was quiet. Scratchy. Like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Maybe days.

Serena’s throat was dry. “Steve…”

He looked up. Met her eyes.

And he stepped inside.

She didn’t stop him.

The door whispered shut behind him as he crossed the room slowly, his hands at his sides, as if unsure if he was welcome. Serena didn’t move, not yet. Her heart was hammering.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I’ve been trying for days. Weeks.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Nat told me,” he added, voice breaking slightly. “About the baby.”

Serena’s breath caught.

His eyes were glassy. “Serena, I didn’t know. God, I didn’t know.”

She looked away, fingers clutching the bedsheets.

“I would’ve come back. I would’ve—” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t tell anyone. Not at first. Not even myself.”

Steve stepped closer but kept his distance. “You went through it alone.”

“I wasn’t ready to say it out loud,” she whispered. “If I said it, it would be real. I could feel it before I saw the blood. I knew something had shifted. Something had been taken from me. And I couldn’t even scream.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, his eyes filled with guilt.

“I lost everything in one moment,” she said, finally looking at him. “You. The baby. Myself.”

He nodded slowly. “I know I broke something when I left. And then Bucky…” He shook his head, jaw clenched. “I’ve been carrying that pain too. I know it doesn’t compare, but—when Nat told me what you lost—God, Ser, I couldn’t breathe. I felt like someone had carved out my chest.”

Serena blinked, stunned.

“You’re not the only one grieving,” he said. “I was holding on to him so tightly—trying to save what little was left of my past—and in doing that, I almost destroyed my future.”

Tears blurred her vision.

He stepped forward then. Close enough to see the faint scars still healing on her skin.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Steve said gently. “But I want you to know—I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you. I never stopped. I will never stop.”

Her lip trembled. “Then why did you go?”

“Because I thought I had to,” he whispered. “Because I thought saving Bucky was the only way I could make peace with the past. But it cost me the peace I already had—with you.”

Silence hung between them. Until she asked, quietly, “What happened after you the jet?”

Steve exhaled and sank onto the edge of the bed, facing away from her.

"I got Bucky out. We made it to Siberia…found the other super soldiers. But they were already dead. Zemo, the doctor from Berlin—he was behind all of it. He wanted us to destroy each other.”

“Did you?”

He looked at her then, truly looked.

“I lost the shield.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Tony found out what Bucky did. About his parents. And he…he lost it. We fought. God, Serena, we fought. And when it was over…I left the shield behind. He said I didn’t deserve it.”

She inhaled sharply.

“T’Challa gave Bucky asylum here in Wakanda. He’s safe. Shuri and the Dora are removing the programming. Nick approved it.”

She nodded, processing.

“I know you have your walls up,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “I know it’s the only way you’ve been able to keep yourself upright these past few months.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I know you, Serena. I know what you’re like when those walls come down. I know the way you breathe differently when you’re safe. The way you sleep better when someone’s beside you. The way your laugh sounds when it’s real.”

He turned, fully facing her now.

“And I know I ruined that. But I want to find it again. I want to find you again.”

Her fingers went to her neck unconsciously—the chain, the emerald.

His eyes flicked down, and something shattered in his chest.

“You still wear it,” he said softly.

Serena looked down. Her hand rested on the gem.

“I never took it off,” she whispered. “Even when I wanted to hate you.”

Steve’s voice cracked. “I want to try again. If you’ll let me.”

She stared at him. “How?”

He stood, slowly, then held out his hand.

“Hi,” he said gently, eyes never leaving hers. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

Serena blinked. Her heart leapt to her throat.

“You’re seriously starting over?” she asked, stunned.

He nodded. “If that’s what it takes.”

For a moment, she just stared.

Then—

She reached out, placing her hand in his.

“Hi,” she whispered. “I’m Serena Pierce.”

Steve gave a soft smile.

“So,” he said carefully, “does this mean we’re in the dating phase again?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “Don’t push your luck, Rogers.”

“Too late.” He smirked. “Can I kiss you again?”

She didn’t answer with words.

Instead, she leaned forward slowly, her fingers brushing his cheek. And then—

She kissed him.

Soft.

Slow.

Unrushed.

A kiss that wasn’t about lust or pain or desperate forgiveness.

A kiss that said: I remember us.

When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his.

“I still love you,” she whispered.

Steve cupped her jaw gently, his thumb brushing her cheek.

“I’ll never stop loving you, honey.”

Molly gave a happy sigh from the floor, tail thumping once more.

And for the first time in months—

They sat together in the same rhythm.

Not as the people they used to be.

But as the people they were now—

Older.

Softer.

Wounded.

But still choosing each other.

Still reaching.

Still trying.

And for tonight… that was enough.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 40: Chapter 40

The Next Morning

The morning light bathed the palace in a gentle gold, cutting through the gauzy white curtains and flooding the halls with a warmth that contrasted the cool marble beneath Serena’s bare feet.

She walked slowly, quietly, dressed in loose cream linen pants and a sleeveless silk top, her hair braided down her back in a long, clean line. No makeup, no armor. Just herself. And for once, that felt like enough.

The previous night still sat with her like a secret—like something too fragile to say aloud. Steve was gone when she woke up, but only to spar with T’Challa. He’d left her a note, short and scrawled in his old-world handwriting:

“Went to a meeting with T'Challa. Don’t run off and start an international incident without me. — S.”

She’d smiled reading it.

Now she wandered through the inner gardens of the palace, brushing her fingers along the vibrant purple and gold flowers that lined the curved stone paths. The air smelled like eucalyptus and jasmine, carried on the wind that whispered through the trees.

She was rounding the corner near the koi pond when she heard the familiar sound of boots scuffing stone.

And a voice, just as familiar:

“Cinderella? Is that you?”

Serena turned—

“Sam,” she said, smiling instantly.

He was in casual clothes, a Wakandan-stitched tee and cargo pants, sunglasses perched on his forehead. He looked surprised for half a second, then broke into a wide grin.

“Damn, girl,” he said, walking up with arms wide. “You’re out here living the postwar dream. I almost didn't recognize you last night.”

Serena laughed, stepping into his hug. “I’m doing something like living, yeah.”

Sam pulled back, looking at her like he was sizing her up. “You look good. Better.”

“I’m getting there.”

Before she could say more, another voice cut through:

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Miss Ballroom Assassin.”

Serena turned and found Natasha standing just behind Sam, arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. She wore her tactical blacks, but her expression was easy, even amused.

“Romanoff,” Serena said, eyes warming. “You do know how to find me, don’t you?”

“I always know where you are,” Natasha replied. “It’s part of my job description.”

They met in a hug that was tighter than expected and lingered just a moment longer than either of them would admit to needing.

When they broke apart, Natasha gave her a once-over. “You’ve got color in your face again. You baking now, or did your mother finally stop force-feeding you espresso and trauma?”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Both. Sort of. I’m in recovery.”

Sam grinned. “That’s the most Serena answer I’ve ever heard.”

They started walking, the three of them falling into an easy rhythm beneath the flowering trees.

“So,” Sam asked, nudging her gently with his elbow. “Is Hill here?”

Serena shook her head. “No, she’s on recon for Fury. Embedded deep in Montenegro.”

“Montenegro?” he echoed. “What the hell’s there?”

“A very, very disgruntled oligarch who thinks buying a Russian submarine makes him untouchable,” Serena replied dryly.

Sam whistled. “Damn. You know how to pick your friends.”

“I do,” she said, smiling faintly.

Then she reached into her pocket, pulled out a slim black card, and handed it to him.

“Secure line. Goes straight to her signal relay. Tell her I sent you.”

Sam took the card and tucked it into his chest pocket. “Appreciate it. I’ve been needing to get in touch. Just… make sure she’s got an exit plan.”

Serena’s brow lifted. “It’s Hill. She wrote the damn exit plan.”

Natasha gave a soft, knowing snort.

The three of them continued walking, past carved stone archways and into the sunlit edge of the palace gardens. It felt like the world had slowed for a moment—like nothing else existed outside of this moment.

No war.

No politics.

No ghosts.

Just old friends.

Old pain.

And maybe, finally… the beginning of something new.

And Serena—finally—let herself breathe.

Later That Day

The sun was beginning its slow descent behind the mountains of Wakanda, casting golden warmth over the sandstone and vibranium-sculpted walls of Birnin Zana. The air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, roasted meats, and the delicate floral notes of native blossoms sold by street vendors lining the winding marketplace.

Serena walked beside Steve, her hand loosely linked with his as they strolled through the bustling market square. It wasn’t quite a date—not in the traditional sense. But it was something. A beginning. A soft return to each other beneath the hum of Wakandan life.

Her hair, normally loose and tousled, had been swept into a casual braid that draped over her right shoulder. It was rare to see her like this. No tactical suit, no sharp heels. Just a pair of white linen pants and a sleeveless pale blue silk blouse tucked neatly at the waist, paired with strappy brown sandals. Casual, effortless, regal without trying. The glint of her emerald engagement ring still sat nestled on the silver chain around her neck, resting close to her heart.

She stopped at one of the vendor stalls, marveling at a spread of handmade vibranium-threaded jewelry — delicately forged pieces that shimmered with light-reactive stones. She picked up one, gently running her thumb over the intricate etching on the side.

"Beautiful craftsmanship," she murmured, her voice low and reverent.

Steve smiled as he watched her, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He was in a dark charcoal t-shirt and khakis, simple and worn. His boots were the same ones he'd worn since Bucharest—scuffed but reliable. He looked every bit like the soldier-turned-ghost the world no longer knew what to do with.

“You’re fascinated,” he said softly.

She glanced at him, that lopsided smirk tugging at her mouth. “Can you blame me? Wakanda is nothing like what Nick told me. I thought it was jungle. Caves. Smoke signals and goats.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re describing your father’s version of Wakanda. Not T’Challa’s.”

“No,” Serena said, shaking her head with a quiet smile, “I’m describing Nick’s version. My father would’ve called this place a threat. Nick just calls it ‘an off-the-grid vacation with an airspace issue.’” She paused, eyes drifting upward to the sky-scraping towers in the distance. “But this? This is incredible.”

Steve nodded slowly, taking it all in—the colors, the culture, the technology so advanced it made Stark Tech look rustic. “Howard Stark used to talk about Wakanda like it was a myth. Said it was all superstition and fables. I guess… part of me believed him. Until now.”

Serena raised a brow. “Howard thought anything outside of New York was superstition.”

Steve smirked.

As they walked, the Wakandans gave them space—not out of fear or reverence, but respect. They knew who Serena was. They knew who Steve was. And more importantly, they understood what it meant to heal. To grieve. To return.

She reached for Steve’s hand again, threading her fingers through his.

“You always walk like you’re scouting for snipers,” she teased.

He glanced at her. “Force of habit.”

Her eyes gleamed, a rare softness warming them. “You don’t have to do that here.”

He looked down at their joined hands, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Old habits die hard.”

They paused near a bakery stall, where a Wakandan woman offered them warm flatbread filled with spiced vegetables and roasted meat. Serena spoke to the vendor in fluent French, her tone melodic and warm.

“Combien pour deux, madame?” she asked, tilting her head.

The woman smiled, answering back easily, handing them the folded bread wrapped in banana leaves. Serena thanked her—“Merci beaucoup, c’était magnifique"—and handed one to Steve.

He took it, eyes fond.

“You always did sound different in French.”

She arched a brow. “Different how?”

Steve hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Softer, maybe. Or deadlier, depending on the situation.”

Serena laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

Flashback

 

Amsterdam, 2014

Serena crouched beside Steve on a rooftop, rain slicking the black Kevlar of her SHIELD issued mission suit. Her hands were trembling slightly—more from adrenaline than fear—as they watched the arms deal below unfold.

 

She muttered under her breath, “Putain de merde… That’s not the buyer we expected.”

Steve glanced over. “What does that mean?”

She ignored him, eyes narrowed, and muttered again in rapid French, “Si cette opération échoue à cause de cette connerie bureaucratique, je jure que je tue quelqu’un.”

“Right,” he said. “I caught ‘operation,’ ‘bureaucratic,’ and ‘kill someone.’ That last part I understood clearly.”

She smirked through the scope. “I talk to myself when I’m stressed. French calms me.”

PRESENT DAY

Steve chuckled at the memory as he bit into the flatbread. “You also mutter in French during…”

He paused, eyebrows raised suggestively.

Serena choked slightly on her bite. “I what?”

He laughed. “Not a complaint. Just… an observation.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks pink. “Well, consider it classified intel.”

They shared a quiet smile, walking slowly along the marketplace as the sun began to dip lower. Musicians played light percussion rhythms in the distance, and children ran past with bright scarves trailing behind them like wings.

Unbeknownst to them, a little farther down the market, Nick stood beneath a shaded awning beside Alison. He was holding a carved cup of some local coffee and had stopped mid-sip when he spotted them.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured, nudging Alison with his elbow. “Look.”

She followed his gaze, then smiled softly.

Steve was leaning slightly toward Serena, listening intently as she laughed—really laughed—at something he’d said. Her posture was easy, her body open. She hadn’t looked like that in over a year.

Nick sipped his coffee, his tone softening. “Guess they’re trying again.”

Alison reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “They never really stopped.”

Nick didn’t respond, but the faint smirk pulling at his lips spoke volumes.

One Week Later

The air over Birnin Zana was warm and scented with the sharp-sweet aroma of night-blooming flowers. A soft breeze wound its way through the draped balcony curtains of Serena’s private suite—though “private” hadn’t really applied in a week.

Not since Steve had moved into her room.

Well, not officially. But his boots now sat at the edge of her closet. His dog tags lay tangled in a ceramic dish beside her perfume bottle. And most nights, his arm was draped securely around her waist, his breath steady against the back of her neck as they slept curled together beneath a linen duvet.

And for the first time in months—she was sleeping.

Not restlessly. Not broken. Not in fits of silence with the ghost of grief clinging to her ribs.

But truly sleeping.

Because Steve was there.

Because he was real again—not a ghost from a Quinjet hangar or a man fading into the Wakandan shadows.

And she—she was beginning to feel like herself again.

Not Viper. Not General Counsel. Not Felicita’s daughter or Nick’s sister or Fury’s legacy.

Just Serena.

They hadn’t tiptoed around it, either. The night after their walk through the marketplace had ended with soft kisses, laughter muffled by shared sheets, and whispered apologies buried in skin-on-skin. They didn’t race toward passion; they fell into it gently—like muscle memory, like the familiarity of two puzzle pieces finally returning to their original shape.

And ever since then, they hadn’t spent a night apart.

There were quiet moments now—real ones. Mornings where he kissed the slope of her shoulder just before sunrise. Afternoons in the palace gardens, where he read while she ran strategic briefs for Langley on a StarkPad. Evenings spent wrapped in a blanket by the fireplace in her suite, trading stories and jokes like they hadn’t forgotten how to smile.

Serena hadn’t worn her engagement ring back on her finger.

Not yet.

But the chain it hung on no longer weighed down her chest. Instead, it rested lightly against her collarbone—as if no longer a symbol of loss, but of potential.

She was brushing out her hair near the vanity when her secure line rang.

The old one.

She arched a brow, answered it, and was immediately met with the sound of irritation seasoned with exhaustion.

“Why the hell did you give Sam Wilson my direct line?” Maria snapped without preamble.

Serena blinked. “Hi to you too.”

Maria groaned. “Do you know how many encrypted messages I’ve had to decrypt while also trying to keep Fury from starting a proxy war in Montenegro over a missing hydroplane?”

“…Are you still in Montenegro?”

“Yes,” Maria said, as if it should have been obvious. “With Fury. Not that it matters. Because apparently, Sam ‘just wants to visit.’”

Serena choked down a laugh. “You did sleep with him.”

“Once!”

“You told me it was multiple times.”

Maria went silent for a beat. “Fine. Three times. But I didn’t give him my secure number.”

“Well, now he has it,” Serena said with a smirk.

“You’re dead to me.”

Serena grinned and glanced toward the bed, where Steve had just stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp from a shower. He gave her a curious look.

“Maria,” she mouthed, holding the phone up slightly.

Steve mouthed back, “Tell her Sam says hi.”

She snorted, and Maria heard it.

“Was that Steve? If he’s in your room, I’m hanging up before I hear anything.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I work for Fury. I’ve earned it.”

“Sam wants to visit,” Serena reminded her. “Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to let someone care.”

There was a pause. Then Maria said, softer than before, “…You’re one to talk.”

Serena blinked.

Then smiled faintly. “Touché.”

They hung up a few minutes later with the promise of a proper debrief when Maria got back stateside.

Serena tossed the phone aside and walked toward the bed, where Steve had pulled on a black t-shirt and grey joggers. He sat with one leg drawn up, quietly polishing his old wrist compass that now had a picture of him and serena inside.

He glanced up at her, eyes warm. “Everything okay?”

“Maria’s having a meltdown,” she said, sliding beside him on the bed. “Apparently Sam’s being persistent.”

Steve grinned. “He’s good at that.”

Serena nudged his shoulder with her own, then leaned her head against him.

They sat there for a beat—quiet, the hum of the Wakandan night thick and comforting.

Then Steve exhaled.

“They’re planning to defrost Bucky in a few days.”

Serena didn’t move.

His voice stayed low. “Shuri thinks she’s found a way to fully remove the code. He’s been stable. Dreamless. But it’s time to try.”

Serena swallowed. “Are you going to be there?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She hesitated. Then: “I want to be there, too.”

Steve turned to look at her, brow furrowed. “Ser, you don’t have to. He… he hurt you.”

“I know.” She paused. “But if I’m ever going to move past it… really move past it, I need to see him. As he is. Not just as the man who shot me.”

Steve’s hand found hers, gently intertwining their fingers.

“You don’t have to forgive him.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. “But I need to stop being afraid of him. I’ve fought worse things. Hell, I was worse things once.”

He looked at her then—truly looked. And for a moment, he didn’t see just Serena.

He saw the woman who came back from the dead in a hospital bed. The one who fought friends in an airport hangar. The one who walked through fire and shadow and came out scarred, but still standing.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he said softly.

She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze.

And for the first time in months, there was no doubt in her eyes. No hesitation. Just truth.

“I’m still in love with you,” she whispered.

Steve leaned forward, kissing her gently—slowly—like he had all the time in the world to show her.

“I never stopped,” he whispered back.

They curled into each other, the night warm around them, the sound of the palace settling around their quiet, shared space.

Tomorrow would come.

Bucky would awaken.

There would be choices to make. Conversations to be had. Pain to unpack.

But tonight?

Tonight was theirs.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Present Day

Location: Wakanda

The light inside the Wakandan cryo-decompression chamber was dim and clinical. Stark whites. Deep blacks. Humming vibranium panels that lined the walls like sleek veins of pulsing technology.

Serena’s boots echoed softly as she stepped into the observation room with the others. A full security team of Dora Milaje stood nearby, poised but relaxed — Wakanda wasn’t worried. Not here. Not with Shuri’s tech, and T’Challa’s authority.

Serena wasn’t so confident.

She stood just to the left of the glass, arms folded tightly over her chest, dressed in a black turtleneck, dark jean, and black healed ankle-boots. Her hair was pulled up into a sleek knot — sharp, precise, guarded.

The others filtered in one by one.

Steve was already at her side.

Nick and Alison arrived next — the former carrying a cup of something that definitely wasn’t coffee (because Wakanda doesn’t serve bitter peasant water, according to him), and the latter already exasperated with him.

Natasha strode in with Sam, both still half-laughing over something that probably involved covert explosives or badly cooked pancakes. T’Challa, ever regal, entered last, flanked by Okoye and two advisors, a nod of respect shared between him and Nick.

“Hunter,” T’Challa greeted warmly.

Nick tipped his head. “Your Highness.”

“Please don’t start with the sass,” Alison muttered, rubbing her temple. “You agreed to this.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“Nick,” Serena warned quietly, without looking at him.

Shuri entered from the far panel, eyes bright, tablet in hand, wearing her signature black vibranium sleeves. “We’re ready to initiate thaw protocol. Estimated time for full decompression — twenty-four minutes. Subject will be brought out slowly. No residual triggers should remain.”

“No known triggers,” Nick muttered under his breath.

Alison elbowed him. “Not helping.”

Steve gave Serena a sidelong glance. He could see the tension in her shoulders. The way her jaw was locked. The way her fingers pressed against her upper arms like she was keeping herself together by force.

She hadn’t said anything since they walked in.

He leaned in slightly. “You okay?”

“No.” Her voice was quiet. Honest.

He didn’t press. Just gently brushed his fingers over the small of her back.

Across the room, Sam glanced around. “So… no one’s gonna say it?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”

“Anyone else weirded out that we’re literally unfreezing a super-soldier who shot Serena and threw her down a flight of stairs just a few months ago?”

Nick raised his cup. “To be fair, that’s why I’m here.”

T’Challa gave him a dry look. “You are here because you insisted on reviewing the final override programming personally.”

“And because you trust me.”

“I trust your sister,” T’Challa said, deadpan. “You’re a bonus.”

Alison snorted. Nick gasped, placing a hand on his chest. “I feel attacked.”

From inside the glass, a low hiss echoed as the cryo-pod began to defrost. Shuri tapped a few keys, speaking into the mic in Xhosa, her voice smooth and practiced.

Steam hissed from the chamber as frost began to melt. Slowly, the outline of Barnes' body became visible through the fog — strapped down lightly, surrounded by warm-blue lights and biometric regulators.

Serena exhaled sharply through her nose. Steve noticed.

He stepped closer, his hand sliding from her back to her fingers. He didn’t try to hold them, didn’t try to force comfort. Just brushed his knuckles against hers.

“I don’t trust him,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“He pulled the trigger without hesitation.”

Steve’s voice was low. “He wasn’t in control.”

“I don’t care.”

He nodded.

She swallowed. “I’m trying, Steve. I am. But every time I look at him, I see the muzzle flash. I see blood. I see what I lost.”

He turned to face her fully, cupping the side of her face. “You don’t have to see him today if it’s too much.”

“I do.” Her voice was steel. “I have to know. I have to face him. I won’t let this be something that keeps me looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

From behind them, a sharp, unexpected sound cut through the tension.

Nick’s phone.

Ringing.

Alison groaned. “You brought your phone into a high-clearance recovery room?”

“Relax,” Nick muttered, glancing at the screen. “It’s just Lewis.”

“Seriously?” Natasha said, incredulous. “Barnes is literally coming back to life and you’re taking a personal call?”

Nick shrugged. “Might be important. It’s Hamilton. The only man who can talk me into drinking herbal tea and watching Downton Abbey.”

Sam perked up. “Is that Lewis? Tell him congrats on signing Bottas.”

Nick smirked and answered. “Hey, man—yeah, we’re in Wakanda—no, literally waking up Barnes—uh huh—yeah, she’s here too.”

Serena rolled her eyes. Her phone vibrated a second later.

Lewis:
I hear we’re waking up the ice cube. Breathe, S. You’ve been through worse. And if he pulls anything, remember: you once broke Jenson’s rib for calling you ‘darling’ in front of your dad. That same night was also the night Val nicknamed Jenson 'The Silver Fox'.😎

Serena let out a breath — a soft, almost-laugh — and shook her head.

Steve glanced down at her with a raised brow. “Something funny?”

She showed him the screen.

Steve blinked. “I forgot you dated Jenson.”

“Only for a year,” she said dryly. “Before you and I were a thing. Very pre-Triskelion.”

He smirked. "You didn't tell me he called you 'darling'.”

“Because you didn’t ask.”

He shook his head, amused. “Silver Fox?”

“I hate you.”

Behind the glass, the cryo-chamber hissed louder.

The fog cleared.

Barnes' body tensed.

His eyes snapped open.

Everyone tensed.

Serena’s spine straightened like a blade.

Shuri’s voice came through the comms. “Vitals are stable. Brain wave activity is normalizing.”

Inside the chamber, Bucky shifted slowly. His eyes were clear, confused — but not vacant. He looked around, mouth parting slightly. No rage. No recognition yet. Just breathing.

Steve’s fingers closed around Serena’s hand.

Nick stepped closer to the glass.

T’Challa moved with him, Okoye a breath away from deploying her spear.

Natasha and Sam flanked either side of the doorway.

Alison stayed beside Serena.

Inside, Bucky’s eyes found Steve first.

Then Natasha.

Then—

Serena.

And they locked.

His jaw twitched.

“Pierce,” he rasped. Not angry. Just… flat.

Serena stepped forward. Carefully. One breath at a time.

She stared straight into his face, her expression unreadable.

“You shot me,” she said evenly. “You left me bleeding on a floor. You took my child from me.”

Bucky’s face fell.

The pain hit him like a brick wall — it was immediate, primal, and visible.

Steve took a step forward, but Serena held up a hand.

Bucky looked like he wanted to crumble.

“I was—” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know. I didn’t remember. I never would have—”

“But you did.” Her voice cracked. “You did.”

The room went still.

She stared at him, the weight of everything hanging between them.

Then:

“I’m not here to forgive you.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“I’m here to decide if I can ever stop hating you.”

His shoulders sagged, but he nodded. “That’s fair.”

Serena took a step back. Steve moved instantly, sliding his arm around her waist.

Nick watched quietly, arms crossed. Alison touched his hand gently, grounding him.

T’Challa nodded to Shuri, who deactivated the final locks on the chamber.

Barnes stepped out of the pod, stumbling slightly. Sam was the first to offer a hand. Bucky took it.

Serena didn’t speak again.

But she didn’t leave.

And for the first time since Berlin, she didn’t see a monster.

She saw a man trying to remember how to be human.

It wasn’t trust.

But it was a start.

3 Days Later

The war room in the Wakandan Royal Palace was quieter than usual.

T’Challa stood at the head of the vibranium-inlaid table, posture regal and restrained. On his left, Shuri tapped through projection files with measured speed, her expression unusually serious. Serena sat beside Steve, her hair braided loosely over one shoulder—something she rarely did, a silent tell of tension. Natasha leaned against the wall behind them, arms crossed, while Sam pulled his chair closer with a metallic scrape.

All of them were alert.

Because this wasn’t about politics.

This was about ghosts.

“I believe it’s time we stop reacting,” T’Challa began. “And start anticipating.”

With a flick of his hand, the holoprojector bloomed to life.

A global map appeared, littered with small red markers. Most were clustered across Eurasia and South America, with a few chillingly scattered in Eastern Africa and the U.S.

“Hydra?” Sam asked, frowning.

“Remnants of it,” Shuri answered. “But smarter. Quieter. They’re not making noise. They’re digging in.”

Serena leaned forward slightly. “What are they digging into?”

Shuri’s face darkened.

“Old SHIELD black sites,” she said. “Buried deep. Hidden under multiple levels of code. But someone—someone with access—leaked a partial list.”

Natasha looked sharply at the map. “I’ve seen a few of these before. I thought they were decommissioned after the fall.”

“So did we,” Serena murmured. “But that was the problem with SHIELD. No one ever really knew what the other hand was doing.”

Steve nodded grimly.

“Worse,” Shuri said, “some of these sites weren’t just data caches or surveillance centers. A few were project sites. Weapons. Biotech.”

She flicked to the next slide.

Files unfurled in front of them, glowing with redacted overlays. One, however, wasn't redacted. It bore Serena’s name.

Her breath caught.

She stared at the document. The title: Project MANTICORE. Date: 2013. Location: Black Site 73, Southern Ukraine. Attached: Alexander Pierce’s digital signature.

Steve turned to her. “You worked on this?”

Serena’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It was my first black site assignment after transferring from the CIA. I thought it was an intel hub.”

Natasha looked over. “What was it really?”

“A mutagenic bioweapon development program. Russian and SHIELD collaboration.” Her mouth tightened. “I was brought in for ‘oversight.’ But now I know what that meant. They needed someone they could manipulate.”

Shuri turned back to the map. “That site went dark after the Triskelion fell. It was abandoned. But as of six days ago… it’s active again.”

“And it’s not the only one,” T’Challa added.

Sam leaned in. “So what’s the play?”

“They’re not reinstating us,” Serena said. “We’re still fugitives in the eyes of the world.”

“But,” Natasha said, a flicker of a smirk at the corner of her mouth, “that makes us perfect for infiltration.”

Steve’s jaw set. “We move. Quiet. Fast. Off-grid.”

Sam looked at Serena. “You in?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then, slowly, she nodded. “If any of those projects were half as bad as Manticore… we can’t let them fall into the wrong hands.”

A familiar voice cut into the quiet tension.

“Then you better not screw it up.”

Nick entered the room like a storm contained in a tactical jacket. His white wolf insignia glinted faintly on his collar. He looked like he’d just come from a strategy session with the Dora Milaje—which, knowing Nick, he probably had.

“You’re not on the books. No reinforcements. No backup. If this goes sideways, you’re on your own.” His gaze landed on Serena, then flicked to Steve. “But I know you’ve handled worse.”

“And you’re supporting this?” Steve asked cautiously.

Nick shrugged. “I’m not thrilled, but Wakanda’s already approved your operation. I’ve cleared it with T’Challa personally.”

T’Challa gave a slight nod. “Hunter speaks for me in this.”

Shuri added softly, “And I’ll provide remote support. You won’t be alone.”

Serena stepped aside, reaching for her comm.

“I’m calling her,” she muttered.

Nick arched a brow. “Her?”

Serena’s lips thinned. “Mom.”

Meanwhile

Felicita answered on the second ring, her face composed in the holo-display.

“Let me guess,” she said coolly. “You’re not calling to discuss the gala in Venice.”

Serena straightened slightly. “We’re mobilizing. Off-books. Wakandan-backed. Hydra resurgence. One of the sites is Project Manticore.”

The silence was brief—but loaded.

Felicita exhaled slowly. “Then you need to go.”

Serena blinked. “You’re not going to try and stop me?”

Her mother’s eyes were steel. “You’re my daughter. You’ve been hunting monsters since before you knew what they were. I don’t agree with the way you were trained. But if anyone can stop this before it becomes uncontainable—it’s you.”

Felicita’s gaze sharpened. “But you come back. Do you hear me? Both of you.”

Steve, behind Serena, nodded.

“I’ll bring her home,” he promised.

Felicita looked at him for a long beat… and then, she gave the smallest nod. “Good.”

Meanwhile

The briefing wrapped. The mission was set.

Serena stayed back with Steve once the others cleared out, her eyes still locked on the flickering file marked MANTICORE.

He stepped behind her, his hand gently touching the small of her back.

“You okay?”

She didn’t look away. “No.”

But she didn’t pull away either.

“I thought I left my father’s legacy behind. But it’s still out there. Still poisoning everything.”

Steve’s voice was low. “Then let’s burn it out.”

She turned, finally meeting his gaze.

They were still fugitives. Still haunted. Still healing.

But now?

They were at war again.

And this time—they were fighting together.

Later that Evening

The palace was quiet that night.

The kind of quiet only war could create.

The kind where everyone was bracing for the storm.

A golden breeze filtered through the open windows of Serena's private suite, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the sound of faint drumming in the hills beyond the city. Outside, the stars above Wakanda glittered like a thousand unseen watchers. Serena sat cross-legged on a floor cushion, clad in a loose gray T-shirt and leggings, her hair pulled up haphazardly, a glass of untouched red wine on the low table beside her. She was watching the candlelight flicker.

Nick entered quietly, knocking once before stepping inside, holding something wrapped in black leather and bound with an old CIA sigil.

“I found this while doing intel sanitation with Shuri and Ayo,” he said simply.

Serena looked up, immediately tense. “What is it?”

Nick sat across from her, setting the bundle on the table between them.

“A drive. One of Dad’s. Level 10 encryption. Took three days to crack it with Shuri’s help.” His jaw tightened. “It’s… everything he was working on before the Triskelion fell. Last-minute dumps from SHIELD. STRIKE logs. Personal archives.”

Serena didn’t breathe.

Nick looked her in the eye. “I haven’t opened it yet. I didn’t want to see it alone.”

She nodded slowly.

Her fingers moved with familiarity as she slid the drive into the secure Wakandan terminal embedded in the table. The display shimmered to life with a soft hum, casting the room in pale blue light.

DIRECTORY: PIERCE LEGACY / BLACK VAULT 17A
Total Files: 912
Category: Weapon R&D, Intel Profiles, Family Analysis

Serena blinked.

“Family analysis?” she repeated, voice low.

Nick exhaled slowly. “Yeah. There’s a whole category.”

She began scrolling.

Subjects:

• Felicitá de Fontaine Pierce — Codename: Belladonna

• Nicholas H. de Fontaine Pierce — Codename: White Wolf

• Serena A. de Fontaine Pierce — Codename: Viper

They exchanged a glance. Serena’s mouth went dry.

There were full psychological profiles, combat diagnostics, archived training footage, biometric logs, and even mission video overlays from when Serena was in the academy at Langley, and when Nick was stationed in Afghanistan.

Subject: FELICITA M. DE FONTAINE PIERCE

Strengths: Psychological warfare, elite handler, linguistic mastery (French, Italian, Russian, Mandarin), strategic infiltration, diplomatic immunity.

Weaknesses: Empathy buried too deep. Operates under illusion of control.

Notes: “She never loved the mission. She loved the control it gave her. She turned fear into power — until Serena was born. That changed everything. And she never forgave herself for softening.”

Subject: NICHOLAS H. DE FONTAINE PIERCE

Strengths: Exceptional tactical adaptability, elite marksmanship, enhanced spatial awareness under pressure, highly protective instincts. Natural leadership. Displays unwavering loyalty to his squad, especially Serena.

 

Weaknesses: Emotional volatility when sister or wife is endangered. Susceptibility to personal vendetta logic. Can become rogue without clear hierarchy.

Note: "Nick functions as a wolf among predators. Unchecked, he will burn the world down to save the people he loves. If control is desired—threaten Serena. It’s the only leash that works."

 

Nick swallowed hard. “Jesus Christ.”

Subject: SERENA A. DE FONTAINE PIERCE

Strengths: Psychological dissection of enemies. Precision-based combat efficiency. Deepcover memory retention. Multilingual—fluent in French, Italian, Russian, Arabic. Strong resistance to mind-control techniques.

 

Weaknesses: Emotional repression. Delayed grief cycles. Steve Rogers.

Note: “She’s better than I expected. Sharper. Smarter. But her heart is the thing I never accounted for. Her attachment to Rogers will destroy her—or free her.”

 

Nick looked over slowly. Serena was staring at the screen, unmoving.

That's when they both noticed three more files:

• BELLADONNA.mp4

• WHITEWOLF.mp4

• VIPER.mp4

And a fourth, locked with an omega-class encryption:

• ALPHA_FINAL_MISSION: FAMILY

Nick’s eyes flicked to hers. “Open yours first.”

Serena hesitated. Her thumb hovered over the file.

Then she tapped it.

-FILE PLAYING: VIPER.mp4-

The image flickered, then stabilized.

Alexander Pierce sat in his old S.H.I.E.L.D. office in the Triskellion. It was before the fall. Before the blood and betrayal. His hair was still neatly combed, and his suit sharp as ever. His eyes, however, were already hollowed by ideology.

"My daughter, Serena."

Serena stiffened.

"Codename: Viper. Recruited by the CIA at eighteen. Brilliant. Dangerous. Effective. Operates with the control of a surgeon and the instincts of a serpent. She uses venom for a reason—because she never strikes unless provoked."

He leaned forward, folding his hands.

"Her strengths are vast. Multilingual—fluent in French, Italian, Russian, and Arabic. Trained in Krav Maga, Muay Thai, ballet-based close-quarters defense. She's a tactician. An empath. That is both her greatest gift and her greatest flaw."

Serena’s lips tightened.

"She forms attachments. And those attachments compromise her."

The video cut to a surveillance shot of her in a STRIKE training room—laughing, lightly punching Steve on the shoulder after a sparring match. She was in her deep green training gear, hair unbraided, sweaty, but smiling.

And Steve?

He leaned in without hesitation.

A kiss to her temple.

Then her cheek.

"She's fallen for Rogers," Alexander said in the voiceover, as the video played on. "Predictable. He represents what she’s always wanted—control and goodness wrapped in strength. If circumstances are right, this relationship could be useful. If she opens herself up to him, she may finally let go of the guilt she carries."

Serena paused the video.

Her hand trembled slightly. But she didn’t say anything.

Nick reached over silently and tapped his own.

-FILE PLAYING: WHITE WOLF.mp4-

Alexander’s image returned.

"My son. Nicholas."

Nick straightened in his seat. His jaw clenched.

"Codename: White Wolf. Navy SEAL. Operative. Ghost. He's always been more comfortable in combat than at a dinner table. And yet, his loyalty? Impeccable. His dedication? Unquestionable."

The video cut to Nick training Wakandan warriors—clearly a more recent surveillance recording than the others. T'Challa was in the background, nodding in approval.

"He’s found another home. In Wakanda. They call him ‘Hunter.’ They call him ‘White Wolf.’ And he earned that name."

Nick swallowed hard. "I never told anyone that," he murmured. "Only the Wakandans knew."

Alexander’s voice continued.

"His weakness is obvious—Serena. He would burn the world to protect her. And that makes him vulnerable. He's married now. To the Mossad girl—Alison. Another protector. I underestimated her. I won't again."

The video cut off.

Nick stared at the blank screen for a long moment.

Then he looked at Serena.

"Play the last one."

Serena tapped BELLADONNA.mp4

-FILE PLAYING: BELLADONNA.mp4-

Alexander looked older here. Hunched slightly. Tired. This video was clearly recorded just weeks before the Triskelion fell.

"My wife."

He paused.

"My Belladonna. Felicita de Fontaine Pierce. The only woman who ever terrified me. And the only one I ever trusted."

His eyes drifted slightly to the corner of the screen, like he was watching an old memory play out.

"She was a killer before she was a mother. An asset before she was a wife. But somehow… she did it. She gave our children strength. She gave them clarity."

His voice quieted.

"I wanted to change the world. She wanted to survive it. Maybe that's where we split."

Serena’s chest ached.

Nick whispered, “He never admitted that. Not once.”

Then the screen shifted.

A final file played automatically.

The title read:

ALPHA_FINAL_MISSION: FAMILY

Alexander Pierce was alone in a darkened office.

This time, he looked directly at the camera.

“If you’re seeing this,” he said, “then I’m dead. And Hydra has lost. Or maybe it hasn’t. Maybe the world has just taken another shape.”

He leaned forward.

“This is for Felicita. Serena. Nick.”

Serena’s breath caught.

Nick stiffened beside her.

“I was not a good man. And I was not a good father. I lied. I manipulated. I hurt people. I hurt you.”

His voice faltered.

“Felicita, you were the sharpest weapon I ever saw. I never deserved your loyalty. But I always had it. Even when I didn't understand why.”

A long silence.

“Nick. You were born for the battlefield. You were a better version of me before you even turned ten. You were brave. Reckless. Furious. And I made you that way. I made you a weapon.”

Nick’s eyes were wet now, jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

“I’m sorry.”

Then Alexander looked straight into the lens.

“Serena…”

Serena’s fingers curled around her sleeve.

“You were my soul. My prodigy. And I ruined you. I saw too much of myself in you, and I tried to stamp it out. But you’re not me. You’re better. Braver. Kinder.”

His voice cracked.

“I knew what I was. And I knew someday… you’d be the one to end me.”

Her eyes filled. She couldn’t stop it now.

“And I let you.”

Alexander wiped his face with one trembling hand.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I hope you live.”

The video ended.

Silence fell.

Nick reached forward and slowly unplugged the drive. He didn’t look at her right away.

When Serena finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“He knew.”

Nick nodded. “He knew.”

They sat there in the silence, eyes stinging, old pain threatening to flood them.

But instead of letting it drown them—

Serena reached over, leaned her head against her brother’s shoulder, and closed her eyes.

Nick let his hand rest gently on hers.

And for a long, quiet moment, they just… breathed.

Together.

Family.

And somewhere in the shadows of memory, the ghost of their father finally faded.

A/N:

I got a lot of inqury on what Serena looks like when she was in her CIA days, so here's the best I can do!

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 42: Chapter 42

1 Week Later

Location: Bolivia

The facility was silent when they entered. Not abandoned — not truly — but stripped of life in the way only a black site could be. Ghosts lived here now. Ghosts in the walls, in the air, in the silent buzz of fluorescent lights that hadn’t flickered out in years.

The cold concrete corridors of the abandoned MANTICORE base echoed beneath their boots as Serena, Steve, Natasha, and Sam swept through in tight formation. Dust coated everything. Glass panels spider-webbed with age. Files half-burned and metal doors welded shut in haste.

But Serena’s pulse was sharp, quick, deliberate. Her gloved fingers hovered above the biometric scanner as they reached the inner lab.

“This was one of mine,” she whispered.

Steve gave her a glance, but didn’t speak. They all knew what that meant.

The door hissed open.

The room inside looked like something out of a nightmare. Stainless steel countertops. A row of refrigerated containment chambers. Weapons testing stations. And lined across the back wall—

—vials.

Hundreds of them.

Neon blue. Pale green. A soft, venomous gold.

Serena moved before anyone could stop her. Straight to the shelf. Her eyes scanned the labels. Familiar compounds. Familiar notes in handwriting that made her breath hitch in her throat.

“My neurotoxins,” she murmured.

Natasha stepped closer. “You sure?”

Serena nodded faintly. “Some are mine. The rest… attempts.”

Her fingers closed around a vial of the pale green toxin, the one she’d nicknamed Lachesis. It had taken her two years to perfect the formula during her early years in CIA black ops. A neurotoxin that caused total paralysis in under ninety seconds. Painless. Silent. It was created for mercy, not malice.

Except now — it had been reengineered.

Steve moved behind her. “Serena…”

“I started coating my knives with venom after Istanbul,” she said, her voice low, distant. “Back when I was still just ‘Viper’ in the field. It was a quiet kill. Clean. I didn’t want the people I fought to suffer.”

Sam frowned. “And now?”

She turned, her eyes colder than the vials. “Now these are designed for assassination. Slow deaths. Internal melting. They aren’t mine anymore. They’re twisted.”

She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until Steve gently took the vial from her.

“They tried to replicate me,” she whispered. “They turned me into a blueprint.”

He shook his head. “No. They tried to copy you. But they’ll never be you.”

Serena forced herself to move, flicking the nearest containment switch. The vials hissed, then ignited in a burst of light and heat. One by one, the toxins were destroyed, consumed by chemical fire.

By the time they stepped out of the lab, the MANTICORE facility was a skeleton. Nothing left. Nothing salvageable.

But Serena still felt it — the weight.

She didn’t speak on the flight back. Just stared out the window of the Quinjet, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes unreadable.

But Steve watched her the entire time.

The air was cool, sweet with the scent of blooming night jasmine that clung to the edge of the Bolivian hillside. The stars overhead were sharp and diamond-clear — the kind of night sky you never forgot.

Serena sat on the low stone steps outside the safehouse, her legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her hair was down — loose, golden-blonde in the moonlight, a rare sight Steve had always loved. She looked peaceful.

But he knew better.

Steve stepped outside and joined her, sitting just close enough for their arms to brush.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Serena said quietly, “Today scared me.”

Steve looked at her. “I know.”

“It’s not just that the toxins were there. It’s that… they knew me. They understood how I thought. How I designed. They studied me.”

“They didn’t understand the why,” Steve said. “They only ever saw the how.”

She nodded, slowly. “I didn’t expect it to still hurt. But it did. Seeing my work twisted like that.”

Steve turned to her fully. His voice was softer now. “You’re not that person anymore.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Sometimes I feel like I am. I see myself in the mirror and I see Viper. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being her.”

Steve reached out, gently took her hand.

“You’re Serena. You always have been. The world didn’t make you. You made yourself.”

Her lips trembled slightly, but she nodded.

Then, in the quiet, she reached beneath her blanket and pulled out something small — silver, glinting under the moonlight.

Her emerald engagement ring.

Steve watched as she turned it over between her fingers. And then, slowly, she slipped it back onto her finger.

His breath caught.

She held her hand up, palm toward him, the green gem sparkling.

“The engraving,” she whispered, and he could hear the emotion building in her voice. “You remember what it says?”

He nodded.

Mon avenir est toi.

My future is you.

Steve’s eyes burned, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Because Serena leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder as the stars shimmered above them and the future — fragile, flawed, but finally theirs — settled gently into place.

Not because it was perfect.

But because they had chosen it.

Together.

And for the first time in a long time, Serena didn’t feel haunted by the past.

She felt ready to live again.

One Month Later

Location: Latvia

The night air in Latvia cut cold and sharp through the fractured streets of Riga, mist crawling along the cobblestones like spilled ink. It was just past midnight when the Quinjet set down silently outside the shell of an old STRIKE safehouse, long abandoned — or so they'd thought.

Serena stood with her arms crossed as the hatch opened, scanning the perimeter with sharp eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a low twist, combat black gear tailored to her form, pistols strapped to her thighs, and her knives holstered with surgical precision. She was no longer hiding who she was — not Viper, not Serena Pierce. Just the fusion of both.

Steve stood beside her, shield on his back. Sam and Natasha flanked the entryway as they moved in, slipping through broken fences and silent shadows.

"Place looks like it hasn't breathed since 2014," Sam muttered.

Serena’s eyes swept the alleyway. "That’s the problem."

Inside, the hideout was surprisingly intact. Old steel doors still hummed faintly with backup power. Surveillance nodes blinked red. Someone had reactivated it all. Someone who knew what they were doing.

Natasha crouched by a half-shattered console and frowned. "This is STRIKE architecture, but it’s been gutted and retrofitted."

Sam tapped a flickering monitor. "And definitely not by amateurs. This is reverse-engineered S.H.I.E.L.D. tech."

Serena stepped closer to a far wall — her boots echoing in the cavernous silence. Her fingers brushed over a control panel partially concealed in the concrete.

Recognition hit her like a slap.

"This isn’t STRIKE," she said quietly. "Not entirely."

Steve looked over. "What is it?"

She stared at the schematic screen now flickering under her fingertips, her voice carefully neutral. "That’s not STRIKE code. That’s from a black file. One of my mother’s."

Natasha rose, her brows furrowed. "Felicita's black files are ghost-level clearance. Where would mercs even get them?"

"Not just anyone," Serena murmured. "Someone with Hydra ties, or remnants of ex-SHIELD intel scrapers. Or worse — someone who knew where to look."

Steve stepped closer. “Can you access it?”

Serena pulled off her glove, revealing the biometric tracer beneath her skin. She pressed her palm to the screen.

The system blinked.

Recognized her.

And then it spoke.

“Viper protocol recognized. Initiating terminal clearance. Welcome, Pierce.”

A second later, the room lit up — consoles flashing. A deep hum pulsed through the floor.

Serena’s brows knit. “It’s activating something—”

A sharp beep.

Then a countdown.

00:45… 00:44… 00:43…

“Shit,” she whispered. “It’s a failsafe. One of the old Hydra ghost-switches. If someone triggers this without full code access...”

“What happens?” Steve asked tightly.

“It initiates a kill-switch targeting anyone associated with the protocol.”

She moved fast, fingers dancing over the console. Steve could barely track her movements. Natasha and Sam stood tense, ready for anything.

A file popped up.

Marked: KILLSWITCH-457
Codename: VIPER

Steve froze.

Serena’s expression didn’t change — but her voice dropped to a whisper.

“They marked me for death.”

The room was silent except for the rising whine of the countdown and her keystrokes.

Steve took a step forward. “What the hell is this? Who the hell put your name on a list like that?”

Her eyes didn’t leave the screen.

“I expected this.”

The quiet way she said it made Steve’s blood boil.

He moved beside her, jaw locked. “No, don’t say that. No one expects to find their own kill order on a terminal.”

She looked at him then — calm, resigned.

“I worked for the CIA. I joined STRIKE. I turned down Hydra’s offer, and they didn’t forget. And after I killed Alexander on the Triskelion bridge, I knew someone out there would eventually want to finish what he couldn’t.”

Natasha cursed softly.

Sam looked between them. “We need to move. This whole place could blow if they tied this to an auto-destruct.”

“No,” Serena said sharply. “This isn’t about destroying the building. It’s about erasing me.”

The screen blinked again.

00:08… 00:07…

Then — silence.

Serena exhaled and pressed the final line of code.

ABORT AUTHORIZED.

The lights dimmed. The hum disappeared. The danger, for now, was gone.

But the name still blinked on the screen.

Viper.

Steve clenched his fists.

“I want names,” he said. “Anyone connected to this. Whoever thought they could come after you — I want them found.”

Serena stepped back, the tension finally visible in her shoulders.

But her voice was steady.

“You don’t have to protect me, Steve.”

His gaze met hers — hard, earnest, unwavering.

“I’m not protecting you,” he said. “I’m standing beside you. There’s a difference.”

She didn’t respond right away.

But when she nodded — it wasn’t out of surrender.

It was out of choice.

The sky above Latvia was soft with clouds, low and grey-blue like worn silk. A light breeze swept across the rooftops, carrying the scent of rain-soaked stone and winter pine.

Serena sat on the edge of the safehouse balcony, a blanket around her shoulders, hair loose and tumbling down her back. Her boots were off. Her pulse was slow. But her mind was racing.

Steve stepped out behind her, barefoot and quiet. He joined her without a word, dropping beside her with a slight groan.

“Getting old?” she asked, not looking at him.

“Battle scars,” he said. “Yours included.”

She smirked faintly.

They sat in silence for a long while. The quiet wasn’t heavy — not anymore. Just necessary.

“I keep thinking about that screen,” Steve finally said.

“The kill switch?” Serena asked.

“No. The way you said you expected it.”

She looked down at her hands.

“I did.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to expect betrayal. Or revenge. You deserve better than that.”

“I used to think that,” she said softly. “But after what I’ve done? Who I used to be? I know how many ghosts I carry.”

“You’re not your ghosts.”

“No. But they still follow me.”

Steve leaned in, brushing his fingers along her jaw. “Then let them follow. They won’t ever catch up to you. Not while I’m with you.”

Serena met his gaze — and this time, let herself believe it.

2 Weeks Later

Location: Southern Austria

The morning sun filtered in through cheap linen curtains in a nondescript roadside motel, casting faint golden stripes across the laminate floors and faded wallpaper. The place smelled like burnt coffee and dusty radiator coils — the kind of anonymity they'd started to crave.

They were ghosts now. And ghosts had to look the part.

Serena sat cross-legged on the bathroom counter, a black hoodie zipped to her throat, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. A small drugstore dye kit was open in front of her — the packaging hastily discarded, the gloves on her hands already stained with a cool ash-brown tint.

She was staring at herself in the mirror. At the faint echo of the girl she used to be.

Not blonde anymore.

Not glowing with that sunlit sharpness Steve once said reminded him of moonlight off a blade.

No, this was different.

The color was deeper — a natural, dark walnut brown. Slightly darker than her true shade, but far enough from the champagne-blonde that had become so synonymous with her that it was jarring. Her cheekbones looked sharper. Her eyes more green. Her edges, harder.

It wasn’t just camouflage.

It was armor.

“You sure about this?” Natasha’s voice drifted in from the doorway. She was holding a towel, her own hair wet and limp from the shower, cut shorter than usual, jagged near the collarbone.

Serena glanced over. "You look like you joined an indie rock band."

Natasha smirked, drying the ends. “You look like a vengeance arc.”

Serena tilted her head at her reflection. “That’s about right.”

Ten minutes later, both women stood side by side in the cracked mirror above the sink. Natasha’s hair had turned a golden flaxen shade — almost strawberry in the light. She looked...lighter, strangely. Not soft, but untethered from what she'd carried before.

And Serena — she looked like someone no one would recognize in a crowd.

That was the point.

“This’ll buy us time,” Natasha said, tying her hair back into a low knot. “Long enough to move through the border cities undetected.”

Serena nodded, expression unreadable.

Steve and Sam were waiting outside by the van, checking false plates and cycling burner phones. They’d leave before nightfall, heading north through Slovenia into Czech territory, following intel that a Hydra cell might be trafficking old Red Room neural chips.

But before they left, Serena opened the duffel bag by her feet, pulled out a battered manila folder, and began flipping through the new identities she had forged in the days prior.

Names. Birthdates. Cover stories.

“Alias time,” Natasha muttered, rubbing her towel through her hair. “I was wondering when you’d bring it up.”

“Can’t afford to leave breadcrumbs anymore,” Serena said quietly, pulling out a French ID and a corresponding Russian passport.

Natasha leaned against the doorway. “You using one of your Langley ghosts?”

Serena didn’t answer for a long moment.

Then: “Yes.”

She lifted a French identification card and looked at the name on it.

Ophelia Sarkissian.

Her old alias. One she hadn’t used since she left the CIA for STRIKE in 2013. The name she’d once worn like a velvet glove while running dark ops through Eastern Europe and Jordan. The name her father helped her design.

The first time she’d become someone else — someone untraceable.

“Ophelia Sarkissian?” Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes. “That name sounds familiar.”

Serena's expression didn’t shift. “It shouldn’t.”

Natasha didn’t push.

But she caught the flicker behind Serena’s eyes — the way they shuttered just slightly when she said the name aloud. The ghost that trailed it.

It wasn’t just a name.

It was an identity soaked in something darker.

Something Serena wasn’t ready to say out loud.

Not yet.

So Natasha nodded and tossed her towel in the hamper. “Well, Ophelia, let’s hope your forgeries are as good as your taste in aliases.”

“They’re better,” Serena said softly, sliding the ID into her wallet and sealing the folder shut.

Later That Day

Steve was driving the car. Serena sat beside him, her hand resting near the window, absentmindedly twisting the chain of her engagement ring — still glinting on her finger. The sun flickered through the trees along the roadside, the blur of villages and thick forest threading past the windows like the pages of a book they couldn’t pause to read.

Sam and Natasha sat in the back, quiet for the most part. The radio played something faint — a Balkan folk station cutting in and out of signal.

“New name suits you,” Steve said after a while, eyes still on the road.

Serena glanced at him. “It’s not new.”

He nodded once. He didn’t ask why. Didn’t press. He just reached over and gave her fingers a quiet squeeze.

“Still you,” he said.

“No,” she said quietly, after a long beat. “But it’s who I need to be for now.”

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Present Day

Location: Prague, Czech Republic

The darkness was thick, oppressive. Serena lay beside Steve in the dim light, the only sound the gentle rhythm of his breathing. She wasn't asleep, not really. Her mind raced, moving from one memory to the next — one name, one face, one regret to the next. The faint hum of the air conditioning did nothing to soothe her thoughts.

Ophelia.

The name felt foreign now. But it wasn't. She could still hear her father's voice as he'd whispered it into her ear years ago, as though he were molding her future with it. As if the name was a cloak that would shield her from the things she would have to become. The girl who had once worn it wasn't Serena Pierce. She wasn't the woman lying beside Steve Rogers, struggling with grief, healing, and trust. No, that version of herself was someone else entirely.

Ophelia Sarkissian.

The name still haunted her.

Flashback: 8 Years Ago (2009)

Serena's Age: 20 Years Old

Location: Pierce Estate, Alexandria, Virgina

Serena sat across from her father in his office. The windows were shut, the heavy blinds drawn against the outside light. The only sounds were the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the desk and the low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Alexander Pierce, calm and collected as ever, was studying her like a hawk.

"You've done well so far," he said, not looking up from the stack of files in front of him. "But you're ready for something bigger. Something that needs a different touch."

Serena stiffened, glancing at the file on the desk. She recognized it, but didn't want to acknowledge it. It was for an operation in Eastern Europe — an infiltration mission that would require something more than just training and instincts. It would require a different kind of agent. Someone who could blend in. Someone who could manipulate without suspicion.

"You'll need an alias," her father continued, his voice steady. "Something that blends into the world you'll need to operate in. Something memorable. Something no one can trace back to you."

"I've already got a few names from my last operation," Serena replied, her voice careful. She didn't want to show any weakness — not now, not with him.

Alexander looked up from the file and smiled, that dangerous, knowing smile of his. "This is different. You'll need a new identity. One that reflects who you're becoming."

He slid a small folder across the desk toward her. Serena opened it, and inside was the name:

Ophelia Sarkissian.

"Ophelia..." Serena whispered, the word hanging in the air like a curse. It felt cold on her tongue. She didn't like the way it sounded. It didn't feel like her. Not at all.

Her father leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Ophelia. It's Greek, a name tied to tragedy, to depth. It reflects both strength and fragility. It will make people remember you, but they won't know you. The Sarkissian name will help — a little Middle Eastern mystery, a little aristocracy. You'll be the perfect blend of danger and intrigue."

Serena stared at the name, and the weight of it settled in her chest. Ophelia. It wasn't just an alias. It was a weapon, a construct. A name designed to keep her hidden, to erase any trace of who she had been. And she would wear it. She would become it.

But deep down, she knew what it meant. Ophelia was not just the agent who would do the dirty work. She would be a puppet. She would manipulate, seduce, and destroy, all under the guise of being someone else.

"Your first assignment is already lined up," Alexander continued. "You'll be operating in Europe — getting close to high-profile targets, using whatever means necessary to extract the intel we need. Your new persona will be Ophelia Sarkissian. A socialite. A diplomat. Whatever you need to be."

Serena nodded, though inside, she felt the stirrings of something she hadn't felt in years: doubt. But it was too late to question it. She'd come too far. She was already trapped in the web her father had woven.

Flashback: 5 Years Ago (2012)

Location: Bucharest 

Serena sat on the edge of a bed in a hotel room somewhere in Bucharest. Her hair was dark, her makeup flawless. Ophelia was all smiles, confidence, and charm. But beneath it all, there was a gnawing emptiness that only she could feel.

She was there to gather intel on a powerful arms dealer who had ties to several rogue governments. The mission had gone smoothly, but how it had gone smoothly was something she didn't want to think about. She had used sexpionage — the kind of manipulation that she had learned to excel at. It was her most effective tool. She could seduce, charm, and break anyone with the right touch.

She closed her eyes, pushing away the memories of the men, the lies, the sweet words she whispered that meant nothing. But they got her what she needed. It always did.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She stood up, smoothing her skirt, and opened it. It was Val. The thing about Val, aside from being the drunk Aunt who would roast everyone who she crossed paths with, was that Val never asked questions. She knew what had to be done.

"You're getting too good at this," Val said, her tone flat. "Next time, don't enjoy it so much."

Serena didn't answer. She just nodded, the numbness creeping over her again. It was the only way she could survive. The only way she could keep going.

Flashback: 4 Years Ago (2013)

Location: Washington, D.C.

Serena sat in Dr. Andrew Garner's office, her hands clenched in her lap. He had been the one constant in her life since she'd joined STRIKE, the one person she'd allowed herself to trust.

But today was different.

"I don't know who I am anymore," Serena said, her voice shaky. "Ophelia was a part of me. She still is. But I did things... terrible things. Things I can't erase."

Dr. Garner leaned forward, watching her carefully. "What kinds of things?"

Serena's eyes filled with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She had already cried enough. "I used sex to get information. I manipulated men, played with their emotions. I led them on, pretending to be someone I wasn't. I destroyed lives without even thinking about it."

Garner waited.

"I...used people," she admitted. "I let them touch me. I let them believe they owned me. I flirted, seduced, danced. I got inside their heads, inside their homes. And I kept my face soft when they thought I was theirs."

"You did what you were trained to do."

"I did what Val told me to do."

That name cracked the air like a whip.

"Val," she continued. "She gave the orders. The perfume. The clothing. The attitude. She called it 'weaponized femininity.' She said that as a Pierce, my blood was already half-lethal. All I had to do was use the rest of me."

Garner frowned.

"And your mother?"

Serena’s voice hardened. "She never knew."

She stood and began to pace. "I once slept in the same bed as a Belarusian minister who ran child labor smuggling through Bucharest. I drugged his drink. Slipped out with the hard drive in his safe. He never knew what hit him. But I still smell his cologne sometimes when I sleep."

A long pause.

"I poisoned a man in Madrid. Coated the rim of his wine glass with toxin. Smiled while he died."

"Why does that one haunt you more?" Garner asked.

"Because he was kind. Because he offered me an umbrella when it rained."

Garner was silent for a moment, then asked softly, "Do you think that was your choice?"

"I didn't have a choice," she answered quickly. "That's what I was trained to do. That's what I became. I wasn't just an agent. I was a weapon."

She paused, eyes unfocused as memories flooded back — the faces of men she had used, and the cold indifference she had learned to adopt. She had lost herself in it. She had become Ophelia. And Ophelia had no room for guilt. She only had room for survival. 

She turned sharply, biting the inside of her cheek.

"I don't know where Ophelia ends and I begin sometimes."

"Maybe you don’t need to," Garner said gently. "Maybe you integrate. Not forget. Not erase. But accept."

Serena stared at the floor.

"You were surviving a system built to use you. You adapted. That’s not weakness, Serena. That’s power." 

Present Day

Location: Prague, Czech Republic

Time: 2:48 am

Serena woke up slowly, the warmth of Steve beside her a stark contrast to the cold weight of the past. She didn't want to think about Ophelia. She didn't want to think about the things she had done or the life she had lived before him. She just wanted to be here. With him. Now.

But the name still haunted her. And when she lay next to him, the ghosts of her past lingered, lurking in the back of her mind.

She hadn't told him what she had done as Ophelia. Not because she didn't trust him — but because she couldn't. He would never understand. He would never know the full extent of what she had sacrificed, what she had become in her father's eyes. She couldn't burden him with it.

So she kept it buried. But some nights, like tonight, the ghosts whispered louder than the peace of his steady breathing.

Steve stirred beside her, shifting closer. He pulled her into his chest, a silent question in his movements. She didn't answer him right away. Instead, she let her fingers trace the edge of his shirt.

"Ser," he murmured softly, his voice thick with sleep. "You okay?"

She nodded, her face hidden in his chest. "I'm fine."

But inside, her heart twisted. She wasn't fine. Not yet. But maybe, with him, she could be.

For now, that was enough.

7:15 AM

Morning light filtered through the curtains of the small safehouse, casting faintly golden streaks across the modest bedroom. Serena sat silently by the open window, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Her newly-dyed dark hair was pulled loosely into a low ponytail, catching a few early rays of sun.

Steve awoke slowly, stretching before he registered her quiet presence.

"Morning," he murmured softly, noticing her posture immediately—tense, distant, her shoulders drawn in. "You okay?"

She glanced back at him, lips curving in a gentle smile. "Yeah," she lied effortlessly. "Just... couldn't sleep."

He knew better than to accept that at face value.

Steve rose, pulling on a white T-shirt and crossing the room in just a few strides. He leaned against the window beside her, his blue eyes studying her carefully. Serena's guarded expression told him she was still dwelling somewhere deep in the past.

"What kept you up?" he pressed gently, brushing his fingers lightly against her arm. "Ser?"

Her eyes flickered away from him. "Nothing. Just old ghosts."

Ophelia, he thought, remembering the name she'd whispered the night before in restless sleep. He hadn't asked then. It wasn't the time. But now...

"Ophelia Sarkissian," Steve said softly. "That's what's bothering you, isn't it?"

Serena froze, turning slowly toward him, eyes wide. "How do you—"

"You were talking in your sleep," he explained gently, trying not to alarm her. "You sounded... upset."

She let out a heavy breath, fingers tightening around the coffee mug.

"It was my cover name in the CIA," she admitted after a long pause. "My father came up with it. I never really told anyone about her—about what I did as her."

Steve watched the conflicted emotion behind her eyes. "Maybe you should. It might help."

She shook her head. "I don't know, Steve."

"Serena," he murmured softly, stepping closer. "You carry too much of your past alone. Trust me—I know what that's like. You can't keep burying it. Eventually, it catches up to you."

She stared at him silently for a long moment. Finally, she relented, quietly saying, "Okay."

Slowly, cautiously, she began to speak.

Thirty Minutes Later

When Serena finished, Steve was quiet, his jaw tense.

She'd told him everything—the deep-cover infiltration missions, the covert operations she'd conducted under Alexander and Val's orders. The way her father molded and shaped her into someone she didn’t recognize, a ghost hiding behind a beautiful lie.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Steve asked gently, concern etched on his face.

Serena sighed softly, glancing down at the empty mug. "I guess... I wanted you to see me as Serena. Not Ophelia. Not Alexander's protégé. Just...me."

Steve reached out, gently grasping her hand in his. "I've always seen you. From the moment we met. Your past doesn’t change who you are to me."

"I know," she murmured. "But there’s so much about me—about what I've done—that’s buried deep. My father... he got inside my head, Steve. I still hear him sometimes. I hear Val. They still haunt me."

Steve carefully pulled her into his embrace, feeling her body relax ever so slightly against his chest. "I get it. More than you realize. But you're stronger than your past, Serena. You’re more than what Alexander made you into."

She closed her eyes, quietly whispering against his shoulder, "Sometimes, I wonder if that's true."

Steve tightened his arms around her. "Trust me—it is."

Later that Morning

Downstairs, the team regrouped in the living room. Natasha—now sporting shorter blonde hair—sat cross-legged on the worn sofa, meticulously going over surveillance photos spread across the coffee table.

Sam leaned against the doorway, sipping coffee. His eyes flickered up when Serena and Steve entered, sensing immediately that something weighed heavily on Serena.

"Morning, you two," Natasha remarked lightly, eyes scanning Serena carefully. She was too perceptive to miss anything. "Everything okay?"

Serena nodded, masking herself quickly. "Fine."

Steve caught Natasha’s brief, skeptical glance, but neither said anything.

Sam cleared his throat. "Alright. We've got surveillance set up for tonight. Our target's set to move around 10 PM."

Serena exhaled softly, her professional demeanor slipping easily back into place. "Do we have an extraction plan?"

Natasha nodded, gesturing to the maps in front of her. "We do. Old S.H.I.E.L.D. routes. Shouldn't raise any flags."

"Good," Serena murmured, her eyes drifting back to the window.

She knew this operation would require slipping back into some of her older, darker skills—ones she'd worked so hard to leave behind.

She was going to have to channel Ophelia again.

Later that Evening

Steve stood at the edge of the rooftop, keeping watch over their target building as Serena carefully calibrated a surveillance drone beside him. The wind caught her dark hair, strands brushing across her cheek.

She was focused, precise. But he saw her differently now—not just as Serena Pierce or Viper, but as someone who’d survived far more pain and manipulation than he'd ever realized.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

She paused briefly, biting her lower lip. "I'm fine."

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You’re doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Hiding," Steve said softly. "Pulling back into yourself."

Serena sighed softly. "It's instinct, Steve. I spent years burying Ophelia. Pretending those things didn't happen."

"You're not alone," Steve murmured. "You don't have to carry her on your own. You can share the weight. With me."

She looked up, searching his face. "I don't want to drag you into this darkness. You've carried enough."

He gently cupped her cheek, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Serena, we're partners. That means we carry each other. Good and bad."

She finally exhaled softly, leaning into his hand. "I'm not used to that."

"Then we'll learn together," he said softly, reassuringly.

Later that night, Serena and Natasha worked silently side by side. The mission went flawlessly: The mercenary cell dismantled, surveillance tech destroyed.

But as Serena carefully destroyed the final drive—one containing her mother's old SHIELD schematics—her fingers trembled slightly.

Natasha silently laid a gentle hand over Serena's shaking fingers. "He knows now, doesn't he? Steve?"

Serena paused, glancing sideways. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And he hasn't run," Serena whispered, almost surprised. "He... stayed."

Natasha offered a small, knowing smile. "That's what Steve does, Serena. He's stubborn that way."

When they returned to the safehouse, Sam gave Serena a quiet, supportive nod as Natasha left to secure the perimeter. Steve found Serena outside on the back porch, looking up at the stars.

Without a word, he stepped close behind her, gently slipping his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady.

"I’m still here," he said softly, quietly reminding her.

She nodded slightly, swallowing hard. "I keep expecting you to realize it’s too much."

"Never," Steve whispered. "I’ve already lost you once. I won't lose you again."

She finally turned, lifting her face toward his. "I don't want to outrun who I am anymore. But I need you to understand it might get darker before it gets lighter."

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Then we'll face it together."

She let out a soft breath of relief, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

The ghosts were still there. Her father. Ophelia Sarkissian. The person Serena once was. The secrets, lies, and burdens she carried.

But for the first time, Serena felt like she might be able to lay them to rest—not alone, but with Steve by her side.

Slowly, she was starting to believe in something that once seemed impossible:

She could finally outrun her father's shadow.

Because now, at last, she was no longer running alone.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Flashback: 2007 (11 Years Ago)

Location:  'The Farm' , Williamsburg, Virginia

The air inside the subterranean training compound was sharp with the scent of gunpowder and cold concrete.

Serena crouched low behind the plywood barricade, sweat dripping down the side of her face as she reloaded her Glock with quick, practiced fingers. Her breath was even. Steady. Not just from fitness, but discipline.

Across the combat course, a timer ticked silently. The challenge was simple: move through the structure, eliminate ten marked hostiles, and extract the drive without tripping a single sensor or missing a single shot.

She had thirty seconds left.

Her dark hair was braided tight against her scalp, and her black fatigues were soaked through the back. But she wasn’t tired. She was alive in a way few eighteen-year-olds ever were—sharp, focused, coiled like a knife.

She moved.

Three steps to the next corner. One breath. Pop-pop. Two simulated enemies down, rubber rounds lodged in the center of both plastic torsos.

The final stretch was a long, dark corridor with a single trip-wire sensor just waist-high. Serena didn’t hesitate. She dropped into a slide, fired upward as she passed beneath, and caught the last two targets in one fluid motion.

The buzzer sounded. Course complete.

From the observation deck above, Val leaned forward, sunglasses perched on her head, a predatory smirk on her lips.

“Well,” she drawled, “someone finally beat Maddox’s time. I owe Everett twenty bucks.”

Beside her, Everett, in a crisply pressed suit with his tie slightly loosened, let out a low whistle. “Jesus. She cleared that in two minutes and seventeen seconds.”

“She’s eighteen,” Val said, biting off each syllable like it was a personal victory. “And she’s running Level 4 simulation drills with Tier One numbers.”

Everett crossed his arms. “I thought your whole theory was that she’d wash out by Phase Three?”

Val arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I wanted her to. Thought she was too sharp. Too good. Thought she’d try to impress Mommy and end up with a bullet in her foot.”

Everett glanced down at the training floor, where Serena was casually holstering her weapon and accepting a towel from a nearby handler. She didn’t smile. She rarely did during evaluation weeks.

“But?” Everett asked.

Val exhaled slowly, almost like she didn’t want to admit it.

“But she’s better than I expected. Better than most of the kids we’ve recruited in five years.”

“Even the Paris asset?” Everett asked.

Val rolled her eyes. “The Paris asset wet his pants during a chemical disarm demo. Serena cracked an entire Russian cipher in under four minutes while drinking diet orange soda.”

Everett chuckled. “So… we tell Felicita?”

Val let the silence settle.

Then she straightened, grabbed her clipboard, and nodded.

“Yeah. We tell her.”

Later That Evening

CIA Deputy Director’s Office – Langley HQ

Felicita stood with her back to the large window, the D.C. skyline blurred by a storm rolling in. Her long-sleeved white blouse was pristine, her black slacks crisp. She looked like power incarnate — poised, elegant, lethal.

Across from her, Val and Everett stood near the desk, a confidential dossier open between them. Serena’s file. Dozens of pages deep.

“She’s tracking above standard in every category,” Everett explained, tapping the stats. “Marksmanship, languages, encryption, urban survival, psychological profiling. She’s already conversational in Russian and Arabic. And her field instinct is off the charts.”

Felicita didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze was distant. Sharp.

Val stepped forward. “She’s dangerous, Fel. In the right ways. Calculated. Disciplined. Controlled. She has your instincts and his ruthlessness.”

Felicita turned slowly, her eyes like steel. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

Val smirked. “It wasn’t not one, either.”

“She’s eighteen,” Felicita said softly. “Barely out of high school. And she’s already being trained to kill.”

“No one’s forcing her,” Everett said, not unkindly. “She volunteered for this track. She could’ve gone analyst. Could’ve followed your path. But she didn’t.”

Felicita exhaled, walking toward the desk.

“She’s already given up too much.”

Val softened—just barely. “She’s not like the others. She’s not fragile. And she’s not you. She wants this. She’s already taken the name.”

Felicita’s eyes narrowed. “What name?”

Val glanced at Everett, then said quietly, “She’s started using her cover identity. Ophelia Sarkissian.”

The name hit like a slap.

Felicita turned away, her spine rigid.

“She’s not ready for that.”

“She thinks she is,” Val replied.

“She thinks a lot of things. That doesn’t make them true.”

Everett closed the file slowly. “Look, Fel... we’re not saying push her into the field tomorrow. We’re just saying: watch her. You need to see what she’s becoming.”

Felicita stared out the window again, her expression unreadable.

“I see it,” she murmured.

Then, quieter: “I’m just not sure I like it.”

Val didn’t argue.

Neither did Everett.

Because in that room, surrounded by secrets and silence, they all understood the truth:

Serena Pierce wasn’t becoming an agent.

She was becoming a weapon.

And they had just handed her the name that would define her darkest years.

Flashback: 2012 (6 Years Ago)

Location: Bagdhad, Iraq

It was called Operation: PEREGRINE.

A deep cover infiltration into a local terrorist organization by the CIA Black Cell Team 6...Serena's team.

It was supposed to be simple.

Until it wasn't.

The heat was stifling, even at night.

Serena crouched low behind a crumbling wall, sweat dripping down her neck and soaking the back of her tactical shirt. Her earpiece crackled with static as dust kicked up around her boots. The small CIA strike team she was embedded with had lost comms fifteen minutes ago. The mission had gone to hell fast.

They were supposed to be ghosts — slip in, extract intel from a rogue terror cell using SHIELD data caches, and vanish before the group even knew they’d been touched.

But someone had tipped the cell off. And now, the city was on fire.

"Team is splintered," Serena muttered into her mic. "Morales is dead. Erikson and Shaw are pinned three blocks north. Pierce and Mendez — moving south with the asset. Repeat, moving south."

Her partner, Elena Mendez, crouched beside her, blood running down the side of her arm. “We’re not making it out unless we steal a ride.”

“There’s an alley two clicks east,” Serena said, already leading the way. “We’ll cut through the market.”

They ran, weaving through the alleys and overturned crates, gunfire echoing behind them. Serena's brain was running cold, clinical. She wasn’t Ophelia here. She wasn’t the seductress or the diplomat. She was the blade.

A black SUV waited at the alley’s mouth — their extraction. Erikson was already slumped over the wheel, eyes open but lifeless.

Serena swore under her breath and jumped in, dragging Mendez behind her into the back seat. “Drive, drive, drive!”

Mendez took the wheel.

They sped down the crumbling side streets of Baghdad, heading toward the southern checkpoint. Serena’s eyes flicked to the mirror. No tails.

Then—

CRACK.

The windshield shattered.

The tires exploded.

Mendez lost control.

The car flipped.

Metal screamed.

Glass burst.

Then—

Stillness.

Smoke.

Serena groaned, pinned sideways against the crumpled door frame, blood in her mouth. She turned her head with effort.

“Mendez?” she rasped.

Her partner was half-conscious. Breathing.

Serena reached for her. Her side screamed. Something inside her was broken.

Then—

Movement outside.

A shadow. Smooth. Fluid. Inhuman.

She knew that silhouette.

A man walked through the smoke, calm as death, his metal arm gleaming under the flickering headlights.

The Winter Soldier.

Serena grabbed her sidearm with trembling fingers. “Go,” she whispered to Mendez, shoving her toward the passenger door. “Run.”

But Mendez wouldn’t leave.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got—”

CRACK.

Serena’s breath stopped.

The bullet tore through her left shoulder, slicing through muscle and bone before exiting cleanly into Mendez’s chest.

A Soviet-forged round. No rifling.

Precision. Cold. Cruel.

Serena collapsed against the wreckage, her vision swimming. Her hand stretched toward her partner as she gurgled her last breath beside her.

Gone.

Everyone was gone.

The Soldier didn’t speak.

He just turned and disappeared into the smoke.

Two Weeks Later

Location: Monte-Carlo, Monaco

The sun in Monaco was bright, almost offensively so.

Serena sat in the shaded VIP booth above the racetrack, oversized sunglasses shielding her black eye and the deep healing gash just below her hairline. A loose white blouse hung over her frame, the sling on her arm barely concealed beneath the designer fabric. Her lips were painted red, her posture flawless, and her expression unreadable.

To anyone watching — she was just another socialite recovering from a jet-ski accident or a clumsy dance floor collision. But the pain beneath her ribs told the real story.

Nick leaned over from beside her, iced espresso in hand. “You good?”

Serena didn’t look at him. “Not really.”

Alison stood behind them, arms crossed, watching the crowd. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“She needs to be anywhere but D.C.,” Nick murmured. “Langley’s crawling. Her file’s on half the directorate’s desk after Baghdad.”

“I lost my entire team, Nick.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

From down below, the roar of an engine ripped through the air. Serena flinched. Nick noticed.

Alison did too.

A moment later, Lewis appeared on the jumbotron, waving to the crowd in a McLaren fire suit.

Serena exhaled softly and turned away from the railing just as a tall, tan figure approached from the VIP lounge.

Nico Rosberg.

Smiling. Oblivious.

He greeted her with a gentle kiss to the cheek and a murmured, “Schatz, I’ve missed you.”

She didn’t respond. Not really.

Just a soft, practiced smile. “I’m here now.”

Nico kissed her again, this time a bit more deeply, unaware of how tightly her hands clenched inside the sleeves of her blouse to keep from trembling.

She was here. She was in Monaco. She was alive.

But Elena wasn’t.

The bullet still haunted her — the weight of her own survival a crushing guilt.

A champagne flute was pressed into her hand. Laughter echoed from the box behind her. Flashbulbs burst.

Ophelia smiled.

But inside, Serena bled.

Flashback: 2014 (4 Years Ago)

Location: Arlington National Cemetery

The sky was a flat gray — not raining, not clear. Just still. Like the world was holding its breath and had no idea why.

Only five people stood at the grave of Alexander Pierce.

The headstone was nondescript by design. No title. No flag. Just a name. A date. The man had nearly brought the world to its knees through Hydra’s long game, embedded within S.H.I.E.L.D. from the beginning. And now, the Earth didn’t mourn him. It barely acknowledged him at all.

Felicita stood like a statue, dressed in black, her veil shielding her expression. Her gloved hands were folded tightly in front of her, lips pressed together in a line that could have been fury or grief. No one could tell.

Nick and Alison flanked her, both in solemn silence, both wearing their losses in different ways.

Steve stood slightly behind them, present only for Serena. Not Alexander.

And Serena?

She stood still. Eyes fixed on the casket. Motionless.

She did not cry.

She did not scream.

She did not curse his name or fall to her knees or claw the earth like some daughters might have.

She just stood there. Perfect posture. Neutral expression. Arms at her sides.

As if someone had turned the dial on her emotions to mute.

Steve watched her with quiet concern.

Not even when the casket was lowered did she blink. Not when Felicita whispered a prayer in Italian. Not when Nick gently rested a hand on her shoulder. Not even when the final bit of soil was placed over the grave, and the world officially closed the chapter on Alexander Pierce.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t move.

She was sedated — not chemically, but spiritually. She was a hollow drum wrapped in black silk.

Steve didn’t reach for her.

He didn’t know how.

Two Months Later: The Day After the Monaco Grand Prix

Location: Côte d’Azur, Monaco

The yacht rocked lazily against the waves, sun glittering off the sea like someone had scattered diamonds across the surface. The air smelled like salt, citrus, and sunscreen. Laughter echoed from the lower deck where Nick, Alison, Sam, and Lewis were gathered around a platter of grilled seafood and ice-cold beer.

Nick was arguing with Lewis about tire strategy. Alison had hijacked Sam’s sunglasses. Felicita sat beneath a wide umbrella reading a book in French, her wide-brimmed hat shielding her from the world.

But on the top deck, far removed from the noise, Serena and Steve lay side by side on two lounge chairs — her in a dark green bikini, oversized black sunglasses hiding her eyes; him in dark swim trunks and a cotton button-down, unbuttoned and fluttering in the breeze.

Between them, a small speaker played “Georgia on My Mind” by Ray Charles. The melody was slow, bluesy, nostalgic. The kind of song that made the past feel like it was standing just over your shoulder.

Steve turned his head slightly, looking at her.

She hadn’t said much all morning. Not since breakfast. She’d smiled, sure. Laughed even — once, when Nick accidentally dropped a shrimp into the ocean. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Not really.

She was there, but distant.

Just like at the funeral.

“Serena,” he said softly.

Her head tilted slightly toward him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” she said, voice cool, not unkind.

“You haven’t talked about it,” Steve continued gently. “The funeral. Or your father. Or… any of it.”

She exhaled, slow and even, like someone trying not to shatter glass inside their chest.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You killed him.”

“I did.”

“For the right reasons.”

“I know.”

“But you haven’t let yourself feel it.”

Serena was quiet for a long moment. The wind tugged at her ponytail, the sun glinting off the faint scar on her shoulder.

Finally, she said, “What would you like me to say, Steve? That I regret it? That I wish I could take it back? That I’m haunted by it?”

She sat up slowly, drawing one knee to her chest. “I’m not. I’m not haunted by what I did to him. I’m haunted by what he did to me. What he made me into.”

She looked out over the water.

“I wasn’t mourning him. I was mourning who I could’ve been if he hadn’t raised me like a weapon.”

Steve sat up too, leaning forward slightly.

“You were strong enough to stop him,” he said gently. “That’s who you are now.”

She looked at him then — really looked. The sunglasses came off. Her eyes were glassy, but dry.

“I keep wondering if there’s any part of me left that wasn’t forged in his hands,” she whispered. “Anything that’s just… mine.”

Steve reached over, brushing his fingers against hers.

“This,” he said quietly. “This moment. Right here. That’s yours.”

They sat there as the song faded into silence.

Below deck, Lewis laughed so hard he nearly dropped his beer. Nick launched into an impression of Tony. Sam mockingly applauded. Felicita didn’t look up from her book, but a faint smile tugged at her mouth.

Serena looked down at their intertwined fingers.

And for the first time since that grave had closed, she didn’t feel sedated.

She felt awake.

Wounded.

But breathing.

Alive.

Flashback: 2012 (2 Years Ago)

Location: Avengers Compound – Upstate New York

The overhead lights in Serena’s office buzzed faintly — too bright, too sterile. A stack of diplomatic cables sat untouched at the edge of her desk, while her secure tablet pulsed silently with five unread messages flagged “Urgent” by Langley. Her laptop was open to a draft of the speech she was supposed to deliver to the Oversight Committee on Monday.

Her left hand rested near a coffee cup she hadn’t sipped from in an hour. Her right clenched a pen that had long stopped moving.

She felt hollow.

Empty but racing. Like the walls were closing in — not just on her, but on all of them.

The Accords were coming.

The world was turning on them.

And she was in the middle of it — CIA on one side, the Avengers on the other, and Steve stuck between duty and disobedience. Her wedding folder sat unopened behind her desk lamp, collecting a fine layer of emotional dust.

She rubbed her temples, blinking hard to stave off the sting behind her eyes.

She didn’t cry anymore.

She crashed out.

That’s when the door opened without a knock — only one person did that.

Maria.

She stepped inside like she owned the room — in all black athleisure, hair pulled into a practical ponytail, with her old SHIELD-standard black long-sleeve rolled up to her forearms.

“I’ve got fifteen minutes before Fury asks me to dig into the UN’s encrypted satellite logs,” Maria said flatly. “You look like you’re about to set this place on fire.”

“I’m considering it,” Serena said, eyes still distant.

Maria dropped her tablet on the couch and moved to the console on the far wall. “Good. Because if we’re going down, we’re taking at least one speaker system with us.”

“What are you—”

But Serena stopped.

She heard the opening notes.

A bright, unmistakable early 2000s piano riff.

Serena’s lips twitched. “Oh my God.”

Maria turned, already smirking. “Time to crash out.”

“Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield kicked into full volume.

Serena stood slowly — something between a laugh and a sob escaping her — as Maria grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the center of the room.

And just like that, two elite field operatives, both credentialed at the highest global clearance levels, both emotionally fractured in different ways — started singing at the top of their lungs and dancing like no one was watching.

“ I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned… ”

Maria spun her like a lazy waltz. Serena kicked off her heels and twirled barefoot, letting the tension bleed out of her limbs for the first time in weeks. Her hair came loose. Her blouse untucked. She didn’t care.

They belted the chorus like it was war cry and therapy in one.

“Feel the rain on your skin…”

Neither of them heard the footsteps in the hall.

But outside, Natasha stopped dead in her tracks.

Walking beside her was Clint, in for a visit after a long stretch off-grid. Both of them blinked in confusion.

Nat tilted her head toward the slightly open door of Serena’s office. “Are they—”

Clint squinted. “Is that Natasha Bedingfield?”

They stepped closer and peered in just in time to see Maria dip Serena — badly — and almost drop her. Both were laughing now. Serena’s hair fell across her face, and Maria clutched her side from how hard she was laughing.

“What the actual fuck?” Natasha asked.

Maria and Serena both froze mid-motion.

Slowly, they turned toward the doorway, flushed and panting.

Without missing a beat, they both blurted in perfect sync:

“Don’t tell Fury.”

Clint blinked. “I feel like I just saw the two of you do mushrooms together.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Correction — I think I just saw two of the deadliest women alive reenact a 2006 rom-com.”

Serena, catching her breath, pointed a lazy finger at them. “Close the door or join the chaos.”

Maria smirked, brushing her ponytail over her shoulder. “She's crashing out, this is her therapy.”

Natasha stepped inside. “This song again? You played this before Sitwell’s extraction. Didn’t we almost die like twelve minutes later?”

Serena grinned. “Exactly. Good luck charm.”

Clint crossed his arms. “God help the UN if they hear about this.”

Maria tossed him a wink. “The UN can’t handle this kind of diplomacy.”

Steve walked by ten minutes later, coffee in hand, and paused just long enough to hear the final notes of the song fade out and the sound of Serena’s laughter rising above it all.

For a moment, despite the storm brewing around them, everything felt human again.

And Serena?

For the first time in weeks — she remembered how to breathe.

2 Weeks Later

Location: Ralph Lauren Private Atelier, Manhattan

The showroom smelled faintly of white roses, old wood, and soft linen. The lights were golden and low — not harsh, not theatrical. Just enough to warm the lace without bleaching it, to shimmer off silk without making it feel sterile.

A string quartet version of Clair de Lune drifted softly from hidden speakers.

Serena stood on the raised platform, poised and still in the center of a full-length mirror triptych. The dress was everything she had asked for — no sparkle, no glitz. Just architecture and intention. A custom Ralph Lauren Atelier creation.

Old money elegance in every stitch.

The gown was ivory — a soft, rich white with warm undertones. The silhouette was sleek, hugging her waist before flowing into a minimalist train that pooled like liquid grace behind her. The sleeves were long and tailored, slightly sheer with fine French lace climbing from wrist to shoulder like vines. The neckline modest — a soft boat shape — but the back?

Gone.

All the way down to the small of her spine, the silk split cleanly, leaving her skin bare save for a line of delicate satin-covered buttons that began just above the curve of her hips. The effect was quiet power. Feminine. Assertive. Not for attention. For herself.

The cathedral-length veil was draped gently over her head, trailing behind her like a vow. It was made of the same French tulle and lace, stitched by hand in Lyon, the pattern echoing her sleeves.

She didn’t fidget.

She didn’t smile.

She just looked at herself.

Like she wasn’t sure the reflection was really hers.

Behind her, the peanut gallery was assembled on a vintage sofa and a spread of velvet armchairs, half champagne, half chaos.

Val sipped from a coupe glass, legs crossed, sunglasses still on indoors. “You look like the wife of a man who owns a vineyard, a Senate seat, and the floor plan of the Louvre. Ten out of ten.”

Felicita said nothing for a long time — and then quietly stood, walked forward, and adjusted the veil with a precision only a former spy mother could possess. Her hands lingered for a moment on Serena’s shoulders. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “But you wear it like armor.”

Serena met her mother’s eyes in the mirror. “Maybe I need it to be.”

Nick, seated beside Alison, had his phone propped up with Lewis’ face shining from the screen, yelling, “Move your big ass head, Nick! I can’t see the veil!”

“I am the veil,” Nick shot back, grinning.

Alison leaned toward the phone. “Lew, we’re at the emotional portion of the program. Pipe down.”

Lewis squinted through the phone. “Holy shit. She looks like she’s about to say yes to Steve and then take over a country.”

Nick beamed. “She is.”

Maria let out a low whistle, twirling a toothpick between her fingers. “I’ve seen Serena with a sniper rifle and blood in her hair and I was still less intimidated than I am right now.”

From the corner, Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Maria smirked. “Oh no. I’m wildly attracted and vaguely terrified.”

Serena finally let a smile pull at the corner of her mouth.

Val crossed her arms. “Alright, show her the reception dress.”

The tailor gently helped Serena off the platform and into a separate fitting room, where the second dress waited — sleeker, bolder, more dangerous.

This one was pure silk, ice-white, cut on the bias so it slinked like poured water. High neckline, no sleeves, and a backless drop that skimmed almost all the way down to her tailbone. There were no embellishments. No sparkle. Just a whisper of movement and light against skin.

When she stepped out, Maria choked on her champagne.

“Okay,” said Natasha flatly. “If Steve doesn’t drop dead on the spot, we revoke his super soldier serum.”

Alison clapped slowly. “That’s not a reception dress. That’s a power play.”

Nick dramatically covered Lewis’ eyes with his hand. “You’re not old enough for this.”

Lewis snorted. “Shut up, she looks like a Bond villain’s wife and I’m obsessed.”

Felicita stood once again, moving closer. This time, she didn’t fix anything. She just looked.

“Your father would’ve been speechless,” she said quietly.

Val smirked. “Only because he would’ve known he had zero say in anything.”

Serena turned slightly in the mirror.

She didn’t feel like the broken version of herself from Sokovia press briefings or UN oversight hearings. She didn’t feel like the girl with a bullet scar under her ribcage or the alias with no last name.

She felt…

Still.

Whole, for a breath.

And when she turned, slipping back into the dressing room to change, she whispered, “This is the one.”

“Which one?” Val called after her. “The ceremony or the reception?”

Serena’s voice came back lightly, with steel at its core:

“Both.”

Present Day: 2018

Location: Safehouse — Outside Oslo, Norway

The room smelled like cedar and cool air. A fire crackled low in the hearth. Rain traced lazy patterns down the wide glass windows behind her.

Serena sat cross-legged in a deep leather chair, wrapped in one of Steve’s old hoodies — navy blue, soft with age, a small SHIELD tear at the collar. Her hair, dyed jet black, was twisted up into a loose knot, a few strands falling down against her cheek.

The lighting was dim. A half-filled mug of coffee sat forgotten on the windowsill.

Her phone was in her hands.

She wasn’t texting. She wasn’t checking intel drops or secure servers.

She was staring at a picture.

From her final wedding dress fitting.

She was in the reception gown — the silk one, high-necked, backless, her spine perfectly straight as the sunlight from the atelier windows caught the clean line of her silhouette. In the background, Natasha’s reflection was visible, smirking from the corner of a mirror, and Lewis was blurry in the lower corner from where Nick’s thumb had partially covered the camera.

Serena stared at the image like it belonged to someone else. Someone who had a date on a calendar, a menu picked, a cake flavor chosen.

That woman didn’t exist anymore.

She hadn’t for a year.

A soft creak of floorboards snapped her out of the moment.

She immediately locked the phone and tucked it under her thigh, eyes lifting toward the open doorway.

Steve.

He stood there — broader than he used to be, older somehow, though still carrying the weight of everyone else’s safety on his shoulders like a natural extension of his spine.

His hair was longer, darker at the ends, curling slightly above his ears. His beard was full now, salt beginning to show just under his jaw. He was wearing tactical pants and a black thermal shirt — sleeves pushed up, dirt along the seams, his shoulders wet from the rain outside.

But it was his eyes that stopped her.

Something was wrong.

Her brows pulled together. “What happened?”

He moved forward, pulling the wet sleeves higher. “I just got off a call with Tony.”

Serena blinked. “What?”

“Encrypted line,” he said, tension in his voice. “It was short, but clear. New York was attacked.”

Her stomach dropped. “By who?”

“Aliens,” he said grimly. “Again.”

She stared at him.

Steve ran a hand through his wet hair. “Banner’s back. Thor’s missing. Stark’s in the wind. But Tony said they came looking for something.”

Serena stood, the quiet from before now a memory.

“What were they looking for?”

Steve looked at her, jaw tight. “The stones. The ones Thor told us about — after Sokovia. The ones he thought were converging for a reason. He was right.”

Serena’s mouth went dry. “Vision.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up sharply. “You’ve kept in touch?”

“Not directly,” she said, already crossing to the secure locker tucked beneath the floorboards. “But Wanda checks in through back channels. Once a month. No names. No details. Just a pin drop and a timestamp.”

He stepped closer. “Do you know where they are?”

Serena nodded once. “Last ping was three days ago.”

She pulled up her phone again and unlocked a secure ghost network she and Nick had created post-Accords. The GPS coordinate pulsed once, and then resolved on the screen.

“Edinburgh, Scotland.”

Steve’s expression sharpened. “They’re exposed.”

“They’ve stayed off-grid. Quiet. But if someone knows what they’re carrying—”

“They’re already targets,” he finished, grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door. “We need to move.”

Serena stopped him briefly, placing a hand on his chest, her emerald engagement ring shining briefly in the light.

“Wait.”

He paused, hand on the doorframe.

She looked at him — at the man she had almost married, the man she still wants to marry, the man she was engaged to, who had stood beside her in bunkers and battlefields, who had seen every inch of her scar tissue and stayed.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Steve didn’t answer right away.

Then, “I feel like the world’s holding its breath. And something’s about to fall apart.”

Serena nodded slowly. “Then let’s make sure we’re the last ones standing when it does.”

Steve looked at her for a long beat, before glancing to her ring.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she whispered.

He held her gaze a moment longer, then briefly kissed the back of her hand.

They didn’t speak again.

The door shut softly behind them.

And just like that — they were back in the war.

Together.

 

Notes:

Apologies for the long wait, I've been rather busy. We are now heading into Infinity War! Buckle up, it's about to get crazy!

If you're wondering why I did an all flashback chapter, I wanted to show how serena's mind developed the way it did, and why she's fearful of certain things.

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or ideas.

Chapter 45: Chapter 45

Flashback: 2015 (3 Years Ago)

Location: Avengers Compound — Upstate New York

There were many things Steve Rogers believed in: honor, duty, teamwork, the American pastime.

There were many things the rest of the Avengers believed in: not playing baseball at 9 a.m. on a Saturday.

“Team bonding,” Steve had said brightly, holding a clipboard like it was a peace treaty. “We need to strengthen trust, communication. Baseball’s a great way to build camaraderie.”

“You’re from the 1940s,” Natasha muttered. “You think tapioca pudding builds camaraderie.”

And yet—here they were.

The field was a disaster from the start. 

An empty grassy expanse just behind the main hangar had been hastily mowed, marked with cones, and transformed — if you squinted hard enough — into something kind of resembling a baseball diamond.

Rhodey, firmly refusing to participate in “a sport designed to humiliate us in slow motion”, had volunteered to referee, mostly so he could stand on the sidelines with an iced coffee and judge everyone.

Clint was already stretching like this was the actual Olympics.

Sam was pretending this counted as cardio.

Wanda was gently levitating the ball because she didn’t understand how curveballs worked.

Vision had Googled “How to Baseball” 42 minutes ago and was trying his best.

Natasha was already threatening to break someone’s kneecaps if they hit her with a ball.

Steve had called it team bonding.

Natasha had called it a war crime. 

Clint had shown up in a Kansas City Royals cap and eye black, claiming “this is my Roman Empire,” while his wife Laura set up lawn chairs for the kids alongside Dr. Selvig, Cameron Klein, and a rather regal-looking Molly, Serena’s golden retriever, who was wearing a baseball jersey that said “TEAM CHAOS” across the back.

And in the very back, seated in foldable chairs behind a suspiciously well-assembled media table, were Tony and Serena — both half-drunk, wearing aviators, sipping sangria from tumblers, and holding cheap plastic microphones Tony absolutely built ten minutes ago.

"Welcome," Serena said into her mic, deadpan, "to what will undoubtedly be the most cursed example of American sport ever put to grass."

“It's baseball,” Tony added cheerfully, already pink from the sun and the sangria. “Which is short for barely anyone knows the rules but we’re committed anyway.”

"Today's match-up," Serena intoned, flipping through a clipboard with no actual notes, "features the Old Guard versus the Sparkly Newbies. It’s a battle of ancient grizzled trauma versus unfocused potential and metaphysical dread."

Tony took a sip. “In one corner: Team Senior Discount, led by the World War II ghost himself, Captain Let’s Fix It With Honor, accompanied by Anger in a Catsuit and Bird-Dad With Secrecy Issues.”

Serena didn’t even blink. “And in the other corner: Team Daddy Issues & Vibes, featuring Futuristic Toaster Man, Telekinetic Goth Witch, and The Guy Who Wears Goggles Indoors.”

Rhodey stood between the teams, arms crossed, already done. “I swear, if someone gets hurt—”

“—We’ll televise it,” Tony cut in.

“I was going to say ‘I’m not writing the paperwork,’ but sure,” Rhodey muttered.

Steve approached, tossing a ball in one hand. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

“I bribed the lab techs,” Wanda called from center field, in joggers and an old Yankees hoodie. “They think they’re getting hazard pay.”

Indeed, several SHIELD staffers — clearly regretting their career choices — were awkwardly stationed at first and third base. One wore loafers. One was on a Zoom call with mute on.

“Is the dog allowed to field?” Clint asked, pointing at Molly, who was already chasing a butterfly into left field.

“Only if she plays better than Vision,” Natasha deadpanned.

“Hey,” Vision said, indignant, floating four inches off the ground. “I have downloaded seven baseball tutorials.”

“And yet you’re still levitating,” Sam said, arms crossed.

“Gravity is optional,” Vision replied.

“So is dignity, apparently,” Serena cut in, adjusting her mic.

Tony cracked up. “You see why I keep her around. She’s like Barbie but with rage issues.”

Serena didn’t miss a beat. “And you’re like Ken but if he ran a defense contracting firm and had a God complex.”

From the lawn chairs, Clint’s daughter Lila shouted, “GO DAD! TRY NOT TO TEAR YOUR ROTATOR CUFF THIS TIME.”

Clint cupped his hands. “Thanks, sweetheart! Love you too!”

From behind home plate, Rhodey blew a whistle. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Up first,” Serena drawled, swiping the tablet, “we have Captain America himself, Steve Rogers. Walk-up song: Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies.’”

Steve, already halfway to the plate, stopped and slowly turned to the booth.

Tony grinned. “Because nothing says alpha male baseball energy like Beyoncé telling you to put a ring on it, which—” he winked at Serena, “—he technically has.”

Serena raised her wine. “Engaged, but still very single in these batting skills.”

Clint spit out his Gatorade.

“Let’s be clear,” Serena added. “None of us want to be here. Least of all Steve, who will pretend to enjoy this for the sake of morale, but will absolutely re-watch Ken Burns’ Baseball documentary alone in his room later to cope.”

Steve sighed and swung.

The ball cracked into deep right field, where a lab tech screamed and dove.

“HE’S GOING FOR SECOND!” Serena narrated. “LOOK AT HIM GO, LOOK AT HIM REMEMBER HIS ENTIRE DEPRESSION ERA CHILDHOOD IN THOSE STRIDES.”

Sam, catching the ball, tagged Steve with unnecessary flair.

“OUT!” Rhodey yelled.

“Debatable!” Tony declared. “I demand an instant replay. Oh wait. We’re too poor for that.”

They both were silent for a moment before they broke it.

"We're not." Tony began, looking to Serena with a smirk, gesturing between the two of them, before gesturing to the field. "But they are."

Serena nodded. "I've never heard a more truer statement come out of your mouth."

Natasha jogged past, batting gloves already on.

“Next up: Natasha Romanoff,” Tony said, clicking the walk-up track.

The opening notes of Barbie Girl blasted from the speakers.

Natasha didn’t break stride. “Dead. You’re both dead.”

“I love when she threatens violence,” Serena said calmly. “It means we’re doing our job.”

“Ironic, considering Barbie here threatened to strangle me with a Gucci scarf once,” Tony added.

Serena sipped. “I stand by that.”

Bottom of the second. Chaos had fully bloomed.

Wanda had hit a foul ball that curved in midair like a sentient drone. Vision had run through second base instead of stopping on it. Clint had tripped trying to steal home and rolled so dramatically that Tony slow-mo replayed it five times, cackling like a child.

“Rhodey,” Steve said, jogging over during the changeover. “Quick question. Does it count as interference if Vision phases through the catcher?”

Rhodey didn’t even look up. “I don’t know what’s worse. The playing skills out here…or that—” He gestured with his coffee to the booth.

Serena and Tony were hysterically laughing at the tablet in front of them, tears in their eyes. The screen was frozen on Clint’s fall, replaying in slow-motion, complete with sound effects Tony kept layering in.

Steve grimaced. “She hates him.”

“Yup.”

“And he hates her.”

“Yup.”

“He calls her Barbie.”

“She calls him asshole.”

“Yup,” Rhodey said again. “And now they’re co-hosting a wine-drunk roast of our national pastime.”

Serena’s voice blared from the mic. “In a shocking twist, Barton’s bones are apparently made of styrofoam and poor life choices.”

Tony added, “And Steve just asked if a vibranium android sliding through solid matter was against the rules. Tune in next inning to find out if anyone knows how baseball works!”

Clint’s kids were now on the field. Lila had declared herself the new umpire. Nathaniel had stolen Molly’s tennis ball and was holding it hostage.

Selvig had fallen asleep in left field.

Wanda was levitating snacks to the announcers.

Vision was practicing holding a bat like it was a sword.

Molly had wandered to the booth and was sitting at Serena’s feet, ears perked.

Tony leaned into the mic again. “Serena, I know you hate me.”

“I do.”

“And I know I’m the last person you’d want to co-host anything with.”

“Absolutely.”

“But…” He grinned, “this is objectively the best thing we’ve ever done.”

Serena smirked, leaning back with her wine. “We should televise it.”

Tony turned to her, eyes wide. “Every year.”

“For the rest of our lives.”

Steve, standing in the outfield with his hands on his hips, just shook his head, watching Serena double over in laughter.

He looked at Natasha, who stood beside him.

“She hates him,” Steve muttered again.

Natasha smirked. “Then why do they sound like friends?”

“Because,” Steve sighed, “this is how Serena expresses joy. Sarcasm and controlled explosions.”

“Speaking of which,” Natasha said, eyeing Clint trying to climb the bleachers, “ten bucks says someone breaks something in the next five minutes.”

Serena’s voice cut in overhead.

“And that’s a wrap on the fifth inning, folks. Tune in next year when we get drunk again and ruin a different sport. Water polo, perhaps.”

“Or fencing.” Tony suggested

“God help us.” Serena murmured.

It was the last time she remembered them all laughing.

 

The last time they were a team.

A family.

 

Before everything shattered.

Before they chose sides.

2 Months Later

Location: Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

The Quinjet touched down in the landing bay with a smooth thrum of power, the kind that meant for once, things hadn’t gone sideways.

It was late. The kind of quiet that followed a successful op settled over the hangar — one that was more satisfying than celebratory. The mission had been clean, precise, and — according to Natasha — almost boring, which in their world was just shy of miraculous.

Steve stood near the edge of the Quinjet’s open ramp, shoulders relaxed, sweat cooling on his skin. His tac suit was unzipped halfway, sleeves rolled, arms resting on the guard rail.

Behind him, the rest of the team was dispersing — Wanda and Vision heading toward the med bay for debrief and scan, Sam peeling off to hit the showers, Natasha lingering near a tablet on the console.

And then there was Serena — stepping out of the jet slowly, her hair pulled up, gloves tucked under one arm, that signature calm expression she wore when her mind was still quietly ticking through contingency plans.

“You good?” Steve asked, glancing sideways as she joined him at the ramp’s edge.

Serena exhaled through her nose, her eyes flicking out across the landing bay. “Yeah,” she said, a little surprised. “It actually went the way we planned.”

Steve gave a small smile. “Almost unsettling, isn’t it?”

She turned toward him slightly, her eyes warm. “You know, I used to think successful missions were flukes. Now I think it just means the team’s finally clicking.”

“They’re good,” Steve said, nodding. “Rough around the edges. But good.”

“You’re a good leader.”

He gave her a look.

She smirked. “Take the compliment, Rogers.”

He bumped her shoulder with his. “You made that operation smooth. Vision would’ve triggered a ten-person pileup if you hadn’t reworked the entry plan.”

Serena shrugged. “Well. He’s still learning how to move like a human being and not like... a haunted Roomba.”

Steve barked a short laugh.

Serena grinned and leaned her elbows on the Quinjet railing beside him, the two of them catching their breath in the warm glow of the overhead lights. Their shoulders nearly touched. For a rare second — things felt normal.

Natasha walked past them down the ramp, slowing as she caught sight of the two of them.

Steve relaxed. Serena actually smiled. A real one.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, then reached into her pocket and casually pulled out her phone.

Serena noticed. “Romanoff—”

“I’m taking a picture. You both look... freakishly not-traumatized. It’s unsettling. I need proof it happened.”

Steve glanced at Serena with a raised brow. “She always like this?”

“Worse when she’s smug,” Serena replied.

Click.

The shutter snapped.

Natasha smirked. “There. One for the archives.”

Serena shook her head but didn’t protest. Steve nudged her again lightly.

“You ever think we’d get moments like this?” he asked, quietly.

She tilted her head toward him. “No,” she admitted. “Not after everything. But I’m glad we did.”

They stayed there a moment longer, watching the hangar bustle in its quiet, efficient way.

That photo would later sit in a folder on Natasha’s encrypted drive. A rare snapshot of calm — Serena and Steve, side by side, bruised but whole, smiling just enough to make you believe in peace for more than five minutes.

They didn’t know how short-lived it would be.

Present Day: 2019

Location: En route to Edinburgh, Quinjet

The Quinjet hummed low as it cut through the cloud line over the North Sea, headed southeast toward Scotland. Inside, the cabin was dimly lit, all brushed steel and low blue LED strips, casting everyone in sharp angles and quiet shadows.

Steve stood near the tactical table, his arms braced on either side as a holographic layout of Edinburgh Waverley Station spun slowly in front of him. The soft flick of projected buildings matched the tension in his voice.

“Extraction point is here,” he said, tapping the corner entrance with a gloved finger. “Vision and Wanda were spotted entering a flat above the station’s west annex two days ago. Minimal movement since. If someone else is tracking them, they’re likely waiting to strike before extraction.”

Sam crossed his arms from where he leaned against the bulkhead. “Any idea who’s already there?”

Steve shook his head. “No. But if it’s who we think—this isn’t going to be subtle.”

“Then we don’t go subtle either,” Natasha said evenly, adjusting the strap on her shoulder holster. Her tone was focused, calm. Like she’d already accepted the worst-case scenario.

Serena stood quietly near the side bench, one hand loosely wrapped around the rail, her other holding her phone — screen dim, but not off.

She wasn’t looking at the map.

She was looking at the photo.

Natasha’s photo.

Late 2015.

Quinjet ramp.

Serena laughing softly, Steve leaning close, both caught in a rare moment of genuine peace.

For a second, she could still hear what that day felt like.

Before the Accords.

Before everything splintered.

Before they were fugitives living in the shadow of a crumbling world order.

She blinked.

“You still with us?” Steve’s voice cut gently through the fog.

Serena snapped her eyes up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He gave her a look. Not judgment. Just understanding. Familiarity.

“I was just thinking,” she added, voice quieter now, “about how much this feels like the beginning of the end. Again.”

Natasha’s gaze flicked toward her. “You’re not wrong.”

Sam pushed off the wall, his jaw tightening. “If Stark called you,” he said to Steve, “it means it’s bad.”

Steve nodded once. “He didn’t say much. Just said, ‘They’re coming for the stones. Get to the girl and the robot first.’”

“That’s a hell of a peace offering,” Sam muttered.

“Tony’s not the type to call unless he’s scared,” Serena said softly, eyes still on the photo.

Steve looked at her, brow drawn. “You’re worried this will break us again.”

“I think we’re already broken,” Serena admitted. “But this… could shatter what’s left.”

A beat of silence passed over the jet.

Then Steve walked over slowly, until he was beside her.

“I don’t care what Stark thinks,” he said. “This time we don’t run. We protect our people.”

Serena looked up at him. “And if it’s not enough?”

He reached out and gently took the phone from her hand. Looked at the photo.

“I remember this day,” he said quietly. “We’d just pulled off the mission in Slovakia. You punched Sam in the arm for calling you ‘the most terrifying person he’s ever met.’”

Serena cracked a faint smile. “Because he meant it as a compliment.”

Steve smiled back. “We were building something then. A new kind of team.”

“And then we burned it down,” she whispered.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “They tried to. But we’re still here.”

He handed the phone back, and with it, a steadiness she didn’t realize she needed.

Natasha joined them at the table again. “Wanda and Vision are targets. We don’t get them out, Thanos gets one step closer.”

Sam clipped his goggles onto his belt. “Then we don’t let him.”

Serena looked between them. Her family — frayed, wounded, exhausted — but still standing.

She tucked the photo away in her pocket.

“Let’s go get our girl,” she said quietly.

Steve nodded. “Suit up.”

Outside, the clouds began to thin, and the city lights of Edinburgh flickered on the horizon.

War was coming.

But they were already in it.

 

 

 

Notes:

No more flashbacks for a while! Next chapter will fully jump into Infinity War! I still have to make some decisions on who I'm blipping...some are confirmed, some are not. But I may change this.

As for if Serena gets blipped...keep reading to find out.

Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Present Day: 2018

Location: Edinburgh, Scotland 

The alley behind Waverley Station reeked of fried oil, soot, and the faint metallic tang of rain-soaked steel. The flicker of neon signs cast colored shadows across the narrow path where Wanda Maximoff stood protectively in front of Vision, his frame flickering with visible static and weakness. His skin, usually pearlescent, was now marred with cracks around the embedded Mind Stone in his forehead. He was losing power. Fast.

Wanda raised a trembling hand toward the advancing figures. Two shapes — tall, sharp, otherworldly — stepped from the darkness like specters.

Proxima Midnight’s pale blue skin glinted in the half-light, her glowing spear crackling with dark cosmic energy. Beside her, Corvus Glaive stalked forward, his obsidian armor catching the flicker of nearby train lights.

Wanda’s pulse thundered in her ears.

Behind her, a train screeched into the station, rattling the concrete and masking the silence of something—someone—else approaching.

As the final train car roared past, everything held its breath. A figure stood at the end of the alley, cloaked in shadow.

Proxima narrowed her eyes and hurled her spear—straight at the silhouette.

It never reached.

The weapon was caught mid-flight, one-handed.

Steve Rogers stepped forward, bearded and battle-worn, eyes glinting with familiar resolve.

In an instant, the shadows burst into motion.

Falcon swooped down from above, wings slicing the air. Sam kicked Proxima hard, sending her crashing into the opposite wall. He wheeled around, firing bursts of plasma at Glaive.

Captain America tossed Proxima’s weapon into the air—where it was caught effortlessly by a blur of dark green and black.

Serena—Viper—landed with feline grace, dressed in her CIA strike suit: deep forest green panels edged in black tactical seams, her high collar zipped up, the utility belt hugging her waist. Her jet black hair was braided tight, her face showed a slight grit to it, but it only emphasized the ferocity in her eyes.

Without hesitation, she turned the weapon in her grip and hurled it into Corvus Glaive’s path—just as Natasha descended from above and drove her electrified batons into his midsection.

Corvus reeled.

Viper was already moving—silent, brutal. She slid beneath Proxima’s recovering swing, swept her leg, and planted a boot in her ribcage that sent her reeling toward Steve. He caught her, twisted, and slammed her into the station column with practiced force.

Proxima growled, her spear returning to her hand in a shimmer of light. She whirled and attacked both Steve and Natasha at once. The three danced around each other in a deadly rhythm—until Sam circled back in and drop-kicked her across the alley.

She landed hard beside Glaive.

"Get up," Proxima hissed.

"I can't," Glaive rasped.

"We don't wanna kill you," Natasha said coolly. "But we will."

Proxima's eyes burned. "You'll never get the chance again."

And in a shimmer of violet light, they vanished—beamed up into nothing.

Silence returned.

"Can you stand?" Sam asked, crouching beside Vision.

Vision nodded weakly. "Thank you, Captain."

Steve’s hand was already on his shoulder, steadying him. "Let’s get you on the jet."

As they turned toward the nearby alley exit, Serena’s voice cut sharp across the cold air.

“Wanda—what the hell were you thinking?”

Wanda froze at the Quinjet’s ramp, Vision limping beside her.

Serena had pulled off her mask, her braid whipping slightly in the wind. The green of her suit gleamed under the jet’s running lights. Her face was flushed—not from exertion. From fury.

“You’ve been ignoring check-ins,” Serena snapped. “Moving from city to city without disguises. What do you think happens if Ross finds out you’ve been strolling through open-air markets with a war-criminal android and zero tactical cover?”

Wanda’s expression was tight, defensive. “We just wanted time.”

“Time?” Serena’s tone sharpened, eyes flashing. “Wanda, this isn’t about what you want. This is about risk. About exposure. If Ross had eyes on you—if he does—do you want to end up back at the Raft?”

Wanda flinched at that.

Even Vision stirred.

“You’ve gotten more stern,” Wanda muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. “You used to be the one telling me not to lose hope.”

Serena scoffed, bitter. “That was before hope got people killed.”

“Ser.” Steve’s voice was low, warning.

She didn’t look at him.

“I get it,” Wanda said quietly. “You’re scared.”

That did it.

Steve stepped between them gently and reached out, curling his fingers around Serena’s wrist. “Ser—enough.”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t resist as he tugged her aside and into the dim cargo hold. As soon as the door hissed closed behind them, she let out a sharp breath and pressed her palms to the wall.

Steve waited.

“Everything’s unraveling,” she said finally, her voice cracking. “And I’m not angry, I’m scared, Steve. I’m scared because we are one headline away from being dragged in chains back to the Raft. And if they get Vision—if they get that stone—”

Her breathing hitched.

Her knees trembled slightly.

She pressed her hand to her sternum.

“I can’t—I can’t breathe.”

“Hey. Hey.” Steve’s arms wrapped around her from behind, strong, warm. “Serena. Look at me.”

She turned, eyes wide and damp. Her pulse was wild.

“Baby, listen to me.” He gently took her face in his hands. “You’re here. We’re safe. You got them out. You did everything right.”

Her hands fisted in his shirt. “They’re gonna come for us. I can feel it.”

“Then let them,” Steve whispered. “Let them try. We’ve been here before. And every time, we walk through the fire. Together.”

She blinked at him, breath slowly beginning to return.

“I’m not letting them take you,” he added. “I’m not letting them take any of us.”

Her forehead dropped against his shoulder. “I didn’t even see them coming.”

“Nobody did.”

She was quiet for a beat.

Then softly: “I hate this suit. I hate how disgusting it's become these last few years.”

Steve chuckled, low and warm against her ear. “You look hot in it.”

She snorted. “That’s because it’s made of tactical Kevlar and regret.”

He kissed her temple. “And you’re still the most terrifying person Sam’s ever met.”

A pause.

“…He meant that as a compliment.”

“Damn right he did.”

They stayed there a beat longer—just long enough for her pulse to even out.

Outside, the jet’s rear door shut.

"I thought we had a deal," Natasha said coolly, her voice drifting through the cabin as she addressed Wanda. "Stay close, check in. Don’t take any chances."

Wanda lowered her eyes, before looking towards Serena. "I’m sorry. We just wanted time."

Serena sighed. "It's ok."

"Where to, Cap?" Sam called from the cockpit.

Steve turned to Serena, who finally nodded, her spine straight once more.

"Home," Steve said.

And the jet lifted off into the clouds, slicing away from the burning edge of war.

Location: Avengers Compound — Upstate New York

The atrium of the Avengers Compound had once been a beacon of unity. Now, it felt like a husk of memory. Dimmer. Heavier.

Colonel James Rhodes stood alone in the command room, arms folded behind his back, the glow of a holographic transmission illuminating the deep lines of fatigue on his face. On the other end: Secretary Thaddeus Ross — puffed up with bureaucratic venom and rage, his jaw clenched so tight you could hear the grind in his words.

"Still no word from Vision?"

Rhodey didn’t flinch. "Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh."

"On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals."

Rhodey straightened slightly, unbothered. "You know they're only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir?"

Ross leaned forward into the camera. "My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own."

"If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would've been right here."

A beat.

Ross’s voice dripped with acid. "I remember your signature on those papers, Colonel."

"That's right. And I'm pretty sure I’ve paid for that."

"You have second thoughts?"

"Not anymore."

A new voice cut through the room—calm, firm, unshakable.

"Mr. Secretary."

Ross's face darkened as Steve stepped into the light, followed closely by Serena, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision. All battle-worn, shadowed, but standing tall.

Ross’s voice curled in disdain. "You’ve got some nerve. I’ll give you that."

Natasha, arms folded, stepped forward. "You could use some of that right now."

"The world’s on fire," Ross snapped. "And you think all is forgiven?"

Steve met his gaze without blinking. "I’m not looking for forgiveness. And I’m way past asking for permission."

A beat of silence.

Steve’s voice dropped, resolute.

"Earth just lost her best defender. So we’re here to fight. And if you want to stand in our way... we’ll fight you too."

Ross turned to Rhodes with a sneer. "Arrest them."

Without missing a beat, Rhodey turned off the hologram with a flick of his wrist. The silence in the room cracked like thunder, before he glanced down at his cell phone vibrating on the table. He immediately hit ignore.

"That’s a court-martial." He looked up, a slow smile tugging at his mouth. "It’s great to see you, Cap."

Steve gave a tired nod. "You too, Rhodey."

"Well." Rhodey looked around at the group. "You guys really look like crap. Must’ve been a rough couple of years."

"Yeah, well," Sam said, scratching at the back of his neck, "the hotels weren’t exactly five star."

Bruce walked in just then, looking awkward and slightly unsure of how to hold his posture. His eyes locked on the familiar faces in disbelief.

"Uh, I think you look great," he said. "Yeah. I’m back."

"Hi, Bruce." Natasha’s voice was soft.

Bruce blinked. "Nat."

Sam gave a low whistle. "This is awkward."

After everyone quickly regrouped, and got what they needed, they all met in the compound's common room. The tension inside the tactical meeting space felt like it was a thick, breathing thing. Bruce stood beside the central table, tapping commands into a flickering projection of Earth’s orbital paths and blinking satellites.

"So we gotta assume they’re coming back, right?" he asked, gesturing toward Vision. "And they can clearly find us. We need all hands on deck. Where’s Clint?"

Natasha exchanged a glance with Steve and Serena. "After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families."

Bruce frowned. "Who’s Scott?"

"Ant-Man," Steve said plainly.

Bruce looked confused. "There’s an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" He shook his head and muttered, "Okay, look… Thanos has the biggest army in the universe. And he is not going to stop until he—he gets..." His voice caught as his eyes met Vision’s. "...Vision’s stone."

"Then we have to protect it," Serena said.

Vision straightened from where he leaned against the wall. "No. We have to destroy it."

Everyone turned.

"I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head—its nature, its composition. If it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something very similar to its own signature, perhaps..." His voice faltered slightly, gaze falling to Wanda. "...its molecular integrity could fail."

He stepped toward her slowly.

"And you, with it." Wanda’s voice was low, firm. "We’re not having this conversation."

"Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain Thanos can’t get it."

"That’s too high a price."

"Only you have the power to pay it." His voice softened. "Thanos threatens half the universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him."

Steve shook his head. "But it should. We don’t trade lives, Vision."

Vision looked at him, searching.

"Captain... seventy years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people? Tell me—why is this any different?"

Steve hesitated. He drew a breath.

But Bruce stepped in.

"Because you might have a choice." He moved around the table. "Your mind is a complex construct. Jarvis, Ultron, Tony, me... the stone. All learning from each other."

"You’re saying Vision isn’t just the stone?" Wanda asked.

Bruce nodded. "I’m saying that... if we take out the stone, there’s still a whole lot of Vision left. Maybe the best parts."

Natasha folded her arms. "Can we do that?"

"Not me," Bruce said. "Not here."

"You better find someone, and somewhere fast," Rhodey added, glancing toward the command center. "Ross isn’t exactly gonna let you guys have your old rooms back."

Silence fell.

Steve looked down for a second, then slowly raised his head.

"I know somewhere."

Across the room, Serena’s eyes lifted and found his. For a breath, it was just the two of them—an unspoken understanding threaded in the glance. The past behind them. The fight ahead.

She didn’t speak. She just gave a small nod.

But when she turned back to the others, her voice was steel.

“We don’t have the luxury of second chances,” she said. “Ross already wants blood. The second he finds out we’re planning anything off-grid, we become targets. Again.”

Wanda’s eyes dropped, guilt flickering there.

Serena didn’t let up. “We’re not fugitives anymore. We’re warriors preparing for war. So let’s start acting like it.”

Steve stepped beside her and rested a hand gently on her back—just enough to steady her, not silence her.

She softened beneath the touch but didn’t shrink back.

"Then let’s go," Sam said, already moving.

Steve’s voice was calm but resolute. "Pack what you need. We’re heading to Wakanda."

Serena immediately pulled out her phone and started texting Nick.

Serena: Better suit up, we're bringing the party to you.

Nick:  I'll inform T'Challa, to make the preparations. Of course you bring 'the party'. Trouble, when have you ever brought a party?

Serena: Uh, Monza 2013...the year I taught Sebastian Vettel to do a Keg-stand.

Nick:  Fair point. See you soon.

Serena sighed putting her phone away and looking to Steve.

"They know we're coming." She explained. "Nick is informing T'Challa."

Bruce frowned. "How can Wakanda be prepared? They're a third-world country."

Serena smiled. "You have no idea."

Outside the windows, clouds were gathering again. But inside, the team—fractured, rebuilt—finally moved with purpose.

The storm was coming.

And they were done running.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or requests.

Also fill free to predict who's getting blipped!

Chapter 47: Chapter 47

Location: Wakanda

The dull hum of the Quinjet's engines filled the cabin, steady and monotonous — a mechanical heartbeat in the silence that had settled over its passengers.

Serena sat near the back, her arms loosely folded, one leg crossed over the other, her dark green Viper suit still slightly scorched from the Edinburgh fight. She wasn't tired, but her body ached in that familiar, quietly pulsing way that came after a mission. Bruised, but intact. For now.

Across from her, Bruce and Natasha sat facing one another, an awkward ocean of history stretching between them. They exchanged glances — tight, quick, riddled with things unsaid — before both looked away again.

Serena watched the interaction in silence, her expression unreadable. She had no stake in it, but the tension was suffocating. They hadn't spoken much since Bruce returned. Now, they didn't seem to know how.

She shifted her gaze, instead finding Vision and Wanda near the center of the cabin.

They were close — not touching, not whispering — just in tune. Wanda sat angled toward him, her hand lightly brushing his arm every so often. Vision, pale and pained, leaned into her presence like it was the only anchor he had left.

Serena's eyes softened. They were doomed — she knew it. Everyone did. But they were still trying. Still holding onto something beautiful in the middle of chaos.

Hopelessly in love, she thought.

Her stomach twisted. Not with jealousy, but with a strange, aching fear. She had that too. She had Steve. And this mission — this war — could take it from her.

Without a word, she rose and made her way toward the front of the jet, the metal floor cool beneath her boots. She reached the cockpit, where Rhodey sat comfortably in the co-pilot seat, flipping through a navigation log.

"Out," Serena said flatly.

Rhodey glanced up. "You serious?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "I just endured fighting an alien, a psychic bomb, and thirty minutes of romantic tension in the back row. I'm sitting next to Steve."

He held up his hands. "Copy that."

He stood, squeezing past her with a muttered, "Try not to hit anything."

Serena slid into the seat beside Steve without a word, eyes focused on the glowing controls ahead.

Steve glanced over, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Kicking Rhodey out?"

"I needed a minute," she said quietly.

He nodded, turning his attention back to the display screen. The outline of Wakanda was just beginning to form on the radar.

"Everyone's tense," he murmured. "We're flying into a war, and no one knows what's waiting."

"I know," she said, voice low. "But it's not just that."

He turned toward her, watching her profile. "What is it?"

She hesitated before answering. "Everyone here has something to lose. Families. People they love. Wanda's not going to survive losing Vision. Natasha can't look Bruce in the eye. And me?"

She paused, eyes meeting his.

"I just keep thinking... if we lose this, I won't get to marry you."

Steve was quiet for a beat. Then his hand reached out, brushing over hers where it rested on her leg.

"You will," he said softly. "When this is over, Ser... we're getting married. I don't care where. Or how. But it's happening."

She turned her hand, fingers lacing through his, her emerald engagement ring catching the dim cockpit light in a brief, brilliant gleam.

"Thank God," she said, exhaling. "I was getting worried I'd have to sell my custom Ralph Lauren dresses."

Steve blinked. "I've never seen either."

"You won't," she smirked, leaning back in the chair. "They're at my mom's house. And you'll see neither until the day of the wedding."

He chuckled, eyes flicking back to the windshield. "You're terrifying, you know that?"

She leaned into his shoulder slightly, her voice quieter. "That's why you love me." 

The Quinjet descended through the clouds over Wakanda, slicing through the mist like a blade. Beneath them, the golden plains shimmered in the sunlight, and the glistening vibranium towers of Birnin Zana rose like beacons of another world — ancient and futuristic all at once.

Serena sat near the ramp, her eyes steady but her pulse low and slow. The rumble of the landing gear didn't startle her. The weight of what came next was already lodged in her chest.

As the jet settled onto the private platform just beyond the palace courtyard, the ramp hissed and lowered. The humid Wakandan air swept in, warm and fragrant with distant spices and sun-drenched stone.

Steve was the first to step forward, and the rest followed in practiced formation.

Bruce lingered beside Rhodey, adjusting his shirt collar. "Should we bow?"

Rhodey didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, he's a king."

Steve descended the ramp, his boots clicking softly on the stone as T'Challa approached, cloaked in royal black with the Panther etched into every fiber of his presence.

"Seems like I'm always thanking you for something," Steve said as he extended his hand.

T'Challa grasped it firmly.

Bruce, a step behind, bent into a stiff, awkward bow.

Rhodey side-eyed him. "What are you doing?"

T'Challa lifted a brow, then motioned with a small flick of his hand. "Uh, we don't do that here."

Steve smiled faintly.

T'Challa turned, his gaze moving over the group. "So. How big of an assault can we expect?"

Bruce cleared his throat. "Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault."

T'Challa nodded, his expression sharpening. "You will have my King's Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and..."

A familiar figure strode from the palace steps — long-haired, lean, with a vibranium arm gleaming in the sun.

"A semi-stable, hundred-year-old man," Bucky Barnes said, offering a rare smile.

Steve stepped forward and wrapped his friend in a hug.

"How you been, Buck?"

Bucky shrugged. "Not bad, for the end of the world."

Behind them, footsteps pounded up the outer stairs, fast and familiar. Serena turned, her eyes narrowing just before the figure came into view.

"Jesus, Trouble," Nick muttered, arms open as he grabbed her in a tight hug. "You look like shit."

Serena exhaled a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob as she leaned into the embrace.

"Missed you too, asshole."

"I heard Edinburgh. You okay?" Nick's voice dipped lower. Protective.

"Still vertical."

"Barely."

Behind him, a woman with sun-kissed skin and blonde hair twisted into a low bun walked up, a soft smile on her face. Alison. She didn't speak — she just pulled Serena into a tighter hug than Nick had, and whispered into her ear, "You come back in one piece. Or I come find you."

Serena nodded against her shoulder. "Deal."

Nick grinned at Steve from behind Serena. "Still putting up with her?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Steve said.

"God help you." Nick turned to Serena. "Alright, Kid. Let's save the world again."

After brief introductions, T'Challa escorted everyone down to Shuri's lab. On the way, Nick explained what happened while she was gone. 

"Shuri had to save Everett's ass from dying." He explained to his sister. "I thought it was going to be official...maybe then we'd see Val cry."

"I doubt it." Serena sighed. "The only time I ever saw Val cry, was when she lost the Portofino villa in the divorce, and even then, it was because she couldn't store her clothes there anymore."

"Mom's villa in Positano is better anyways. I told Mom that you guys were coming in." Nick explained changing the subject. "She told me that Langley's assets are ready if we need them. Fury is also reconning with Klein, Selvig, and Hill."

"Good." She said with a nod. "We need all the help we can get at this point." 

Once they reached the lab, the room buzzed with kinetic energy — a delicate balance of hyper-advanced technology and ancient rhythm. Screens projected shimmering layers of Vision's internal structure, casting pale golden light across the group.

Vision lay on the med-bed, his body still, eyes closed. Bruce stood at his side, eyes darting over the hologram, while Shuri glided around the console with effortless command.

"Whoa," she said, tapping and spinning the neural map. "The structure is polymorphic."

Bruce nodded. "Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially."

Shuri tilted her head. "Why didn't you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?"

Bruce blinked, mouth parting. "Because... we didn't think of it."

Shuri gave a small, knowing smile. "I'm sure you did your best."

Serena, arms crossed near the back, muttered under her breath, "She's a menace and I love her."

Wanda stood nearby, gaze locked on Vision. "Can you do it?" she asked, voice tight.

Shuri grew serious. "Yes. But there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures."

She turned to T'Challa.

"It will take time, brother."

Steve stepped forward. "How long?"

Shuri's eyes flicked back to the hologram. "As long as you can give me."

A sharp ping echoed from Okoye's wrist.

She frowned and looked down. "Something's entered the atmosphere."

Over comms, Sam's voice crackled.

"Hey, Cap, we got a situation here."

A rumble shook the ground as one of the incoming vessels was intercepted by Wakanda's defense grid. A surge of orange light shot upward, tearing through the craft.

Bucky grinned. "God, I love this place."

Sam didn't smile. "Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming. Outside the dome."

The alert triggered a sudden wave of tension. Vision, who had quietly slipped out of his rest station, now stood beside the window, gazing at the distant horizon of smoke and fire.

"It's too late," he said. "We need to destroy the stone now."

"No." Wanda turned sharply. "Not yet."

Natasha's voice was steel. "Vision, get your ass back on the table."

T'Challa stepped forward. "We will hold them off."

Steve turned to Wanda, voice soft but resolute. "Wanda, as soon as the stone's out of his head... you blow it to hell."

Wanda hesitated, her hand brushing against Vision's. Her eyes glistened.

"I will."

T'Challa nodded. "Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures."

He turned to Okoye and pointed toward Steve.

"And get this man a shield."

The armory below the palace was alive with controlled chaos. Vibranium-clad weapons lined the walls in precise geometric rows, and tech panels pulsed with soft blue light as the final preparations unfolded. Warriors passed in and out with focused urgency, the tempo rising with each distant tremor from the approaching threat.

And then came Nick's hype music.

The thunderous riff of "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour blasted from a speaker cube Nick had rigged onto a vibranium crate. The bass thudded through the floor, shaking a line of ceremonial spears and drawing every eye in the room.

"OH C'MON," Alison groaned from the far end, slapping a fresh clip into her sidearm. "I left the Mossad for this. This."

She pinched the bridge of her nose as Nick strutted through the space, rhythmically nodding his head, a gleam of smug joy in his eyes. "You're welcome, Wakanda! The vibes have arrived."

He spun toward Okoye with flair and held out a gleaming vibranium spear like a mic. "You want in on this? The floor is yours, General!"

Okoye gave him a look that could shatter glaciers.

He slowly lowered the spear. "...Fair."

From beside the tactical table, Bruce raised an incredulous brow. "Wait, this is the feared  White Wolf? The guy who was in SEAL Team 6? The guy who took down multiple warlords in Iran?"

"I swear to God, he thinks he's CM Punk about to headline Wrestlemania." Sam commented in annoyance. 

"I have questions," Bucky muttered, mostly to himself.

"Yes," T'Challa added dryly as he walked past. "Hunter, please shut up."

Nick paused, grinning like a boy caught halfway through a prank. "You just suck the life out of everything."

But then — the crisis struck.

"Where the hell is my helmet?" Nick barked, rummaging through a crate like it owed him money. "My White Wolf helmet! The sexy one that makes me look terrifying! It's not here!"

His eyes narrowed.

"Serena?"

No response.

"Serena, you think you're slick?" he called, spinning in place. "Where are you? Are you insane, are you out of your damn mind? Suppose my beautiful face gets hit? Bring it back!"

From behind one of the support pillars, Serena appeared — helmet tucked casually under one arm, a brow lifted in bemused triumph. "Looking for this?"

"You little—" He stomped toward her, snatched it from her grasp. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you really think I was born yesterday?!"

Serena smirked and turned to walk away.

"Oh, no. No no no—get back here, you deceitful little French gecko!"

A Wakandan soldier blinked, stunned. "Did he say... gecko?"

Bucky, trying not to laugh, muttered, "This is better than daytime TV."

"You sound like Dad!" Serena called over her shoulder.

Nick froze. "You take that back! You better take that back!"

She made a dramatic gasp. "What are you gonna do? Call Mom?"

"I will! I will call her right now!"

"Oh no, I'm so scared!" she laughed. "Do it. I dare you. I was always the favorite."

Nick straightened, finger in the air. "Just because you're her favorite doesn't mean I don't have superiority!"

"You just called yourself old," Serena shot back, smug.

As the bickering continued, Nick's phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down and lit up. "Oh, perfect timing."

He hit the screen and raised it to his face as a call connected. "Lew! We're all gonna die! Say your prayers! Swear on your WDC this year!"

Lewis, calling in from a pristine paddock in Abu Dhabi, blinked into the camera. Sweat glistened on his brow under the lights of the Yas Marina Circuit, his headset still on. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Haven't you seen the news? We are getting invaded by aliens!" Nick explained.

Lewis blinked in confusion. "I just got finished with Q3, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you on pole?" Sam asked coming into frame before being pushed out of the way by Nick.

"Where's S?" 

Nick panned the camera around.

Serena, adjusting her utility belt, barely looked up. "Hi Lew."

Lewis tilted his head, mock-horrified. "S, you look like shit!"

"That's what I said!" Nick chimed in, triumphant.

Without missing a beat, Lewis grinned. "Say my name, say my name—"

Serena rolled her eyes, but smiled faintly. "When no one is around you, say baby I love you—"

"If you ain't runnin' game—" he sang back.

Sam blinked. "Do they always do this?"

Alison sighed, loading another magazine. "Yes. And no one can stop them."

"Ever," Nick added proudly. "It's tragic, honestly."

Lewis leaned into the camera, dead serious now. "S, Nick, get out alive. I want my whole crew together for Monaco next year."

Serena nodded, eyes steady. "Deal."

After saying goodbye to Lewis, Serena paced along the weapons table, sliding twin knives into new sheaths at her hips. Her hair was pulled back, face streaked with sweat, the weight of war already settling into her limbs.

Nick approached, helmet under one arm.

"You sure about this?"

"No," she said. "But that hasn't stopped me before."

"You're not invincible, Trouble."

Serena looked at him, eyes burning. "Neither is he."

Nick followed her gaze to Steve, now geared up and speaking quietly with T'Challa.

Alison passed her a comm bead. "You keep that in. You go silent for more than sixty seconds, I come in with a gunship."

Serena nodded. "Make it dramatic."

"I'll bring a soundtrack."

Serena turned to the door where the others were gathering. Her voice lowered, laced with steel, almost like she was trying to convince herself that everything was going to be ok.

"They want Vision. They want the stone. Let them come."

She stepped into the sunlight.

"They'll find hell waiting."

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

Fill free to make your predictions as well!

Chapter 48: Chapter 48

Location: Wakanda

The wind swept low over the Wakandan plains, hot and thick with the promise of war.

The ground trembled faintly beneath their boots as the enemy approached. The sky above was streaked with clouds of ash and dust, and the tree line across the battlefield shifted like the whisper of a beast waking from slumber.

Wakandan carriers hovered just above the red earth, sleek vibranium plating humming with energy. Inside one, Bruce lumbered forward in the Hulkbuster armor, still awkward with the weight.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of it," Bruce called through the comms. "Wow! It's like being the Hulk without actually—"

He tripped on a jagged rock. The massive suit groaned.

A carrier drifted past him in perfect formation. Okoye, standing inside, arched a single, unimpressed brow.

Bruce pushed himself up quickly. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Maybe don't talk while walking," Sam quipped overhead, flying low with his wings fully extended. "Heads up, Cap—we got two heat signatures breaking through the tree line."

From the rise above the plain, M'Baku roared out a war cry, his Jabari warriors echoing it with thunderous unity. They stood in tight formation as T'Challa approached.

T'Challa clasped M'Baku's shoulder.

"Thank you for standing with us."

M'Baku answered in Wakandan, firm and proud. "Of course, brother."

T'Challa nodded, his eyes narrowing on the horizon.

"We move," he said.

The sky was overcast with the shadow of incoming warships.

T'Challa, Steve, Natasha, and Serena stood at the edge of the Wakandan barrier — where shimmering blue energy pulsed and hissed like a living thing. Just beyond, Proxima Midnight waited, flanked by Cull Obsidian, her stance coiled like a predator ready to strike.

The forest behind them stirred — warships lurking in the trees like beasts waiting for the leash to snap.

Steve took a step forward.

Proxima's obsidian eyes tracked them like prey. Her gaze flicked to Serena, head tilting ever so slightly. Serena didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Her face was unreadable — but her body hummed with lethal restraint.

Natasha’s voice cut through the thick air. “Where’s your other friend?”

Proxima’s jaw clenched. “You will pay for his life with yours. Thanos will have that stone.”

Steve’s voice was low. Unshaken. “That’s not gonna happen.”

T’Challa stepped beside him, regal and steady. “You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.”

Proxima smiled, slow and dark. “We... have blood to spare.”

She raised her arm — and the treeline split with a thunderous crack. Several massive ships rose from the underbrush, clawing into the sky like jagged teeth.

A tense silence stretched between the two forces.

Serena finally took a step forward and didn’t flinch. But her hands, gloved and steady, slid to the twin blades sheathed at her thighs.

Proxima's eyes flicked toward her. "Ah. The serpent. I wondered if you'd slither out eventually."

Serena stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until her silhouette pressed against the barrier. The green and black of her Viper suit made her a shard of weaponized forest.

"Try me," she said calmly.

Proxima’s grin was all teeth. “You always fight like you’re trying to prove you belong.”

Serena’s face didn’t change. But her voice dropped — low, lethal.

“I fight like I don’t intend to die. You, on the other hand… should start saying goodbye to that smug face of yours.”

Cull growled and stepped forward — but Serena had already moved, her blade flashing in a tight arc. It slammed against the barrier just inches from Proxima’s throat, the dome’s energy humming where the strike landed.

Proxima flinched. Just barely.

But Serena saw it. And smiled.

Steve touched her arm gently. “Not yet.”

Her jaw was tight, but she nodded once, sheathing the blade in a clean, practiced motion. They turned. As they walked back toward the front lines, the sound of war drums thundered in the distance. Beneath the swell of footsteps, Steve glanced at Serena.

“You okay?”

She didn’t look at him. “No. But I’m ready.”

Back at the trench, the tension was already palpable.

Bucky, perched with rifle in hand, raised an eyebrow. “Did they surrender?”

Steve gave a dry nod. “Not exactly.”

“Yibambe!” T’Challa shouted from the front, voice ringing out like a war drum. “YIBAMBE!”

The Wakandan warriors roared in unison, slamming their spears and shields to the ground.

“YIBAMBE!”

The Outriders emerged like a wave of nightmares, slamming against the dome in a chaotic frenzy.

“They're killing themselves,” Okoye muttered, watching with horror as the alien beasts clawed and tore at the barrier, a few slipping through.

“You seen the teeth on those things?” Sam said through comms, diving overhead, releasing Redwing into the chaos. 

Rhodey, circling overhead, dropped a cascade of mines onto the front lines. “Back up, Sam. You’re gonna get your wings singed."

Sam sighed. ”Cap, if they circle around and breach the city perimeter—there’s nothing between them and Vision.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Then we keep them in front of us.”

Okoye turned to T’Challa. “How do we do that?”

T’Challa didn’t hesitate. “We open the barrier.”

Before anyone could respond, Nick’s voice crackled to life over the shared channel.

“What the fuck?”

All heads turned.

Nick’s voice was rising — equal parts disbelief and fury. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?! Let’s just throw in a complimentary vibranium gift basket while we’re at it! What’s next, a group tour of Shuri’s lab?”

“Hunter—” T’Challa began.

“No, seriously, I’m curious. Should I engrave a welcome sign that says ‘Alien Invaders: This Way to the City Core’?!”

"Calm down, Honey". Alison said patting him on the shoulder as she past him.

“On my signal,” T’Challa said calmly to his officers. “Open North-West Section Seventeen.”

The Wakandan Officer hesitated. “Requesting confirmation, My King. You said… open the barrier?”

“On my signal.”

M’Baku stepped up beside Okoye, his voice low. “This will be the end of Wakanda.”

Okoye’s eyes did not waver. “Then it will be the noblest ending in history.”

The barrier shimmered — and parted.

“WAKANDA FOREVER!” T’Challa roared, crossing his arms over his chest. His helmet snapped into place as he took off in a full sprint — Steve charging at his side.

The Outriders charged — monstrous, inhuman, ravenous.

Bucky and Sam joined the advance, guns blazing. Bruce, in the Hulkbuster, powered through the earth like a steel juggernaut. Natasha moved like a whip, knives flashing in perfect rhythm. Serena surged into the fray like a shadow wrapped in emerald fire — all instinct, all precision, all fury.

T’Challa’s voice rang over comms: “How much longer, Shuri?”

In her lab, Shuri’s fingers flew across her console.

“We’ve barely begun, brother.”

T’Challa ducked under a claw, kicked off a warrior’s back, and launched into the air.

“You might want to pick up the pace.”

Behind him, Serena sliced through an Outrider mid-leap, spun, and impaled another with a reverse grip. Her face was blank — void of emotion. But her body moved like a storm. Nick had once called her the devil in a green dress.

He was wrong.

She was worse.

And the battlefield was about to find out.

The field was a war drum, pounding and relentless. Smoke curled from broken earth, spears clashed against alien hide, and the air vibrated with the sound of screams, gunfire, and death.

Serena moved like lightning through a river of blood.

Her knives danced in her hands, flashing in clean arcs, slicing through Outrider limbs and throats, and her glocks had never fired more rounds. Her Viper suit clung to her like a second skin, ripped at the sleeve and scorched down the thigh. Sweat burned in her eyes, blood soaked through her gloves, and still she didn’t stop moving.

To her left, Okoye drove her spear through a creature’s mouth and pivoted into a backhand strike that shattered another’s skull. Sam flew overhead, Redwing blasting. Bucky fired in tight, efficient bursts. Natasha spun, deadly and fast, blades flashing like silver wings. Nick was slicing through Outriders with ease, and Alison was firing round after round after round.

And yet — they were losing ground.

The Outriders kept coming.

Endless.

Steve’s shield slammed into an Outrider’s chest, but for every one he knocked back, three more took its place. T’Challa was a blur of claws and fury beside him, but even the Black Panther couldn’t be everywhere at once.

Rhodes flew low overhead, unloading a hail of missiles that momentarily thinned the pack — only for the wave to regroup seconds later.

Sam's tired voice came over the coms. They're circling again! We can’t hold ‘em like this!”

Okoye answered him panting: “We need another line!”

Serena ignored the exchange entirely, as she was currently in deep shit. 

She ducked, rolled, came up slashing. Two Outriders collapsed in twitching heaps — but her momentum skidded to a stop.

A long shadow fell across the battlefield.

Proxima Midnight.

Serena turned, breath sharp, knives raised. Their eyes locked.

“You again,” Proxima growled. “How fortunate.”

Serena’s lips curled. “You’re not going to walk away this time.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

They collided like twin storms.

Blade against spear. Strike for strike. Serena moved with terrifying speed, but Proxima matched her. Every dodge was met with a counter. Every slash was punished.

They carved a space in the chaos — no one else dared get close. The battlefield blurred around them, but Serena was locked in. Pure instinct. Pure fury.

Proxima struck hard, her spear whistling past Serena’s cheek — slicing skin. Blood bloomed.

Serena staggered, just a step — but it was enough.

Proxima lunged, sweeping her legs out. Serena hit the ground hard. Her knife skidded away.

Proxima loomed above her, spear raised.

“This is where it ends, little snake.”

Serena’s eyes burned. She reached for her remaining blade—

But she wasn’t fast enough.

And then —

BOOM.

A beam of searing light cracked through the clouds, crashing into the field like the fist of a god. The earth quaked, knocking Outriders flat. A pulse of lightning spread from the impact point, sending bodies flying in all directions.

The battlefield froze.

Even Proxima paused, eyes flicking skyward.

Something sliced the air with a scream — and Stormbreaker, Thor’s new axe, hurtled through the field like a comet. It carved a blazing arc through dozens of Outriders, electrocuting everything in its path, before snapping back into the waiting hand of its master.

Thor emerged from the smoking crater, eyes glowing electric white. Everyone turned in disbelief, not at the fact that it was Thor, but the fact he brought...things with him

Bruce, watching from inside the hulkbuster, threw his arms in the air and howled with laughter.

“Hah! HAH! You guys are so screwed now!” His voice cracked the sky.

"BRING ME THANOS!!!"

He leapt, launching himself into the air with a shatter of lightning, Stormbreaker raised. Behind him, a raccoon, teeth bared, machine gun blazing, and a small tree, eyes narrowed, his branch-arm morphing into a jagged blade.

Outriders scrambled. Wakandan soldiers roared.

The entire field shifted. Morale reignited like dry grass in a wildfire.

Serena was still struggling on the ground, Proxima a couple feet behind her, still on the ground as well. Serena struggled, she glanced up, seeing Steve exchange a conversation with Thor in the middle of the fight about a yard away.

"New haircut?" She heard Steve ask.

Thor gestured to Steve. "Notice you've copied my beard. Oh by the way, this is a friend of mine, Tree."

The tree then said: "I am Groot."

Steve then pointed to himself and said: "I am Steve Rogers."

Serena let out a huff, before she glanced down to see that she had blood trickling out of her right shoulder. She felt tired. She felt like it was over for them.

There were too many of them, and they were greatly outnumbered.

"Pierce?" A voice said over the coms. "Pierce, can you hear me?"

She squinted in confusion and groaned.

"C'mon Kid, get your ass up. I waisted good time and money on you to not be lounging around." The voice said again, and that's when she realized who it was.

"Fury?" She practically whispered.

Location: New York City - S.H.I.E.L.D Outpost

A dim bunker beneath Manhattan buzzed with a dozen screens, maps tracking interstellar movement, and feeds from the Wakandan battlefield. Cameron Klein tapped rapidly at a console, adjusting satellite frequencies.

Fury stood front and center, headset on, eyes glued to the real-time drone cam hovering over Sector Seventeen.

“Encrypted comms, channel V. Only she can hear us,” Klein confirmed.

Next to Fury, Maria adjusted her earpiece while Felicita - in a crisp white suit — stood with arms folded and a look that could peel paint.

“My daughter is not dying in a vibranium jungle,” Felicita said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t let her crawl out of Russian black sites and SHADOW program hell just to die in Wakanda.”

Fury smirked faintly. “She’s not dying. She’s just taking a breath. I'll kill her myself if she dies.”

He then leaned back into the coms.

Fury: “Look around you, kid. That field’s burning. Your friends are bleeding. But you? You’re still breathing. You know what that means?”

No answer.

Fury’s voice dropped.

“It means you’re not done yet.”

Serena blinked, her hand curling into a fist in the dirt. Proxima was closing in.

Fury (in her ear): “I know what you’re thinking. You’re tired. You’re cut. You’ve given all you’ve got. But that voice in your head saying you can’t? That ain’t you. That’s the damn static.”

A breath.

“Now clear the channel. And lock the fuck in.”

Another voice filtered in.

Hill: “Ser, it’s time.”

Serena flinched. “Wait… what do you mean ‘time’?”

A click came through her earpiece. A soft synth hum.

Then the bass dropped.

Beyoncé’s “Freedom” exploded into her private feed.

Serena blinked — stunned — then let out a half-choked laugh.

Maria’s voice cut in, warm and wicked.

“C’mon, Twisted Sister. Show ‘em how twisted you can get.”

A beat passed. Silence occured as Proxima hissed and looked back toward her, ready to resume the kill—

Only Serena wasn’t there.

A blur of green and black exploded across the battlefield, crashing into Proxima’s side like a missile. The alien warrior was slammed into the dirt, spear flying from her grip.

Serena landed hard, eyes burning, face streaked with blood and dust. “Round two, bitch.”

Back in New York, a small smile came onto Felicita's face, making Maria look at her in disbelief, as in all the years she knew Serena's mother, she only saw her smile a handful of times.

"C'est ma fille (That's my daughter)." Felicita murmured, crossing her arms.

Wakanda

Proxima roared and slashed upward with a plasma blade—Serena dodged, ducked, spun low, then drove a knee into her ribs. The sound of cracking bone split the air.

“Not so smug now, huh?” Serena hissed.

The music blared in her ear — Beyoncé's voice syncing with the tempo of her heartbeat. "I'ma keep runnin', 'cause a winner don't quit on themselves."

Proxima charged again. Serena caught her spear mid-thrust, twisted, yanked — snapped it clean in two. She used the jagged end like a dagger, plunging it straight into Proxima’s thigh.

The alien screamed, and her shockingly blue blood splattered onto Serena's green viper suit.

Thunder rumbled nearby. Stormbreaker cleaved through the sky, and the battlefield was awash in fire and fury. She heard Steve shout 'Somebody get to Vision!' But Serena? She was laser-focused.

“Lock in,” she whispered to herself.

She kneed Proxima again. Elbowed her in the jaw. Slammed her to the ground.

Then stood tall over her.

“Stay down. Or I’ll show you just how twisted I really am.”

Proxima tried to rise.

Serena didn’t hesitate. She slammed her foot into the alien’s chest and drove her back into the dirt.

"You won't win." Proxima croaked. "He's too powerful."

"Maybe...but you're not." Serena practically whispered, before slitting the alien's throat.

The blue blood splattered all over Serena. She was finally dead. She took a deep breath before stepping off the woman laying before her. Just as she looked up, she saw Natasha and Wanda standing there in shock.

"You good?" Natasha asked hesitantly.

Serena shrugged. "Yeah...you?"

"Good." Wanda replied and Natasha nodded.

"You got a little..."Natasha began gesturing to the blue blood all over Serena.

Serena looked down and frowned. "Yeah I know...I really need to dry clean this thing." 

 

Notes:

Thanos is almost here! As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or ideas.

Fill free to make predictions!

Chapter 49: Chapter 49

Location: Wakanda

"Are they gone?" Serena asked with hesitation, as she and Natasha made their way deep into the jungle. Wanda had already gone ahead of them to ensure Vision was alright, whereas Natasha ensured that Serena was alright after going head-to-head with Proxima Midnight.

"At least for now." Natasha murmured.

As they made their way into the jungle with their weapons drawn, all that Serena heard was a voice shouting. It might've been the pain, the blood residue, or the amount of bombs going off in the distance that made her not recognize the voice, but no sooner she laid eyes on the scene before her, it took a couple seconds to register what was happening.

The voice was Steve's, as he was shouting to protect vision.

The problem?

Steve was doing hand-to-hand combat against Corvus Glaive...who was...at least in Serena's opinion, roughly around the size of bruce's Hulkbuster. Just as she reached for one of her knives, Glaive threw Steve about 30 feet and into a tree on the ground, and no sooner she saw it occur, she broke out into a sprint for Steve.

Glaive hadn't even noticed Serena sprinting towards him, as he was too busy choking the life out of Steve, but before Serena was able to reach him, Glaive was shanked by Vision, lifted up to die, then discarded away like a piece of trash.

Vision, full of exhaustion, practically collapsed, but Steve caught him before he could do so. 

"I thought I told you to go." Steve warned giving Vision a pointed look.

"We don't trade lives, Captain." Vision answered weakly, eyeing Steve before he looked to Wanda and Serena who came into view, even though the dust barely settled.

Serena's chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate heaves. Her knives dangled from one hand, bloodied. Her other hand was balled into a fist at her side.

Her Viper suit, already battle-torn, was now soaked — not with her blood, but with Proxima’s.

The alien’s thick blue ichor streaked across Serena’s jaw, staining her collar, dripping down her shoulder like war paint. One side of her face had a cut across the brow, bleeding into her lashes. But her eyes... her eyes were sharp. Focused. Not wild — but awake. Alive.

Steve approached carefully, gaze searching hers.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

Serena looked at him, blinked once.

Then she exhaled, a slow breath that trembled just slightly at the end. “Yeah. I just... needed the noise to stop.”

“She won’t be getting up again?” He asked quietly.

Serena wiped her blade clean on her thigh. “She made it personal.”

Steve stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm — then pulling back slightly at the slick touch of blood. He held up his palm, now streaked with alien blue.

“I see that,” he said softly.

Serena gave a humorless smile. “She had it coming.”

She started to move past him — but he reached out, gently turning her back toward him by the elbow.

“Hey.”

She paused.

His thumb brushed a smear of blood from her cheek, slow and deliberate, as if grounding her.

“You’re still you,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah. Still me. Just messier.”

There was a rumble behind them — faint, distant, but unmistakable. The kind that didn’t just shake the ground, but shifted it. Like something impossibly heavy had just landed where it wasn’t meant to.

Steve looked toward the sound. His jaw clenched.

Rhodey’s voice came over the comms, static-laced and urgent. “Cap. Something just breached the upper atmosphere. Big. Real big. And it didn’t come from the forest.”

“Where is it?” Steve asked, stepping beside Serena.

“Eastern ridge,” Sam responded. “And Cap... it’s walking.”

Thunder cracked — but this wasn’t Thor.

This was colder.

Slower.

Heavier.

A sudden, eerie silence fell across the field. Even the wounded stopped groaning. Even the smoke seemed to still.

Then, from the top of the hill overlooking the edge of the dome, Vision’s voice rang out — low, mechanical, final.

His voice was quiet. Almost reverent.

“He’s here.”

Serena turned toward the horizon.

The smoke parted like a curtain, pulled by some invisible, malevolent force. The sky dimmed, as if the sun itself was shrinking back, reluctant to bear witness.

And then she saw him.

Thanos.

"Cap." Bruce explained. "That's him."

He walked through the ruin of the forest, each step leaving a crater in the earth. The golden armor across his chest gleamed, but it wasn’t bright — it was dull, like something buried with a corpse. His skin was the color of bruised dusk, thick and calloused. And in his massive left hand... the Infinity Gauntlet.

It glowed.

Alive.

Breathing.

Each stone pulsed with its own sick light — like tiny, beating hearts stitched to metal. Serena’s eyes locked on the gauntlet, and a spike of dread crawled up her spine.

But it wasn’t the gauntlet that froze her.

It was him.

She had seen dead children in Aleppo. She had stood in a burned village in Myanmar and counted the bones. She had stared down warlords, laughed in the face of traffickers, held her father's lifeless body as the life left his eyes. She had torn through killer robots in Sokovia, had survived HYDRA interrogations, black site experiments, and that goddamn cold room in Bucharest.

But this?

This was something else.

This wasn’t war.

This wasn’t evil.

This was inevitability.

She felt like she was underwater, her lungs squeezing, her limbs resisting movement. Her brain told her to run, but her body wouldn't respond.

Beside her, the world snapped into motion. Steve shifted his weight, shield rising. His eyes were locked on Thanos, jaw clenched.

"Eyes up." Steve ordered. "Stay sharp."

Steve then glanced toward Serena, whom he saw locked in a trance, almost in disbelief at the sight before her.

"Ser," he said, voice low, firm.

She blinked.

His hand brushed her wrist. “With me.”

And just like that — she moved.

She didn’t think. She didn’t speak. She followed.

They ran toward the ridge, Steve at the front, Serena at his side. Behind them, the rest of the strike team began to fan out — Nick loaded a fresh magazine, Bucky racked his rifle, Bruce moved in the Hulkbuster with a metallic growl. Okoye and T’Challa called their warriors to formation. Sam soared overhead, Alison snapped on her rifle scope, and Natasha rolled her shoulders with a quiet breath of steel.

No one said anything.

They didn’t need to.

Wanda stayed behind, trembling at Vision’s side, her fingers laced with his, her power flickering like wildfire between them. Shuri crouched low at her console, furiously rerouting power. The world’s last defense.

And then —

Thanos crested the hill.

He stood still for a moment, surveying the wreckage of the field like a man admiring his soon-to-be inheritance.

His eyes met Serena’s — just for a second.

It was enough.

The world fell away. Her knees weakened. Her throat tightened. She felt something primal crawl through her: a tiny, screaming voice that whispered you can’t win.

And then Steve moved.

Straight at Thanos.

His shield raised.

His face unreadable.

And everyone — every last one of them — followed.

Even Serena, trembling and alive, knives drawn once more, throat raw, heart screaming.

They were outnumbered. Outpowered. Out of time.

But they ran anyway.

Because if the world was ending, they were going to meet it standing.

The battlefield quaked beneath their feet as Steve Rogers charged forward, shield braced, unyielding.

Thanos didn’t flinch.

The Mad Titan raised his gauntleted hand — slow, deliberate — but Steve was already there, ducking under the first swing, driving his shield into Thanos's side. It clanged off his armor like a pebble against a mountain, but Steve kept moving. Hook, elbow, shoulder slam — he threw every ounce of strength, training, and desperation into the blows.

Thanos absorbed them all.

With a grunt, Thanos reached out.

Steve pivoted and landed a hit to the Titan’s jaw that would’ve broken a normal man’s skull. But it only turned Thanos's head slightly.

The next moment, the gauntlet moved.

A vicious backhand sent Steve flying. His shield flew off into the dirt. His body crashed into the ground with a sickening thud, skidding across cracked earth and splattered alien blood. He didn’t get back up.

"STEVE!"

Serena screamed.

She was at his side in an instant, knees hitting the blood-soaked soil. Her gloves trembled as she pressed them to his face, fingers brushing back his hair, eyes wide with panic.

"Steve—hey—hey, look at me. Look at me!"

Nothing.

He was breathing, but barely. Bruised. Broken.

She cupped his cheek, throat tightening. "You promised me a wedding, you asshole,” she choked out, half laughing, half crying. “You don't get to check out now."

Behind her, the sound shifted.

A low hum.

Not of war — but of magic.

Too late, she realized what it was.

The Reality Stone.

She turned—

And the world melted.

Warm sunlight spilled across the wooden floors. Soft jazz played from an old speaker in the corner. A kettle whistled gently on the stove.

Serena blinked.

She was in her living room. In her old D.C. apartment, from her S.H.I.E.L.D days. A worn but clean armchair in the corner, books stacked in lazy piles. The scent of pancakes and coffee lingered.

And she was... barefoot.

In a long silk robe. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach — round and full beneath her palm.

She gasped.

Pregnant.

Heavily.

She turned slowly as footsteps approached.

Steve entered from the hallway, in a plain grey t-shirt and flannel pants, carrying a plate in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Morning,” he said, smiling like the world was intact. “You were out cold.”

Serena stared, wide-eyed, heart pounding.

“You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “You had a nightmare.”

“I—”

She couldn’t breathe. She reached for the wall. “The war. Thanos. The gauntlet—"

Steve chuckled softly. “Honey, you haven’t talked about that stuff in months. It was just a dream.”

She blinked rapidly. “No. No, this... this isn’t—"

He crossed to her, setting the food down, and wrapped his arms gently around her.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, placing a hand on her stomach. “We’re safe. It's just us now.”

She hesitated — his touch was warm. His scent was real.

It felt real.

But then —

Her eyes caught something on the mantle.

A photo.

She stepped out of his arms and picked it up.

It was her and Steve — on their wedding day.

But in the photo, flanking them…

Her mother, Felicita.

And her father.

Alive. Smiling. Hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Serena stared.

The blood drained from her face.

Her father — the man she killed in D.C. The man who orchestrated the deaths of thousands. Who betrayed SHIELD. Who died with a bullet through his heart as the Triskelion fell in flames.

This wasn’t possible.

This was a lie.

“No,” she whispered. “No no no no—this isn’t real. This isn’t real!”

The photo shook in her grip. The walls around her flickered — then shivered. The jazz slowed, distorted. Steve's voice grew hollow.

“Stay,” he said softly. “Stay here with me.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re not him. He would never ask me to stop fighting.”

The light dimmed.

And with a sound like shattering glass, the world collapsed.

Serena shot upright with a strangled gasp.

She was on the ground. Dirt in her mouth. Blood on her hands. Her knives — gone.

Steve was up now, swaying, bruised, but conscious — and in front of her.

And beyond him—

Thanos.

The Titan was only steps from Vision.

The Mind Stone shimmered in the android’s forehead, flickering as Wanda wept at his side, power pulsing in her palms. Vision reached for her with trembling fingers.

Serena’s heart dropped.

She scrambled to her feet, dizzy, shaking. “Steve!”

He turned just enough to meet her eyes.

And then—

Thanos raised the gauntlet.

Vision screamed.

And Serena ran.

It was too late, no sooner the stone was ripped from Visions forehead, his body turned the silver color of vibrainium, and collapsed to the ground. Wanda in response mourned over his body, feeling everything she ever loved be taken from her.

Thanos in response placed the mind stone onto the gauntlet, before touching Wanda gently.

"I understand my child, better than anyone." Thanos began calmly.

"You could never." Wanda practically snarled.

"Today I lost more than you know." He continued. "But now is no time to mourn. Now is no time at all."

Serena stood in horror, as light and power flowed through the monster who was fully prepared to take everything from them. Just as she was about to intervene, a massive bolt of lightening grounded Thanos far away from Wanda, as Thor blasted him before heaving Stormbreaker toward him. In response, Thanos blasted back with the gauntlet. 

When the light from both sides of the attack subsided, Serena was able to see Stormbreaker embedded within Thanos's chest, and when Thor pressed it in further, Thanos screamed in pain. Thor held Thanos's head to look the monster in the eyes as he faded away.

But that's when it happened.

"You should've gone for the head." Thanos murmured.

Thanos then snapped his fingers within the gauntlet, causing Thor to cry out. A blinding light came over everyone, and once everyone's eyes adjusted, all they could see was a disintegrated infinity gauntlet. Serena locked eyes with Steve as they both looked around in confusion.

"Where did he go?" Steve asked as he walked towards Thor. "Thor? Where did he go?"

"Steve." Serena began, but something in the distance caught her eyes.

Steve immediately turned around and his eyes widened in shock.

Bucky, beginning to turn to ash.

"Steve." Was all he was able to muster before turning to ash.

Nick, who was helping T'Challa up off the ground, started to feel his adopted brother begin to fade away as well.

"Brother?" Nick asked with a frown, and just as T'Challa opened his mouth to reply, he turned to ash.

"Hezvo?" Okoye asked in disbelief as she shared a glance with Nick.

"I am Groot." Groot murmured, before he slowly disintegrated.

"No." Rocket began. "No, no, No! Groot...no."

Wanda, who was still mourning over vision's dead body, also turned to ash, as did Sam. Rhodey and Alison, who were both searching for Sam had only missed him by a few seconds.

"Sam?" Sam? Where you at?" Rhodey called.

"Wilson come in!" Alison shouted.

But they were too late.

"Oh god." Was all Serena could say.

It had happened.

Thanos had won. 

And for the first time in a very long time.

They lost.

 

Notes:

I DIDN'T DUST SERENA!
Next chapter though...will show the effects on who in her life got dusted.
As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, or predictions.

Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Location: Wakanda – Royal Palace

One Hour After the Snap

The golden sun that once bathed Wakanda in brilliance had dimmed, hidden behind heavy clouds as if mourning. The walk back to the palace was quiet — no victory cries, no celebratory roars. Only the soft tread of boots over scorched soil, and the occasional sob from the wounded or the left behind.

The doors to the throne room groaned as they opened.

It was too quiet.

The ornate halls that once buzzed with engineers, diplomats, Dora Milaje, and advisors were nearly empty. Where there should have been a bustling crowd, there were only scattered remnants — dropped tablets, overturned water vessels, an abandoned sandal beside the stairwell. Ayo’s spear leaned against the wall, untouched.

Okoye stopped mid-step, her chest tightening. Her eyes swept the room like she’d missed something — anything — but she hadn’t.

Queen Ramonda stood at the center of the throne platform, hands clenched at her sides. M’Baku stood beside her, jaw set like stone. Both were unharmed — but changed. Grief clung to their faces like ash.

Okoye turned slowly. “Where is everyone?”

No one answered.

Rhodey’s voice was the first to crack. “This… this isn’t right.”

Serena stopped just inside the palace, Steve beside her. She scanned the room. The front guard. The engineers. The councilors. Ayo. Shuri.

Gone.

Then her eyes fell to the empty corner near the throne. A spot she always passed. A spot that was never really empty.

Her heart dropped.

“No…” she whispered. “No, no, no…”

She broke into a sprint, boots echoing down the hallways as she turned a sharp corner, past Shuri’s lab, past the war room, down into the servants’ quarters. She burst into one of the modest housing rooms — a blanket tossed aside, a water bowl still half-full.

The leash still hung on the hook.

But Molly, her golden retriever — her one constant companion since Langley, since Bucharest, since all the blood and ruin — was gone.

Not dead.

Gone.

As if she’d never existed at all.

Serena dropped to her knees beside the bowl.

“God, no…”

Nick was already back in the main chamber, pacing, voice raised. “Langley secure line — now!” he barked to the tech who was still present, stunned and pale. “Secure satlink to Director Felicita Pierce, priority red.”

The tech's hands flew across the controls. “Trying, sir.”

Serena stormed back in, her face streaked with tears, her mouth tight.

“Call her personal. Try her burner. Try her second secure line. Code Sigma-Black. Priority double-red.”

Nick grabbed his own comm. “Mom? Mom, if you hear this — respond. We’re alive. Serena’s alive. Just give me something.”

Silence.

“Try Val,” Serena snapped.

The tech nodded. “Patching through to Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine’s line…”

Nothing.

Nick stared at the console like it had betrayed him. “This doesn’t make sense. She’s never offline. Ever.”

Serena slumped into a chair, numb. “They’re gone too.”

Bruce and Thor entered quietly from the war balcony. Bruce’s armor was dented and scorched. Thor’s eyes were duller than usual, as if something inside him had flickered out.

“I warned them,” Thor said, voice low and hoarse. “On the ship… he told us.”

Bruce nodded grimly. “He said it would be random. He said… perfectly balanced. As all things should be.”

“And then he killed everyone on the Statesman,” Thor added. “Half my people — gone. Heimdall. Loki. They didn’t even stand a chance.”

Rocket leaned against the frame of the doorway, face unreadable. “Well, shit. Guess he wasn’t bluffing.”

Rhodey crossed his arms, trying to make sense of it all. “Half the palace staff. Half the army. Hell, even the cleaning crew — I haven’t seen the guy who brings me mango slices since we landed.”

Serena’s hands were shaking. “This can’t be real. This can’t be real…”

Okoye said nothing — she just stared at the empty halls as if willing them to repopulate through sheer force of will.

“Try Ross,” Serena muttered suddenly. “Everett Ross. He’ll know. He’ll—”

The tech patched in. “Channel open.”

“Everett?” Serena barked into the receiver. “Everett, it’s Serena. Come in.”

A crackle — then a voice. “Serena?” Ross sounded breathless. “Is it real? Is this real?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. Where are you?”

“Joint task base. D.C. Half the team… they just… they were there. And then they weren’t. Serena, we’re getting mass reports across every agency. This wasn’t isolated. It’s global. Satellites are picking up the same events in Paris, Tokyo, Cape Town—”

She gripped the edge of the console. “And my mother?”

There was a pause.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Everett said. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, then closed the line.

Nick was pacing again, trying to connect to Fury. “Come on, old man, pick up…”

Nothing.

Across from him, Serena was now attempting to try and reach Maria.

“Come on, Maria,” she muttered. “Come on.”

Still nothing.

Alison stood near the console, watching Serena from across the room, then pulled out her phone and hit a different number.

“Lewis?” she asked, voice hopeful.

“Ali?” Lewis’s voice buzzed through. “What the hell is happening?”

“You’re alive,” she breathed.

“Yeah, barely. Cars started swerving during qualifying. Like... the drivers just disappeared. Seb’s car hit the wall. Daniel’s disappeared mid-turn. I nearly crashed.”

Alison covered her mouth.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Lewis said. “But everyone’s freaking out.”

“I’ll explain later,” she whispered. “Just—stay safe. Please.”

“I will. But tell S and Nick—tell 'em I’m not going anywhere.”

Alison nodded. “They need that.”

She hung up and turned toward Serena — who was now visibly shaking.

“Serena…”

Serena’s chest was rising and falling too fast, her hands pressed against her mouth. “Molly. My mom. Val. Maria… my goddamn dog—”

Steve stepped in fast, crouching in front of her, his hands gently bracing her forearms.

“Hey—Serena. Hey. Breathe with me. In.”

She tried — but it caught in her throat.

“In,” he repeated softly. “Look at me.”

She locked eyes with him, eyes wild and soaked.

“In. One. Two. Three. Hold it. Let it go…”

She mirrored his breath, shallow at first, then steadier.

“You’re safe right now,” he said, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m here. We all are.”

Her voice cracked. “But for how long?”

He didn’t have an answer.

So he held her instead.

And all around them, the strongest people in the world stood among ashes — mourning what had been lost.

Night fell over Wakanda like a shroud.

Queen Ramonda sat on the throne, her back straight despite the weight of a broken world. Okoye flanked her side. M’Baku stood behind, silent.

The survivors stood before her. Huddled. Tired. Hollowed out.

No one knew what came next.

But for now, all they could do was survive the silence.

And bury the dead.

2 Weeks Later

Location: Upstate New York – Avengers Compound

The quinjet touched down with a heavy exhale of hydraulics. The landing pad was quiet — too quiet. No greeting party. No mechanical hum of security bots or automated scans. No Friday, no Stark, no sarcasm laced through invisible speakers.

Just silence.

As the ramp lowered, a breeze rolled in from the north, cool and sharp, rustling the grass around the pad and carrying the scent of rain. The compound stood ahead, looming and still. Its windows reflected a dying sunset, but behind the glass, there was nothing.

Serena stood at the edge of the ramp and stared.

It was eerie.

Not just quiet — wrong.

The last time she was here, it had been 2016. And she’d been yelling at Tony Stark, standing in the war room with a voice full of betrayal and eyes full of fire. She had called him a coward. Told him he didn’t deserve to call himself a leader.

Now he was gone.

Everyone was.

And the halls were empty.

She stepped off the jet.

Steve followed close behind, his jaw tight. Natasha and Rhodey flanked them, silent. Nick and Alison trailed together, Nick’s eyes sweeping the compound like it might still be a trap. Bruce carried a duffel over one shoulder. Thor lumbered in behind them with Rocket perched on his back, munching on a power bar like he wasn’t still grieving.

Okoye and Queen Ramonda remained in Wakanda, with M’Baku assuming temporary command of defense units.

This group — bruised, barely recovered — was what was left of Earth’s mightiest.

Serena’s boots echoed on the metal ramp. She walked forward slowly, her steps slowing the closer she got.

Something pulled at her — muscle memory, nostalgia, dread. When she reached the main lobby and the retinal scan greeted her, a soft blue light blinked.

Welcome, Agent Serena Alexandra de Fontaine Pierce.
Last login: May 13, 2016.

The door slid open.

The air inside was stale.

Twenty Minutes Later — Lower Levels

Serena wandered, lost in thought, tracing familiar halls. Steve had gone to check the secure comm lines. Natasha had moved to the weapons vault. Bruce was trying to reactivate the mainframe. Everyone needed purpose.

She didn’t.

She just walked.

Eventually, she found it.

Her old office.

The nameplate still said “Serena Pierce - CIA Liason” in brushed steel.

The door creaked open with effort. The lights flickered on.

Nothing had changed.

The coat she left on the back of her chair still hung there. A framed photo of her and Nick from Langley was still on the desk. Memos half-written. Coffee mug — CIA-issued, chipped on the rim — half-full with now-mummified sludge.

It was as if she’d stepped out for lunch.

And never returned.

She stepped inside and lowered herself into the chair. It didn’t feel right.

It felt like a grave.

Across the compound, Steve stood silently in their shared apartment, taking in the untouched space. Their bed still made. A book Serena had been reading in 2016 — spine cracked, page folded — still on the nightstand.

Ghosts.

That’s what this place was now.

Just ghosts.

1 Hour Later

Bruce set the final system panel of the common room into place and exhaled. “Okay, central power is back online. Still no AI. Friday’s offline, and no trace of Stark’s last known location.”

“Where is Tony?” Serena asked.

Bruce looked up. “Gone. Last I saw, he was on a flying donut with a kid and... a Bleaker Street magician.”

Thor’s voice rumbled behind him. “Sorcerer Supreme.”

Bruce blinked. “Right. That.”

Thor dropped heavily into a chair, cape dragging. “Strange. His name is Strange. And I saw him plucked right off that ship.”

Nick snorted. “Great. Talking trees, wizards, and a talking raccoon. What’s next? Centaurs are real now?”

Rocket’s ears twitched. He froze mid-chew. “What did you just call me?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “What? You’re a raccoon. You got a tail and stripes and little paws. That’s literally what you are, you dumbass.”

Rocket launched off Thor’s shoulder and stomped toward Nick, teeth bared. “Say that again, Pretty Boy!”

Nick didn’t flinch. “Raccoon.”

Before Rocket could leap at him, Alison stepped between them with a tired sigh. “Nick. Stop antagonizing the homicidal space rodent. Rocket. He’s grieving. Don’t shoot him — yet.”

Rocket huffed and folded his arms. “Fine. But he’s on thin ice.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Just sayin’... if it waddles and raids trash, it's a raccoon.”

Suddenly—

A golden portal split open mid-air.

Sparks rained in a perfect circle.

“OH HELL—” Rhodey shouted, spinning and aiming his wrist cannon.

Nick instinctively dropped into a stance, one hand reaching for a blade. “What now?!”

From the swirling light stepped a calm figure in yellow and red robes, hands behind his back.

“I’m Wong,” he said evenly. “Librarian of Kamar-Taj. Master of the Mystic Arts.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nick muttered.

“Not quite,” Wong replied without blinking. “Though I understand the confusion.”

Thor gave a slow nod. “Ah. Yes. You were with Strange when we met Hela’s flame hounds.”

“You’re welcome,” Wong replied dryly.

Natasha and Serena shared a long look across the room.

Serena mouthed: What the hell?

Natasha shook her head: No clue.

Steve, leaning against the frame of the door, simply exhaled through his nose and muttered, “I don’t even know anymore.”

Wong continued calmly, “I’m here to inform you that the Sanctum Sanctorum is still secure. We are monitoring multiversal activity for anomalies tied to the Snap. Strange... did not survive. But I am carrying out his final orders to maintain stability.”

Bruce stepped forward. “You’re saying this could be... unstable?”

Wong looked at him flatly. “The universe just lost half of its mass. Reality is more than unstable. It’s hemorrhaging.”

Rocket sat back on the edge of the console, tail flicking. “Cool. So the dumpster fire’s also a black hole. Love that.”

Wong gave a half-bow. “I will stay in contact. But I must return to New York. If you need me, use this.” He handed Steve a small bronze disk. “Place it on the ground. Say my name.”

Then — with another flash of sparks — he was gone.

Rhodey blinked. “Nope. Still not used to that.”

Nick ran a hand down his face. “Wizards.”

One Week Later

One week had passed since Wakanda became the temporary stronghold for the broken and grieving. The dust had settled — literally and figuratively — but nothing felt whole. Not in Wakanda. Not in the world. Not within any of them.

The skies were quieter now, eerily so.

Serena stood in front of the mirror in the compound’s bathroom, her fingers running through her newly darkened hair — the deep chocolate brown of her natural roots replacing the jet black color she'd worn for the last two years on the run. A small act of reclamation. Or maybe just an attempt to return to who she was before everything went to hell.

In the mirror’s reflection, she watched Steve behind her. He had just finished shaving. His beard was gone, his hair cropped neatly. He looked… younger. Familiar. Almost like the man she met on that morning jog in D.C., chasing after Molly through the cherry blossoms.

She turned around and looked at him with a soft smirk. “You know,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “you look a lot like the guy who helped me chase my dog around the National Mall a few years ago.”

Steve chuckled, the warmth reaching his eyes for the first time in days. “Yeah, I remember her dragging you halfway to the Lincoln Memorial. I just followed the barking.”

“God, she was fast,” Serena said, the ache returning at the memory. “She loved that stupid duck plush I had in my bag. It squeaked like hell.”

Steve’s smile faded into something gentler. He stepped closer. “She was a good girl.”

Serena nodded, her throat tightening. “The best.”

They didn’t speak after that. The silence said more than words could.

Suddenly — the mirror trembled.

Subtle at first. A slight rattle in the wall.

Then the shaking worsened — the mirror clattered against its bolts.

Steve’s eyes widened.

Outside, the others were already running out to investigate. Natasha, Bruce, and Rhodey came to a stop beside Steve and Serena as a low roar echoed from above.

A spacecraft descended — battered, scraped, but intact. The Benatar. Held by a glowing figure blazing with energy — Carol Danvers.

Landing gear hissed. The ramp creaked open.

Tony stumbled out first, frail and sunken, barely upright. Nebula supported him.

Steve rushed forward instinctively, catching Tony as he nearly stumbled. The older man clutched his arm with a trembling grip.

"I couldn't stop him." Tony blurted out.

"Neither could I." Steve sighed.

"I lost the kid." Tony began in a voice almost like he was ready to cry.

"Tony, we lost." Steve said softly.

Tony’s voice wavered, like he was afraid to ask what came next. Before he could finish, Pepper, who had been staying at the compound the last week to see if there had been any signs of Tony, had tears already falling, as she wrapped him in a fierce embrace.

Rocket sat quietly beside Nebula, offering a hand. The cyborg accepted, fingers curling around his silently.

Inside, time passed like slow thunder. They gathered in the common room, Tony hooked to IVs, his face a tapestry of exhaustion and guilt. A holographic casualty list scrolled across the table’s projection screen.

"It's been 23 days since Thanos came to Earth." Rhodey began, crossing his arms.

"World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still functioning are trying to take a census." Natasha added. "And it looks like he did it. He wiped out fifty percent… of all living creatures.”

"Where is he now?" Tony asked tiredly. "Where?"

Serena shrugged. "We don't know."

"He just...opened a portal and walked through." Steve nodded in agreement.

Thor sat off to the side, his eyes darkened, his shoulders sagging under failure.

"What's wrong with him?" Tony asked.

"Oh, he's pissed." Rocket explained. "Thinks he failed. Which he did...but hey, that's going around, isn't it?"

Tony's gaze turned toward Rocket.

“Honestly, until this second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

Rocket shrugged. "Maybe I am."

Steve stood, stepping forward with cautious hope.

“We’ve been scanning the stars for weeks. Satellites, deep space recon… nothing." He began. "Tony, you fought him. Anything?”

Tony made a loud noise, almost like a half-laugh that made Serena snap her head towards him.

"Fought?" Tony asked with sarcasm. "No. He threw a moon at me. That was the fight. Bleeker Street’s magician gave up the Time Stone like it was candy.”

"Did he say where he was going?" Serena asked cautiously.

"Oh shut up, Barbie." Tony snapped. "I don't want to hear your Langley bullshit. You're not one of us, you'll never be one of us."

Serena's eyes narrowed in disbelief, and just as she was about to step forward, Natasha grabbed her wrist to hold her back.

"Had a vision years ago." Tony continued. "Didn't believe it. Should've."

"Tony, I need you to focus-"Steve began, trying to stay calm.

But Tony’s restraint shattered. He stood, rage boiling.

“No. I needed you, Cap. And you weren’t there.” Tony began, his eyes full of rage as he shoved things off the table. "You know what I need? I need a shave, and a burger, not a bowl of soup. And I believe I remember telling all of you, alive and otherwise that we needed a suit of armor around the world, whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not."

"That didn't work." Steve began.

"I said we'd lose. You said we'd do that together. But guess what, Cap? We lost! And you weren't there. But that's what we do right? Our best work after the fact? We're the 'Avengers', not the 'Pre-vengers'."

Rhodey stepped in to calm him.

"Tony take it easy." Rhodey warned.

"I like you." Tony began pointing to Carol, who frowned in confusion. "We need new blood, we need to replace all these old timers, starting with her!"

He began pointing to Serena, who raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

"For all we know, she's one of those idiots that came with Thanos." He continued. "I don't like her, I never liked her, I'm not gonna like her. I've got nothing for you Cap. No coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero, zip, nada. No trust."

He then ripped out his nanotech arc reactor and placed it in Steve's hand.

"Here." He began in anger. "You take this. You find him, you put this on, and hide."

He then collapsed into Steve's arms moments later. After getting him to a room in the infirmary, Pepper ended up staying with him, along with Bruce.

"Bruce gave him a sedative." Rhodey explained. "Should be out for the rest of the day."

"Take care of him." Carol explained already walking away. "When I come back, I'll bring a bottle of Xorrian elixir."

"Where're you going?" Serena asked with a frown.

"To kill Thanos." Carol said rather bluntly.

"Hey, hey, hang on. We're sort of a team here. Between you and me, morale's a little fragile." Natasha explained.

"Oh I'm sorry. My fault." Carol began before turning completely to sarcasm. "All right, team! I'm going to kill Thanos! Message me if you get any intel that can help. Otherwise, I'll report back when he's dead. Great work, everybody."

"Look, we realize that up there is your turf, but this is our fight too.” Steve countered.

"You don't even know where he is." Carol replied in slight annoyance.

"I do." Nebula quietly interjected. "He called it...'The Garden'. He always said that when he finished, he'd rest there."

"You're saying Thanos had a retirement plan?" Rhodey asked in disbelief.

Steve  frowned. "Where's this garden?"

Rocket tapped into a display, showing a strange planet.

"When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power surge of ridiculously cosmic proportions. No one's seen anything like it. Until two days ago." Rocket explained.

Natasha frowned. "You're saying he snapped his fingers again?"

"The planet is unamed, but inhabitable." Nebula continued. "Rich atmosphere, good soil-"

"A garden." Serena blurted out.

"Thanos is there." Bruce interjected as he entered the room. "And he just used the stones."

At that, Thor finally lifted his head up.

"You know we'd be going short-handed." Bruce murmured to himself.

"Because he killed all our friends?" Rhodey countered.

Rocket scoffed. "Are we saying they're dead? We're using that word now?"

Rhodey shrugged. "He's still got the stones."

"So we take them." Carol suggested. "And we use them to bring everybody back."

"Just like that?" Bruce frowned in confusion.

"Yeah." Steve nodded. "Just like that."

Silence fell over them. Part of it shock, part of it uncertainty.

"If there's even the smallest chance we can undo this, then we owe it to everyone who's not sitting here to try." Natasha explained.

"If we do this...why would it end any differently than it did before?" Bruce questioned.

"The probability of us succeeding is currently at a 50/50 shot." Serena explained in agreement.

"Because before you didn't have me." Carol countered.

Serena's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." She countered. 

"Hey, new girl." Rhodey began. "All of us in here are about that superhero life. Where've you been all this time?"

"Fury said he'd call when he needed me." She began.

"You know Fury?" Serena and Natasha asked in slight disbelief.

"Yes, and there's a lot of people in the universe. And they didn't all have you." Carol explained.

Thor, finally stood up, and crosses to stand in front of Carol. He held out his hand, allowing for Stormbreaker to whip past her head, ruffling her hair, and into his hand. Carol didn't even flinch, but Thor simply smiled.

"I like this one." He said with a nod of approval.

Steve turned, glanced at Serena. She nodded back, fire behind her tired eyes.

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

 

Notes:

We're in the Endgame now!

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, predictions, or ideas.

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Present Day

Location: Space - Earth's Outer-Atmosphere

The ship's engines purred like a distant thunderstorm, rumbling steady beneath the soles of their boots. The Benatar was warm in the way a warship shouldn't be — claustrophobic, full of recycled air, dim red lighting casting stark shadows over exhausted faces.

Serena sat with her back pressed against the padded seat near the front of the flight deck, arms crossed tightly over her chest, trying not to look at the window beside her. Through it, the Earth was already shrinking — blue, beautiful, distant.

She swallowed hard.

Steve sat next to her, quiet. His fingers twitched slightly against his thigh before gently reaching over and slipping his hand into hers.

Serena's breath caught.

Steve didn't say anything at first. He just held her hand. Warm. Solid. A heartbeat she could cling to.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She didn't answer right away. Her eyes were fixed on the stars ahead, on the black expanse that swallowed everything.

"I've taken down warlords in Siberia, outsmarted Hydra sleeper cells, survived Bucharest in a wire tap cage with a pulse monitor in my tooth..." Her voice cracked. "But this? This is different. This is... space, Steve. There's no floor to fall back on. No sky to pray to. No plan."

He turned to face her fully. "We've always gone where the fight was. You were never afraid of that."

"I wasn't," she admitted. "Until he showed me what I could've had. What he took."

Her eyes lifted to meet his.

"When he used the Reality Stone on me... he didn't torture me. He didn't kill me. He gave me a lie." She exhaled hard. "I was pregnant. You were there. We lived in my old apartment in D.C. Molly was there. Both of my parents were alive. You were smiling like the world had ended, but we'd survived it. And for a second, I believed it."

Steve's thumb brushed the back of her hand.

"You never told me," he said gently.

"I couldn't," she murmured. "Because part of me still wants it to be real."

She looked away. "And I hate myself for that."

Steve leaned in slightly, pressing his forehead to hers. The way he used to when words weren't enough.

"We don't get to choose what breaks us," he whispered. "Only what we do with the pieces."

Serena closed her eyes, letting the weight of his words settle into her ribs.

Just then—

"Trust me," Carol Danvers said from the front, eyes on the window. "You get used to it."

Rocket spun around in the pilot's seat, his eyes sweeping the cabin.

"Okay, who here hasn't been to space?"

Steve, Serena, Natasha, and Rhodey raised their hands — awkward, tentative.

Rocket groaned. "Oh, you're gonna hate this. You better not throw up on my ship!"

"Approaching jump in three, two..." Nebula said from the co-pilot seat.

Steve's fingers tightened in Serena's hand.

And then—

WHOOSH.

The Benatar tore through space.

The stars became streaks. The Earth vanished behind them. The cosmos opened wide like a gaping, endless scream.

Serena squeezed her eyes shut, and for a heartbeat, she forgot to breathe.

The Benatar dropped out of jump.

The orange planet below loomed like a dying ember. Its surface was quiet. Still.

Carol hovered beside the ship, silhouetted against the stars, scanning the surface below.

"I'll head down for recon," she said through the comms. "If I'm not back in fifteen, you'll know I found him."

No one answered.

The silence was thick.

Steve stared at the small compass in his palm. The one he hadn't touched in years. Inside it was no longer Peggy's photo — but Serena's. A soft portrait, her smile faint, her eyes fierce.

"This is going to work, Steve," Natasha said from behind him.

He didn't look away. 

"I know it will," he said. "Because I don't know what I'm going to do if it doesn't."

Serena tightened her grip on Steve's hand, and he squeezed right back, almost like they were reassuring each other.

Just then, Carol reappeared at the window, floating.

"No satellites. No ships. No armies. No ground defenses of any kind," she reported. "It's just him."

Nebula's voice was like broken glass. "That's enough."

They all shared a look.

Time to finish it.

Smoke curled from a crooked chimney atop a hill.

The ground was tilled. The trees bent low. A pot boiled over an open fire.

And there he was.

Thanos.

Limping. Burned. His left arm hung dead at his side — blackened, shriveled. His armor gone. No throne. No warship.

Just a shack. Just a farmer.

He reached for the pot.

CRASH.

The roof collapsed.

Carol and Rhodey tackled him to the ground. The Hulkbuster slammed through the wall and pinned his arm. Stormbreaker roared through the room—

CHOP.

Thanos screamed as Thor severed his hand from his wrist. The gauntlet hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled to Rocket's feet.

Rocket picked it up.

His face fell.

"They're gone," he whispered. "The stones... they're not here."

Steve's voice was cold, cutting. "Where are they?"

Thanos said nothing.

Carol shoved him to his knees.

"Answer the question!" she demanded.

The Mad Titan lifted his eyes — tired, dull — but still certain.

"The universe required correction," he rasped. "After that, the stones served no purpose... beyond temptation."

Bruce stepped forward, fists clenched. "You murdered trillions."

"You should be grateful," Thanos said softly.

"You're a madman." Serena murmured.

"Where are the stones?" Natasha snapped.

"Gone," he said, almost gently. "Reduced to atoms."

Bruce's voice rose. "You used them. Two days ago."

Thanos nodded slowly. "I used the stones... to destroy the stones."

The words landed like a hammer.

"It nearly killed me," he went on. "But the work is done. It always will be."

Rocket collapsed to his knees, scouring the dirt, almost crying. "No. No, they can't be—"

"He's lying," Rhodey growled.

Nebula shook her head, jaw clenched.

"My father is many things," she whispered. "A liar is not one of them."

Thanos turned to her.

"Thank you, daughter," he began. "Perhaps I've treated you—"

SWOOSH.

Stormbreaker flew again.

SPLASH.

Thanos's head hit the floor.

His body followed a moment later.

Everyone froze.

Thor stood over the corpse, chest heaving.

"I went for the head," he murmured.

Serena stared at the lifeless body. At the stump where his hand used to be. At the blackened skin and the soft glow of the fire behind him.

She stepped forward, eyes locked on his face.

And then she spoke — not to him, but to herself.

"He gave me the life I wanted," she whispered. "To break me."

She felt Steve's gaze behind her, but she didn't look back.

"He didn't want to hurt me. He wanted me to stop. To accept. To surrender." Her hands trembled at her sides. "And I almost did."

Silence.

No one dared interrupt. As most of them knew, this was years of trauma finally coming out.

"Now look at him," she muttered, voice low. "Look what he has. A shack. A pot of soup. No army. No victory."

She looked at Thor. "You did the right thing."

He didn't respond.

No one did.

Because it was over.

But it didn't feel like a victory.

It felt like a wound that would never scar.

Steve moved beside her. He reached out — not for a weapon, not for a mission.

Just her hand.

She took it.

Together, they turned away from the corpse of the man who had broken the universe.

And walked out into the ruin of a galaxy left behind.

Year 1

Time didn't pass so much as it staggered forward, limping like the rest of the world — fractured, uneven, quieter.

The skies were clearer. The cities were emptier. Every conversation carried weight.

Some tried to rebuild.

Others just tried to breathe.

Natasha hadn't left the Compound.

She kept a thin grip on routine: morning runs, database sweeps, intel updates, black coffee at 6:00 a.m. sharp. She and Rhodey split their time across multiple screens, maps, and global scans, hunting any trace of Clint Barton. He'd gone dark after the Snap. Blood in his wake.

"Barton's still off-grid," Rhodey muttered one morning, rubbing his temples. "Interpol flagged a triple homicide in Prague. But it wasn't him. Too clean."

Natasha didn't answer. She just kept clicking through encrypted feeds.

Grief didn't hollow her — it hardened her. Every day she didn't find Clint made her feel further from the person who once led the Avengers.

But she wasn't alone.

Rhodey stayed. Quiet. Present. A solid shadow beside her. Sometimes they didn't speak for hours. But sometimes, silence was its own kind of comfort.

Tony married Pepper in secret.

A ceremony no larger than a folded napkin — just them, their vows, and the breeze whispering through pine trees.

Rhodey, Bruce, and Natasha were allowed. No cameras. No speeches. No rings passed around the table.

No Serena. No Steve.

When Serena heard, she simply nodded. "Good. He needs it."

Steve had said nothing at all.

Tony sent no thank-you notes. Just vanished into peace, like a ghost in an iron suit.

Thor had left and disappeared, almost like he never wanted to be heard from again, and Rocket, Carol, and Nebula left not long after Thanos fell.

Too many worlds had no one left to protect them. No governments. No defenses. No hope.

Rocket didn't say goodbye.

Carol said, "We'll keep in touch," but Serena knew she wouldn't.

Nebula just looked at Serena as they loaded the ship and said, "Keep him alive."

She was talking about Steve.

Then they were gone, swallowed by the stars.

The house was three stories of colonial opulence.

White columns. Wisteria-choked porches. Dozens of rooms that creaked with history.

Felicita de Fontaine's legacy dripped from every molding.

Now it belonged to Serena.

She and Steve moved in the spring after the Snap. It was her idea — though she didn't say why. Maybe it was to be closer to her mother, even in absence. Maybe because she needed something permanent to hold onto.

Steve adjusted better than she expected.

He tended the garden. Painted the shutters. Spent quiet mornings on the porch sketching in charcoal. Sometimes Serena would just stand in the doorway, watching him — trying to etch the image into her soul.

But even here, grief curled around the edges.

Everett Ross showed up every month, being more present in Serena's life than ever before.

Sometimes at the estate. Sometimes via encrypted call. Always with the same message:

"We need you back, Serena. The CIA's flailing. You're the only one who can keep the gears from chewing everyone alive."

She'd been the youngest General Counsel in CIA history. Tactical savant. Clean record. Fluent in seven languages. Her mother's daughter.

But Serena always gave the same answer:

"Not yet."

Ross would sigh, nod, and leave. But he never stopped asking.

Serena returned to New York one day in late April, months after leaving the compound.

She wasn't there for a mission.

She was there for a birth.

Alison had gone into labor on the medical deck, during a visit to the Compound. Nick paced the hallway like a lion in a cage, muttering a Navy SEAL mantra under his breath.

"You alright?" Serena asked, arms folded, leaning against the wall.

"I'm great," Nick snapped, clearly not.

"You're sweating."

"I'm not sweating."

She smirked. "Nick... you look like you just disarmed a bomb with your teeth."

But he didn't laugh. Not this time.

He paused, ran a hand through his hair.

"I was never supposed to survive this long," he said. "You know that, right? I wasn't built for peace. Wasn't built for... this."

He looked toward the delivery room, eyes flickering.

"But she is. Our daughter... she deserves something I never had. And I'm gonna give it to her. No more deployments. No more classified ops. I'm done."

Serena blinked.

Nick Pierce — adrenaline-junkie, sniper-god, chaos incarnate — was finally stopping.

The door opened.

And Felicity Pierce entered the world.

Alison held her with shaking arms. Nick wept without shame. Serena watched from the doorway, unseen, eyes stinging with something between joy and memory.

Steve came to stand beside her.

"She's beautiful," he whispered.

Serena nodded. "Her name's Felicity."

Steve smiled faintly. "Like your mother."

"Yeah."

Then, as he stepped forward and held the tiny girl in his arms, something twisted inside Serena's chest.

Hard.

Deep.

Final.

She looked at Steve — the way he cradled Felicity like she was made of starlight and breath. The way his voice dropped to a hush. The way his smile crinkled near his eyes.

She loved him more in that moment than she ever had before.

And she said nothing.

Later that night, she lay in bed beside him, silent as the moonlight poured through antique windows.

She thought of Berlin.

Of the baby she never told anyone about.

The pregnancy that had barely lasted two months before the mission went south — before Barnes, brainwashed and savage, had thrown her down a staircase. Before the blood soaked through her jeans and no one noticed because the alarms were blaring.

That child would've been nearly two now.

She thought about what they might've named it.

But she didn't cry.

She just rolled over and stared at the ceiling, lips pressed tight.

Steve stirred beside her, reaching out in his sleep to pull her close.

She let him.

And didn't say a word.

Year 2

The second year after the Snap was quieter than the first.

Not because there was less to mourn — but because the mourning had settled into the walls, soaked into the bones of every building still left standing. The Compound, once alive with the movement of giants and the weight of purpose, had become a museum of ghosts.

Natasha stayed.

She slept in the west wing now, near the security hub, her quarters stripped of anything sentimental. She spent most days in the control center, tracking signals, chasing whispers, decoding fragmented data with no promise of results. The feed from Tokyo played on a loop sometimes — not for the intel, but for the memory. For the chance to freeze time in a place where she could still pretend he was out there.

Most nights, she didn't eat. Some nights, she didn't sleep.

She kept the lights dim and the Compound running — but she never raised her voice. No one was there to hear it.

Rhodey left in April.

The government had reinstated full active duty for strategic forces. He accepted the post quietly, without ceremony, and took point on damage assessments for global regions: infrastructure loss in Nairobi, political collapse in Eastern Europe, social breakdowns in northern India.

He reported in when he could. But mostly, he didn't. Mostly, he was too busy watching the world try to make sense of a broken population map.

He kept a small photo of the old team in his desk drawer. He never looked at it.

Alexandria became a different kind of stronghold.

Nick and Alison moved into a modest townhouse on the outskirts of the historic district. Felicity learned to walk along the brick garden paths, her curls bouncing with each toddling step. She called the birds by name and clapped whenever she heard music.

Alison didn't speak about Mossad anymore.

Instead, she took her linguistic dexterity, her tactical brain, her unflinching resolve — and used it in courtrooms. Immigration law became her battlefield. She wore navy suits and fought for families who'd lost everything, often before the Snap ever took its toll. In her silence was power. In her passion was precision.

Nick, meanwhile, traded his assault rifle for an office pass at the Pentagon.

He coordinated intel briefings, advised on covert security operations, and reviewed global counterterrorism tactics. His hands still itched when the alerts came in, but when Felicity ran to him at 6:00 p.m. every evening, squealing with joy, something in him softened.

He had learned that the most dangerous mission was not the one on foreign soil — it was being present in the peace he never thought he'd live to see.

And Serena?

Serena became Director.

There was no grand press release. No podium. No photograph for the historical archive.

But one morning, the plaque on the door changed.

It simply read:

Director S. A. de Fontaine Pierce

She took the position because she was tired of saying no. Because she needed structure. Because her mother would have told her to. Because the weight of the world demanded it — and she was done pretending she wasn't built to carry it.

She wore black most days. Slept four hours a night. Kept her emotions behind glass.

She was respected.

Feared.

Unreachable.

Except by Lewis.

He visited after every Grand Prix. It didn't matter if he won or placed last. He came anyway, often without warning. He would bring her things she never asked for — rare chocolates, European gossip, photos of him and Felicity, tickets to things she'd never attend.

He never asked how she was.

But he always looked at her like he already knew.

Because he did.

She didn't smile much. She didn't go out. She stopped playing music in the house.

And the one time she stared at her reflection in the mirror too long, she didn't recognize the woman looking back.

Steve drifted.

Not from place to place — but from purpose.

He didn't speak much. Didn't go to meetings. Didn't answer calls. He stopped returning to the Compound's gym. The punching bag hung limp and unused. The field out back, once alive with drills and sparring, had overgrown.

But the range?

That he never stopped.

Morning, noon, and night, he would disappear into the soundproof shelter below the estate and fire round after round into pristine targets. He cleaned his gear with military precision. Trained until his hands blistered. Sharpened his accuracy until every bullet struck dead center — but never told anyone what he was trying to hit.

He stopped touching Serena.

Stopped reading with her.

Stopped seeing her.

He slept beside her, but he wasn't with her. Not really. And she stopped asking him where he went when he disappeared into himself.

Tony remained a myth.

No sightings. No messages. No mistakes.

Even the surveillance satellites lost track of him.

Whatever world he was building — it wasn't one for them.

Year 3

Time, it seemed, had stopped measuring progress — and instead began charting how deeply people could live with fractures that never fully healed.

In the third year after the Snap, it became clear that survival wasn't the same as living.

The estate in Alexandria had grown quiet.

Too quiet.

The gardens were overgrown again — not from neglect, but from absence. Serena still trimmed the lavender bushes herself when she had time, methodical in the way her mother had taught her. She no longer lingered near the nursery room they'd never used.

The bedroom she and Steve shared had become two people cohabiting a silence.

What began as missed touches became missed meals. What was once passion became polite choreography — small shoulder brushes in hallways, shared glances over coffee. The ring on Serena's finger still glinted in the morning light. She never took it off.

But she had stopped expecting a wedding.

They went to therapy because someone had to say it first.

The sessions were civil. Focused. Structured. Steve sat with arms crossed, back straight. Serena came in already on edge, hair pulled tight, eyes sharper than usual. She talked more, at first — full of data, logic, frustration masked in control. He said less, until the silences cracked under pressure and the blame spilled in quiet eruptions.

She blamed the distance. His withdrawal. The way he touched her like habit, not hunger. She said she felt unseen.

He blamed the job. Her detachment. The way Langley swallowed her whole and spit her out hollow. He said she made no room for them.

They both blamed the war.

But neither said it out loud.

They left sessions more exhausted than when they arrived, driving back in silence, fingers twitching in their laps, rings heavy on their hands. Progress was slow. Sometimes backward. But neither of them stopped going.

It was something.

Even if they didn't know what.

Natasha rarely left the Compound anymore.

The walls that had once made her feel useful now felt like containment. Her logs were shorter. Her missions, fewer. Her voice over comms was monotone — practiced and professional. But when the signal ended, so did the façade.

She moved like someone dragging grief behind her.

Rocket would check in occasionally, cracking jokes like he wasn't trying too hard. Nebula's visits were quieter, more observant — her brand of support was presence, not words. And Carol always came and went like a comet, never staying long, but never failing to ask if Natasha had eaten, or if she needed anything brought from Titan, or Xandar, or anywhere else in the void.

But even the warmth of that routine faded.

Because what Natasha missed — what she needed — couldn't be replaced.

Clint wasn't on any grid. Not even hers.

And every time she opened a new lead and found nothing but smoke, her resolve dimmed.

Alexandria was brighter than it had been in years.

Nick's mornings began with Felicity's giggles and ended with bedtime stories — a rhythm of life that had finally steadied. He had grown into this version of himself with pride, not resistance. Desk job by day, father by heart, soldier only when he had to be.

He hadn't touched a field weapon in months.

Alison's work brought her into battle in a different way now — one of laws and borders and second chances. She had become a force in the courtroom, her methods strategic and sharp. They talked, often and openly, about bringing another child into the world. They weren't in a rush.

They just knew now what mattered.

Serena pretended she was fine.

She still woke early. Still led the CIA. Still made her calls with Everett, drafted protocols, sat in back-to-back briefings. She still read every piece of intel that crossed her desk, red-penned policy drafts late into the night, and met with foreign dignitaries like she wasn't unraveling beneath her coat.

But Lewis noticed.

He always noticed.

After every race, he still showed up. And he didn't ask questions — just walked with her through the estate's halls or sat in the library with a drink while she pretended to read.

And in those hours, when the house was still, she would catch herself thinking of what could've been.

A wedding that never happened.

A child that never lived.

Sometimes she found herself staring at the stairs in the foyer — remembering the ones in Berlin. The ones Barnes threw her down. She counted backward and realized that if the baby had survived, it would've been nearly two years old now.

She never spoke the thought aloud.

Just closed the door to that memory and went to work the next day like nothing had ever happened.

Steve still trained — but not with others.

He stopped going to the range and started running again. Long, punishing laps through the woods behind the estate. No comms. No music. Just footfall and breath and the ache of distance.

He thought about writing his vows once.

Then he tore the page in half.

He hadn't told Serena why he wasn't ready. Not really. Just that he wasn't.

But the truth was uglier.

He didn't know how to marry someone when he wasn't sure if he was whole enough to love her properly.

There was no defining moment — no thunderclap, no burst of revelation — only a slow, steady thaw. The kind that crept in quietly and melted what had once been frozen solid.

Year 4

By the start of the fourth year, Steve and Serena began to remember who they were to each other.

It started with flowers.

Simple ones. Nothing extravagant. Daisies in a mason jar. Hydrangeas left on her nightstand. Lavender on her desk at Langley. Always unannounced. Always hand-delivered. And though Serena never said much, she began saving each one — drying them, pressing them, tucking them into pages of old books like small markers of repair.

They began touching again, not out of duty or expectation, but tenderness. Fingers brushing while passing each other in the kitchen. A hand resting against a shoulder a second longer than necessary. By midsummer, they were kissing again — the kind that lingered, full of want and memory.

But it was Brazil that sealed it.

Steve had booked it quietly — no fanfare, no advanced warning — just two tickets, a remote location, and the promise of no phones, no satellites, no Langley, no Avengers.

Only them.

They stayed in a cottage that overlooked the rainforest, surrounded by sounds older than civilization. Morning sun spilled across the wooden porch while they read quietly side by side. In the afternoons, they hiked barefoot through jungle trails, or swam in freshwater springs, or lay tangled in linen sheets, saying everything and nothing.

They laughed like they used to. Ate fresh fruit. Napped without guilt. Made love without fear.

And at night, when the cicadas sang, they whispered promises — not vows, but truths.

They didn't need a wedding.

But if fate ever handed them more — another heartbeat, another life — they would receive it without bitterness or regret.

Back in Virginia, Serena found herself...lighter.

Not less focused — the CIA still demanded her at full speed — but more centered. She began playing piano again. Her mother's baby grand had survived the years, its keys a little out of tune, but still warm under her fingers. It became a sanctuary — a nightly habit, a personal language she hadn't spoken since girlhood.

And she danced.

Every other week, she made the trip to the Avengers Compound. Natasha would already be in the studio, stretching in silence. They never needed to explain the ritual — ballet had become their truce with themselves. Sweat and ache and elegance. It reminded Serena who she had been before the covert suits and kill orders. For Natasha, it was a lifeline.

They didn't speak much afterward. Just sipped water on the edge of the mat. Sometimes they'd share a knowing look — the kind that meant we're still alive — and that was enough.

Serena also started baking again.

It began as stress relief. Croissants one Sunday. Macarons the next. Choux pastry with vanilla cream after a bad debrief with the Secretary of Defense. The estate often smelled like butter and almond extract. Nick would drop by with Felicity and tease her relentlessly about opening a patisserie in Old Town.

She always rolled her eyes, but she never said no.

Steve, for his part, rediscovered leisure.

He took up golf after Everett jokingly invited him to a veterans' charity tournament. Turned out he was naturally good — steady stance, sharp aim, patient tempo. He started playing regularly. Nick joined, then Lewis when he was in town. Sometimes Everett brought someone from the Hill who just wanted to say they'd played a round with Captain America.

Steve never minded. It made him feel...normal. Centered.

Every Thursday afternoon, the group played nine holes and shared war stories that had nothing to do with actual war.

And when December came, so did a new heartbeat.

Christmas was quiet that year. Snow blanketed Alexandria, and the estate glowed softly under twinkling lights and pine garlands. Serena came down the stairs in slippers, coffee in hand, hair still damp from the shower — and stopped in her tracks when she saw what was waiting by the tree.

A golden retriever puppy. Small, dopey, big-pawed. Wrapped in a red bow.

She didn't speak at first — just knelt slowly, let the puppy climb into her lap and lick her jaw. Steve stood behind her, hands in his pockets, a quiet smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

She named her Meredith.

And while she'd never be the same dog Molly was...Serena vowed to love this dog just as much. And that night, Meredith fell asleep at the foot of their bed, her soft snores blending with the low hum of winter wind outside.

They still hadn't set a date. There were still long days, long arguments, longer silences.

But they had begun again.

And sometimes, that was everything.

Year 5

The fifth year began with a jolt — not from politics, war, or cosmic disruption, but from the quiet, personal orbit of their lives.

Lewis announced he was leaving Mercedes.

The news came with little fanfare but deep resonance. Over breakfast in Alexandria, after a long weekend spent sipping coffee with Serena on the back patio and chasing Felicity around Nick and Alison's newly renovated townhouse, he said the words — calmly, but with weight.

Ferrari.

The word landed like a record scratch.

He explained his decision not with stats or contracts but with sentiment. How he missed Felicita's gentle lectures, the way she reminded him to balance ambition with stillness. How he missed Val's dry wit — her eye rolls, her snide remarks when he got too cocky. They had been constants. Anchors.

Joining Ferrari, he said, was a tribute. A shift into legacy. Something that felt right after too much loss and too many miles.

It wasn't about winning anymore.

It was about honoring who had believed in him — and loving who remained.

Everett became more present too.

Time had softened his edges. Or perhaps it had simply brought him back to his roots. The man who had once stood on the sidelines of Serena and Nick's childhood with a father's steadiness — even when he wasn't their father — was back at the center of their lives.

He worked side-by-side with Serena now. Not just as a colleague, but as someone who remembered the girl who used to steal his Ray-Bans and prank Langley security teams for fun. He no longer hovered with authority. He walked beside her as an equal — as family.

Steve, meanwhile, found his purpose again — not through missions or directives, but through people.

He started a support group in Brooklyn. Quietly. No press. No social media posts. Just chairs in a circle and space to speak. Grief, loneliness, guilt — all welcomed. He rarely talked about himself, but his presence alone offered healing. He never missed a session.

But every night, without fail, he returned to Alexandria.

To Serena.

To their home.

And slowly, her home became more than a command center or a reminder of the past. It became lived-in again. Loved.

She started riding again.

Quantum — her grey gelding who had somehow survived the Snap — had grown older but remained strong. The estate's arena was restored to working condition, and Serena would take him over jumps again, moving like a whisper through the air, sweat and breath and precision returning to her limbs.

She bought a pony for Felicity.

A shaggy, stubborn little thing that kicked the stall door and nuzzled apples from Serena's palm. She named him Bramble. And every weekend, Serena would lift Felicity into the saddle and guide her hands to the reins, teaching her the patience of balance and the rhythm of trust.

Nick, for all his Pentagon responsibilities, now had another title: owner.

He had inherited the Washington Capitals — originally Alexander's asset, and now considered to be an unexpected byproduct of Felicita's sprawling assets. Instead of offloading them, he embraced the legacy. Renovation plans for the arena began. Training upgrades. A veterans' program for local kids. The Capitals have been in the Pierce family for decades, and while she often protested about how much she hated that team. Nick and Serena all knew deep down that their mother had loved that team.

He was still intel. Still muscle when needed. But now, he was also father, husband, boss, and man — steady and fulfilled in a way he hadn't been since the uniform first hit his back.

At the compound, things moved slower.

Natasha hadn't stopped searching.

The reports were few and scattered. Bodies left behind — always criminals, always brutal. The signature was consistent. Swift. Lethal. Precise.

The name that kept coming up: Ronin.

She kept it to herself, mostly. But her gut — her grief — told her the truth.

It was Clint.

And she wasn't going to stop until she brought him home.

The world hadn't healed. Not fully. Not yet.

But inside these small, intentional moments — in the revival of horses, hockey, and home-cooked pastry, in the laughter of a child, the strength of routine, and the quiet rebuilding of relationships — there was movement again.

There was breath.

There was life.

 

 

Notes:

Now we are caught up to everyone with what they are doing for the past 5 years.

As always, let me know if you have any questions, concerns, predictions, or ideas, and fill free to comment!

Chapter 52: Chapter 52

5 Years After the Snap

Location: Alexandria, Virginia

The sunlight filtered in slowly through gauzy linen curtains, casting pale stripes across the hardwood floor of the master bedroom. It was the kind of morning light that didn't rush anyone — warm, honeyed, and just soft enough to delay the urgency of the day.

Meredith was the first to stir.

The golden retriever, now a year old and stretching out to her full size, let out a satisfied groan as she rolled onto her side — effectively elbowing Steve in the ribs with one of her large, fuzzy paws. He let out a quiet grunt in response, shifting beneath the sheets. Serena, already half-awake, blinked slowly at the ceiling before glancing over at the canine sprawled across the foot of the bed like she paid rent.

"Meredith," she muttered, voice gravelly from sleep, "you are not a lapdog anymore."

Meredith thumped her tail once in reply. Unapologetic.

Steve let out a sleepy chuckle beside her. "I don't think she cares."

Serena sighed, but she was smiling now, just faintly. She rolled to her side to face him, tucking her hand under her cheek.

"Morning," she murmured.

He leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Morning."

The shower was quiet.

Not silent — the water hissed, their breaths mingled — but quiet in the way only two people who knew each other this well could be. Steve stood behind her, his hands trailing absently along her hips, slow and reverent. Serena leaned back into his chest, head tilted, eyes closed.

No rush. No mission briefing. Just warmth.

Afterward, wrapped in towels and steam, Serena stood at the sink tying her robe. Steve adjusted the sleeve of his shirt beside her, glancing into the mirror as he ran a hand through damp hair.

"I've got Brooklyn this morning," he said. "Support group's at ten. Then I was thinking of swinging by the Compound. Nat wants an update on Tokyo."

Serena looked over, nodding. "Good. She needs the face time."

"She always reads my texts like I'm texting from a war zone."

"You kind of are."

He grunted in agreement.

Serena turned back toward the closet, pulling a black blazer off the hook. "I've got the Pentagon. Defense Department's running another tabletop exercise. Everett and Nick are sitting in — and after that, I'm grabbing lunch in Old Town with Felicity and Alison."

Steve smiled faintly. "You're voluntarily having lunch with your sister-in-law?"

"She's easier to handle when Felicity's throwing Cheerios at her."

They kissed at the door. Familiar. Gentle. She adjusted the collar of his jacket. He fixed the twist in her earring. Meredith pawed at the floor, not wanting either of them to leave.

"Tell Nat I said hi," Serena said, already slipping on her sunglasses.

"Tell Nick I'm judging his lunch choices from a distance."

The engine of the black Porsche 911 purred like a promise.

Serena eased onto the highway, the sleek machine handling like a second skin. She didn't blast music — she never did when she was on her way to Langley or the Pentagon. She preferred silence. Space to think.

The drive to D.C. was smooth, sun rising higher now, painting the skyline in gold.

She parked in the secure lower-level garage beneath the Pentagon and flashed her badge to the guard at the checkpoint. One eyebrow lifted at the car.

"Morning, Director," he said, grinning. "Still driving like a Bond villain, I see."

Serena smirked. "Better than a desk jockey."

Everett was already waiting for her near the elevators, cup of coffee in hand and tie slightly loosened like he'd been up since 4 a.m. (because he probably had).

"You look more rested than usual," he noted, falling into step beside her.

"I slept," she replied simply.

"Must be nice. I had a dream about a diplomatic summit between Val representing the United States and the North Koreans. I woke up sweating."

"Your subconscious needs therapy."

"I'm on a waitlist."

They exchanged dry smiles as they turned the corner toward Nick's office — and that's when it hit them.

"JUMP AROUND! JUMP AROUND! JUMP UP, JUMP UP AND GET DOWN!"

Serena exhaled slowly. "You've got to be kidding me."

Everett grimaced. "You'd think being a parent would've mellowed him out."

They reached the office door, which was cracked open. Serena knocked once — out of courtesy, not necessity — and pushed it open.

Inside, Nick was seated in a rolling chair, headset on, fingers moving at breakneck speed on a PlayStation controller. The massive wall-mounted screen showed Call of Duty, mid-match, gunfire and explosions ricocheting through the speakers. A half-eaten protein bar sat on a coaster. Felicity's latest crayon drawing was taped to the wall — just above a rack of tactical gear.

Nick didn't look up.

"Left flank, left flank — I said LEFT, Kyle! Jesus, how did you even pass training?"

Serena stepped in front of the screen.

The game kept going. Nick didn't blink.

Everett stepped beside her, crossing his arms.

Nick finally paused the game. Removed the headset.

"I was winning."

Serena arched a brow. "I'm sure you were. Is this the Pentagon's official counterinsurgency training simulator now?"

"Team-building exercise," he said dryly. "Bonding with a few contractors over shared trauma and virtual frag grenades."

Everett ignored him and walked to the conference table. "Let's talk brass tacks. We've got two major concerns."

Serena followed, already pulling a slim file from her bag. "Go."

"First," Everett began, "we've received a secondary intel packet from Tokyo — another power surge consistent with HYDRA tech. Could be a false alarm, but Natasha's tracking it."

Nick leaned back, setting down his controller. "Second — and more pressing — the President wants to meet."

Serena frowned. "What for?"

"Classified briefing. He's calling in his entire national security triad — including you two." Everett tapped the desk. "Thursday morning. Situation Room."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Love being summoned like it's jury duty."

"Security protocols are shifting too," Everett added, serious now. "Satellite sweeps are picking up chatter from deep orbit. Something new. Something weird. Not quite alien. Not quite domestic."

"Do we know what it is?" Serena asked, flipping through the pages.

"Not yet. But if the chatter's right — it's heading our way."

They fell silent for a beat.

The music had long stopped.

Nick cracked his knuckles.

"Guess peace was too much to ask for."

Serena's eyes lifted, voice low.

"It always is."

The sun had dipped westward by the time Serena returned to Langley, golden light pouring in through the tall windows of her office — the same one her mother had once ruled from with quiet command and unshakable polish.

Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she stepped inside, shrugging off her blazer and tossing it across the back of the leather chair. She paused just inside the doorway, fingers grazing the light switch — but didn't flip it.

The office didn't need artificial light right now. It was glowing already — a soft amber sheen catching on mahogany shelves, the glint of old picture frames, and the subtle shimmer of framed commendations. All once her mother's.

Serena exhaled and stepped toward her desk.

There, propped in delicate silver frames, sat the fragments of her life:

One of her and Steve, both of them caught mid-laugh at a garden party in Montauk, sunlight catching in her hair as he leaned toward her with that effortless, boyish grin.

One of her, Nick, Alison, and their mother — Felicita — all in formal wear at a gala at the White House, Felicita standing tall with pride gleaming in her eyes as her children flanked her like guards and storm clouds.

Another with Lewis, Steve, Nick, Alison, and little Felicity, taken on the back patio last spring, Felicity squirming mid-giggle in Serena's lap, strawberry juice smeared on her cheek. Lewis had snapped it on his Leica — and it was slightly off-center, but perfect.

And the oldest of the bunch: a graduation photo. Serena, 20, in a navy Ralph Lauren pantsuit, fresh-faced and unknowingly about to inherit the weight of an empire. Beside her, Everett and Val stood tall — Val's arms crossed and shades hiding her tears — and her mother, lips painted crimson, hand resting protectively on Serena's shoulder.

Serena's fingers hovered over that last one longer than she meant to.

She could still hear her mother's voice sometimes. Quiet. Measured. That cutting elegance. She'd left the world with no apology, but Serena still felt like she owed her answers.

With a slow breath, she moved toward the far corner, where her mother's old record player sat — black lacquer and brass detailing, pristine despite the years. She flicked it on, placed the needle delicately on a worn vinyl sleeve marked in elegant cursive: Ray Charles - Greatest Hits.

A low scratch. A hum.

Then:
"Georgia... Georgia..."

The song unfurled like silk — slow, aching, eternal. Her mother's favorite.

Serena leaned against the desk, eyes closing for a moment. Letting it wash over her. Letting herself miss — not as Director, not as an operative, not as the ironclad woman Langley saw her as — but as a daughter.

"I wish you were here," she whispered, barely audible over the melody. "God, I wish you were here."

Lunch in Old Town was Felicity's idea — or at least, that's how Alison told it.

The cafe was bright and loud, filled with toddlers in pigtails and clinking coffee spoons. Serena arrived in sunglasses and jeans for once, hair tied back in a low knot. She spotted Alison immediately — already seated, already halfway through a berry scone.

Felicity was coloring. Hard. Determined.

Serena kissed the girl's temple and sat down with a quiet laugh. "You're going to tear through the paper."

"I'm making Bramble," Felicity said, sticking out her tongue as she shaded the pony bright orange. "He has superpowers now."

"Does he fly?"

"No. He kicks bad guys in the butt."

Serena snorted. "That tracks."

Alison slid her a menu. "So, what's new, Madam Director?"

Serena raised an eyebrow. "Don't do that."

Alison grinned. "Fine. What's new, overworked, over-pressured, highly strategic superhero-in-chief?"

Serena rolled her eyes. "Better."

They ordered. Scones, sandwiches, too much caffeine.

And then, like Alison always did — she cut to the heart of it.

"Are you and Steve going to try for one soon?"

Serena froze for just a second. Her coffee cup paused mid-air.

"I don't know," she said finally.

Alison looked at her gently. "But you want to."

"I do." Her voice was soft. "I really do. But I'm also... terrified."

Alison said nothing. She didn't need to. Serena kept going.

"When things were bad between us — when the distance was worse than silence — I didn't think we'd make it. And now that we've come back from that... I'm scared a baby could break what we just started fixing."

Felicity giggled loudly, now coloring Meredith next to Bramble with stars in her fur.

Serena watched her for a beat, then lowered her voice.

"If I hadn't been such an idiot in Berlin... If I hadn't gone after Barnes alone..."

Her throat tightened.

"She would've been seven now."

Alison reached across the table and laid her hand gently over Serena's.

"You're not an idiot," she said softly. "You're human. And you've survived more than most people can imagine. That grief doesn't make you broken. It makes you... more."

Serena nodded faintly. Her phone buzzed. She glanced down — a text from Steve.

[Image attachment: A pod of whales surfacing in the Hudson, glistening under overcast skies]

Steve:   Saw this on the way to the Compound. Thought you'd like it.

Serena stared at the image for a long moment — serene, distant, real.

Then typed back:

Serena: There are fewer ships now. Cleaner water. It's strange — all this loss, and the world starts to breathe again.  How was the support group?

She waited.

Felicity made the orange Bramble fly across the table with a whispered "WHOOSH!"

Finally, Steve replied.

Steve: It was good. Some new faces. Same old stories. But it helps.

Serena smiled faintly. Then smirked, fingers flying again.

Serena: Your brother-in-law is an idiot. He was playing Call of Duty with "Jump Around" on full blast when I walked into his office this morning. At the Pentagon. In uniform. With a headset.

Steve's reply came a moment later.

Steve: That tracks.

Then:
Steve: Tell him to get off the comms and raise our niece right.

Serena looked up just as Felicity announced:
"Bramble is now the President."

Alison laughed and  Serena leaned back, smile lingering.

The world wasn't healed. But her heart, slowly, was beginning to remember what it felt like to live.

After finishing the rest of her paperwork after lunch, she opted to head home early, and while on her way home, she decided that of how nice the weather is, she was going to take Meredith on a walk with her. After getting out of her work clothes, she headed down the stairs where Meredith was eagerly waiting for her, almost like she knew what was going to happen.

The gate clicked shut behind her, the leash slack in her fingers as Meredith trotted beside her — tail high, tongue flopping. The pavement of the estate's long private drive was still warm from the fading summer sun, and the sky overhead had just begun to burn lavender and gold.

Serena wore black leggings and an old CIA sweatshirt from her time in the Academy, her hair tied into a low braid that had begun to fray. She moved slowly, rhythmically, steps steady against the pull of memory and thought.

"Oh, my life is changing every day..."
"...in every possible way..."

The Cranberries filtered through her AirPods, Dreams swelling into her bones as she walked, watching Meredith tug toward a butterfly like she thought she could catch it.

The song had always reminded her of something just out of reach — that feeling of potential, of longing with no words. Today, it felt heavier. Like something stirring in her ribs that didn't have a name.

They walked the entire perimeter of the property, through the orchard, past the stables, and around the edge of the southern paddocks where the pony, Bramble, whinnied lazily at them, Quantum, her prize-winning grey gelding, looked over to them, as if they were disrupting his dinner, and her mother's bay mare, Belle Époque - or Belle - lazily rolled in the grass at the sight of them. Meredith barked back, of course.

When they returned, the sun had slipped beneath the tree line. Serena unclipped the leash, tossed it in the foyer basket, and padded upstairs. Meredith collapsed dramatically on the floor of the bedroom, snoring in record time.

Serena shed her clothes without ceremony and stepped into the hot shower, steam unfurling around her like a veil. She pressed her hands to the cool tile, letting the water pour down her spine, willing the ache behind her ribs to dissolve.

Later, wrapped in an old CIA Academy tee and cotton shorts, she padded barefoot into the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she pulled ingredients from the fridge. Basil. Tomatoes. Goat cheese. Fresh dough she'd made last night.

She was halfway through assembling a flatbread on the stone board when her iPad — propped up on the counter — buzzed with a FaceTime request.

Steve.

She smiled, wiping her hands on a towel and answering.

The screen blinked into life.

And there he was.

Hair tousled. Shoulders tense. Wearing a black Henley that clung to him like fatigue. He was still at the Compound. She could see the glass walls behind him — the dull shine of the Hudson beyond.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she replied, smile warming. "Everything alright?"

He hesitated. That was enough.

She stopped moving. "Steve..."

"I'm not coming home tonight."

The words dropped like a pin in the room.

Serena blinked. "What happened?"

Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Scott showed up."

"Scott—Lang?"

He nodded. "He's been gone this whole time, Serena. Everyone thought he got snapped. But he wasn't."

Serena furrowed her brow. "So where was he?"

"The Quantum Realm."

She said nothing. Just stared.

"He says time works differently there. Five hours for him... five years for us."

She felt a chill crawl up her spine. "What are you saying?"

Steve met her eyes. "He thinks we can use it. Navigate it. He's pitching a way to go back. To... undo it."

Serena's heart thundered in her ears.

"You're talking about time travel," she said slowly, evenly. "You're talking about undoing five years of global adjustment. Five years of trauma, rebuilding, healing. Our healing."

Steve didn't argue. He just looked pained.

"We finally found peace, Steve," she whispered, stepping closer to the screen. "You and I... we're whole again. I can breathe again. And now you want to throw that all back into chaos for what? A gamble?"

"It's not just a gamble," Steve said gently. "It's a chance."

"A chance to lose you," she snapped, sharper than intended. "A chance to break everything we fought for."

He exhaled, nodding slowly. "I know. I do. But Serena... you know me. You know I have to try."

She stared at him, torn between rage and heartbreak.

"I can't go through that again," she said quietly. "I've already lost too much."

"I would never ask you to," Steve replied.

They were quiet for a long time.

Then, Steve spoke again. "We're heading to see Tony. He might be the only one who can build what Scott needs."

Serena's expression darkened. "Tony?"

Steve nodded. "Natasha says he has a daughter now."

Serena's eyes widened slightly.

"I didn't know," she murmured.

"Neither did I," Steve said. "Until today."

She swallowed hard, the heaviness in her chest returning.

He gave her a sad smile — the kind that broke her more than anything else.

"I'll call you tomorrow after we talk to Bruce," he said. "Just... hang in there."

She nodded slowly. "I will."

"I love you Ser," he said.

And somehow, in spite of everything, the words still made her breath catch.

"I love you, too."

The screen went black.

Serena stood in the kitchen, the flatbread forgotten, the music in her head silent now.

Meredith snored softly in the other room.

Outside, the world still spun.

But inside her chest, everything stood still.

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, or predictions.

Chapter 53: Chapter 53

The Next Day

Location: Alexandria, Virginia - Pierce Estate

The morning air was heavy with the smell of last night's rain. Clouds hung low over the treetops, the sky a muted slate, and inside the estate, the stillness was nearly oppressive. Serena stood barefoot in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, staring out the window without really seeing the rolling green lawn beyond.

Steve's call from last night replayed in her head like a stuck record.

Time travel. Quantum Realm. Scott Lang.

She could still hear his voice—steady, hopeful, and infuriatingly certain—telling her it was a chance. A chance. Fifty-fifty at best. No concrete plan. No guarantee it wouldn't blow up in their faces.

And of course, he had to take it.

Because Steve Rogers didn't know how to leave a battle unfought. Even if the war had already ended.

Serena took a sip of her coffee, swallowed, and set the mug down on the counter a little too hard. Meredith, curled up on the rug, lifted her head briefly before deciding her human wasn't worth the effort and laid back down.

She needed to work.

No—she needed to not think about Steve running headlong into a barely-formed idea that could undo not just the last five years, but everything they'd clawed back from the edge.

Her mind drifted to the sitting room almost on instinct. The baby grand sat there—her mother's piano, gleaming under the soft morning light filtering through tall windows.

She crossed the room slowly, her fingertips trailing along the smooth lacquered lid before lifting it open.

It had been weeks since she'd played.

Sliding onto the bench, she let her hands hover over the keys for a moment before pressing down, letting the familiar chords of Moon River spill into the quiet house.

Her voice followed—low, soft, not meant for anyone's ears but her own.

Moon River, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day...

She had always loved the song. Loved Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Serena remembered watching it with her as a teenager, curled on the couch, Felicita absently running a hand through her hair while watching Serena being able to recite half the lines from memory.

The melody caught in her throat for just a moment before she pushed on.

Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see...

She almost didn't hear the front door open over the music.

"Kid," a voice called, warm but gruff.

Serena glanced up just as Everett Ross appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

"I know you're mad," he said, stepping into the room, "but let's take a breather for a sec."

She let her hands rest on the keys, the last notes fading. "What are you doing here?"

His mouth twitched in the faintest smile. "What, I can't drop in on one of the only family members I've got left?"

That landed heavier than she'd expected.

Serena looked back at the keys, her voice quieter. "I miss her."

"Felicita?" Everett asked, though he already knew.

She nodded. "Her. Val. Both of them. I thought losing them would... dull over time. But it hasn't. I still reach for my phone sometimes to call her. And Val—God, she drove me crazy, but she was always there. Always."

Everett shifted, leaning a hip against the edge of the piano. "I'll admit it—" he grimaced like it cost him something—"I miss Val too. She never made it easy to like her, but... she was solid. The kind of solid you only miss when it's gone."

Silence stretched for a moment. Serena stared at the sheet music in front of her without really seeing it.

Everett tilted his head. "Alright. Why are you really angry?"

She blew out a breath. "Steve called last night. Says Scott Lang has some brilliant idea about using the Quantum Realm to go back—undo the Snap. A literal coin toss on a time machine. And he's ready to dive in like it's just another mission."

"And you think it's too risky."

"I think it's insane," she said flatly. "We've finally found something that feels like stability. We've healed. Or at least... patched ourselves together. And now he wants to tear the stitches out because what? There's a chance?"

Everett studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then: "You should go help him."

Serena's head snapped up. "What?"

"You heard me," he said. "I'm tired of watching you bury yourself in Langley until you're a ghost walking around in thousand-dollar heels. I saw it when you were a field agent—when you came home from missions looking like you'd been scraped out of hell but refused to take a week off. You're doing it again. Work's not going to save you from yourself."

Her jaw tightened. "And throwing myself into a quantum crapshoot is?"

"Maybe," he said simply. "Maybe not. But at least it's something. Something that matters. Something that's bigger than just staying busy so you don't have to feel anything."

She glared at him, but there wasn't much heat behind it.

Everett pushed off the piano. "And if you're going to go, you're gonna need to convince Nick too."

She groaned. "You know how stubborn he is."

"I do," Everett said dryly. "Which is why I'm not doing it for you. You're his sister. If anyone can get through to him, it's you."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Or it'll end with us screaming at each other."

"Maybe. But at least you'll have tried."

Serena looked back down at the keys, her fingers finding the opening chords of Moon River again almost on reflex.

"I hate when you're right," she muttered.

"I know," Everett said, smirking as he headed for the door. "That's why I enjoy it so much."

When he was gone, Serena sat there for a long time, the melody looping under her hands.

And somewhere, under the annoyance and the fear, a thought began to take root.

If there really was a way...

She might just have to see it through.

Later that night, Alexandria was quiet in the way only late hours could make it — the kind of silence that seemed to press against the windows, thick and heavy. The estate was still, save for the low hum of the television in the bedroom.

Serena was propped against the headboard in a loose sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed to her elbows, her legs stretched under the duvet. Some true-crime documentary was droning on in the background — the kind she half-watched while scrolling her phone. Meredith was curled in a warm, golden heap in Steve's spot on the bed, her slow, steady breathing almost syncing with the sound of the narrator's voice.

The iPad on the nightstand lit up.

Incoming Call — Steve Rogers.

She sighed, setting her phone down and swiping to answer. "Hey."

"Hey," Steve's voice came through, warm but tired. The familiar timbre made something in her shoulders loosen.

"What are you doing?" she asked, adjusting the pillow behind her.

"Honestly?" he said. "Same thing you are."

She arched a brow. "You're watching Forensic Files reruns in bed with a dog stealing your pillow space?"

"Not exactly," he said, a faint smile in his voice. "But close."

She smirked. "Alright, what's going on? You wouldn't be calling this late if there wasn't something."

There was a pause before he spoke again. "Bruce found... peace. With the Hulk."

Serena blinked. "I'm sorry — what?"

"He... I don't know how to explain it. He says he combined the best parts of himself with the best parts of the Hulk. Now he lives... peacefully as one."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What the fuck? Is he smoking weed?"

"Language, Ser," Steve said automatically, the same way he always did when she let something sharper slip.

She rolled her eyes. "You're telling me the guy who once smashed a Quinjet mid-flight now... does yoga and reads Nietzsche?"

"Something like that," Steve admitted, almost amused. "But he's in. He thinks this time travel thing could work — and he's working with Scott to figure it out."

She groaned, flopping her head back against the headboard. "You're all insane."

"Maybe," he allowed. "But Nat also got a lead on Barton. She thinks he's still in Tokyo."

That pulled her up short. "And?"

"And... she's going to try to bring him in. I don't know if he'll listen, but..." Steve's voice softened. "It's worth trying."

Serena's chest tightened, but she kept her voice even. "If anyone can, it's her."

"Yeah," Steve said quietly.

Silence settled for a moment, not awkward, just... still.

"Get some sleep, Ser," he said finally. "We've got a lot coming."

She smiled faintly despite herself. "You too."

"I love you," he added, gentle but firm.

"I love you, too."

The call ended, the screen going dark.

Serena glanced down at Meredith, who was still sprawled blissfully in Steve's spot, oblivious to the world possibly teetering on the edge of temporal chaos.

She reached for her laptop on the nightstand, flipping it open and typing into the search bar before she could talk herself out of it.

Can time travel work?

The results popped up instantly.

No, time travel doesn't work.
Why time travel will never be possible — scientists explain.
Top 10 reasons time travel is impossible under current physics.

Serena stared at the screen, then closed the laptop with a snap.

In the silence, she reached down and scratched behind Meredith's ear.

"Guess we're in for it, huh?"

Meredith thumped her tail in her sleep.

It was early the next morning when Serena realized that the Pentagon's south entrance had always felt colder than the others — not in temperature, but in mood. It was where the heavy hitters came in: military brass, national security advisors, intelligence directors. Everyone here walked like they knew the weight of the world could tilt with one bad call.

Serena swiped her badge and stepped through the security scanner, the familiar low hum vibrating faintly in her chest. She was in black cigarette trousers, a cream silk blouse, and her favorite trench coat. She'd left her hair down, which made her feel slightly less like Director S. A. de Fontaine Pierce, CIA and slightly more like Serena, the sister who was about to pick a fight with Nicholas Hunter Pierce in the middle of his fortress.

And that, she thought grimly as she crossed the gleaming atrium, was exactly what she was about to do.

Her hand flexed against the strap of her leather bag as she passed the last checkpoint. Anxiety pricked low in her stomach. She and Nick had gone head-to-head before — more than once — but Everett's warning from yesterday still sat heavy in her mind. Convincing him won't be easy. That was Everett-speak for Prepare for war.

Nick's office door was open, but only slightly. The walls here were thicker than most — built for classified briefings and the occasional, necessary yelling match.

Serena knocked once and pushed it open.

Nick was at his desk, black dress shirt rolled to the elbows, forearms resting on a classified briefing folder. His hair was cropped short now, the silver threading at his temples more pronounced. The years had carved sharpness into his face, but the ice-blue eyes — their father's eyes — hadn't changed.

He looked up immediately. "Well, if it isn't my baby sister. You here to chew me out about my lunch choices again?"

Serena shut the door behind her. "Not today."

Nick leaned back in his chair, arms crossing loosely. "That tone tells me this is going to be fun."

She stepped forward, planting both hands on the edge of his desk. "Steve's got a lead."

Nick's brows lifted slightly. "On what?"

"Fixing it," she said flatly.

It took him half a second to catch up. Then his expression hardened. "No."

"You didn't even hear me out—"

"I don't need to," he cut in. "If this is about Lang's little quantum fairy tale, I've already read the brief. It's reckless."

Serena's jaw tightened. "Reckless? We've been living in the aftermath for five years, Nick. If there's even a chance—"

"It's a fifty-fifty chance at best, and that's if the science isn't complete horseshit," he shot back. "You throw yourself into this, and you're playing roulette with the only stability you've got left."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you'd rather just sit here and wait for the next cosmic disaster to hit?"

"I'd rather not gamble my sister's life on a pipe dream cooked up by a guy who calls himself Ant-Man."

She gave a humorless laugh. "God, you are so—"

"Grown up?" he offered, leaning forward now. "Yeah. I did grow up, Ser. The day T'Challa got snapped out of my hands, I stopped being The White Wolf. I stopped chasing every fight like it was oxygen. I became a parent."

Her eyes sharpened. "I was just in this office two days ago and you were blasting 90s rap while playing Call of Duty on your PlayStation."

"That's called downtime," Nick said dryly.

"That's called regression," she shot back.

His jaw ticked, but he didn't bite on the bait. Instead, his voice went low. "What I see is a sister who's never learned how to slow down. Not when you were a field agent. Not when you were Deputy Director of SHIELD. Not when you were a CIA liaison to the Avengers. Every time you say you're going to stop, you creep right back into the field."

Her hands curled against the desk edge. "And what do you want me to do, Nick? Sit in some suburban cul-de-sac and bake cookies?"

"I want you to stop running yourself into the ground," he said, the volume rising now. "Maybe think about having some kids before it's too late."

The words hit like a slap.

Her voice went cold. "I tried that. Or do you not remember holding my bleeding body in the stairwell in Berlin when Barnes threw me down those stairs?"

The memory punched the air out of the room. His mouth opened, but nothing came out for a moment.

Finally, he said quietly, "That's not what I meant."

"It's what you said," she replied, steel in her tone.

They stared at each other, years of sibling shorthand and shared scars hanging between them.

Nick was the first to break the silence. "If you go to that Compound and buy into this time travel bullshit, you've lost your fucking mind. And I'm not going to join you. Not when — not if — it doesn't work."

She straightened, shaking her head. "You know, for someone who spent most of his career operating on nothing but instinct and bad odds, you've turned into a real coward."

His jaw flexed. "And you've turned into someone who doesn't know when to quit."

That was it. The line in the sand.

Serena grabbed her bag from the chair by the door, yanking it over her shoulder. "Fine. Don't help. But don't get in my way."

Nick didn't answer.

She opened the door, stepped out into the hall, and let it close behind her with a sharp click.

Her pulse was still spiking by the time she reached the elevator.

Everett had been right. This wasn't going to be easy.

And now, she thought grimly, she was even angrier than when she walked in.

The elevator ride down was quiet except for the faint hum of the cables. Serena kept her eyes on the brushed steel doors, refusing to replay the last ten minutes — but the words still clung to her like static.

Lost your fucking mind.
Maybe think about having some kids.

The elevator pinged. She stepped out into the cool concrete expanse of the garage, heels clicking as she crossed to her black Porsche. She unlocked it with a sharp beep and slid into the driver's seat.

For a long moment, she didn't start the engine.

Her hands stayed on the wheel, the leather cool against her palms. Her reflection stared back faintly from the dark screen of the infotainment system — hair still perfect, makeup untouched, but her jaw tight enough to ache.

Nick's refusal wasn't a surprise. She'd known before she walked into his office that he'd dig his heels in. Still... hearing him say it out loud, with that flat, stubborn Pierce finality, made it heavier.

She leaned back against the headrest, exhaling through her nose.

Heading to New York now would feel like conceding he was right — that she was impulsive, reckless. But staying here? Pretending the conversation never happened? That wasn't her either.

Serena reached for her sunglasses on the passenger seat, but something caught her eye — a small corner of glossy paper sticking out from the glove compartment.

She frowned and leaned over, pulling it free. The compartment door dropped open with a muted thunk, spilling the faint scent of old leather and paper.

And there it was.

A photo.

She knew it immediately. Maria had taken it years ago — back in the STRIKE days, before everything went to hell, before Hydra's rot bled through SHIELD. They'd just returned to the Triskelion after a mission in Morocco, still riding the adrenaline.

Serena stood on the left, in the SHIELD variant of her Viper suit — navy blue tactical weave with black paneling, her hair pulled back in a severe braid. She had her arms crossed and was looking at Steve, lips twisted in the kind of smirk that dared him to match her.

Steve was in his SHIELD stealth suit, cowl pulled back, hair damp with sweat. He was looking at her, not the camera, with that faint mix of irritation and respect that defined their working relationship back then.

They'd tolerated each other. Reluctantly.
And they sure as hell hadn't admitted there was something more.

Serena traced the edge of the photo with her thumb, feeling the faint bend in the paper from where it had been stuffed away.

She remembered how Maria had grinned when she'd handed her the print later that night. You're gonna want this someday, she'd said. Serena had rolled her eyes, tossed it in a drawer.

Now, years later, it was here. Waiting.

She let out a slow breath, the sound loud in the enclosed space.

Nick could call her reckless. He could tell her she'd lost her mind. But the truth was simpler — she didn't know if she could sit here, in this version of the world, knowing there might be a way to undo it.

She slipped the photo back into the glove compartment, closed it gently, and rested her hand on the ignition.

2 Days Later

Location: Upstate New York - Avengers Compound

The drive from Alexandria had been long enough for Serena to second-guess herself three separate times. By the time the Compound came into view, a sleek sprawl of glass and steel against the tree line, she'd cycled through doubt, annoyance, and a grudging acceptance that she was here — whether she liked what that meant or not.

The Porsche purred up the winding drive, sunlight sliding across its black lacquer. She spotted them before she even rolled to a stop — Steve and Tony, standing a few yards from the entrance. Their body language was... tentative. The kind that only came from years of disagreements and something too close to respect to kill completely.

She slowed, catching the exact moment Tony extended the shield. Steve took it, fingers brushing the vibranium edge like it was an old friend he'd thought lost forever.

Serena couldn't help herself. She rolled the window down as she eased the car into park beside Tony's Audi and called out,

"You two finally grew up."

Tony's head turned first, the corners of his mouth twitching into something halfway between amusement and a smirk.

"Well, if it isn't Langley's very own Black Widow knock-off. What'd you do, follow the sound of unresolved emotional tension?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Better than following the trail of your ego."

Steve coughed into his fist, clearly suppressing a laugh.

Serena pushed open the driver's door and stepped out, the all-black athleisure catching the late-morning light — fitted jacket, leggings, understated but expensive sneakers. Her hair was tied back in a no-nonsense knot, aviators shielding her eyes.

Tony's gaze flicked over her once before he deadpanned, "Where's G.I. Joe?"

She didn't need to ask who he meant. "Not coming," she said simply, walking around the hood to join them.

"Shame. I was looking forward to the other Pierce lecturing me about my moral compass."

"I'll give you the condensed version later," she replied flatly.

Tony's smirk deepened. "Well, it's good to see you, Barbie." He paused, tilting his head like he was correcting himself. "Oh, sorry — Director Barbie now. My mistake."

Serena rolled her eyes, lips twitching despite herself. "You done?"

"Not even close," Tony said, turning toward the Compound. "But I'm pacing myself. Come on in before I start charging for the reunion tour."

As he walked inside, Steve lingered, the weight of the shield still in his grip.

Serena glanced at him, half-smiling. "You look like you just ran into an old flame."

He chuckled once. "Something like that. How'd you manage to get here without your brother staging an intervention?"

"That," she said, "took a very big bribe to get Everett to watch the house and Meredith for me."

Steve frowned slightly. "Wait... Everett likes Meredith."

"That's what I thought," she replied with a small shrug. "But apparently his definition of 'like' stops at being woken up at six a.m. by a ninety-pound golden retriever trying to share his pillow."

Steve grinned faintly, then studied her. "You almost didn't come."

She hesitated, the smirk fading. "Part of me still doesn't want to be here."

"What changed your mind?"

Her eyes lifted to his. "Nick. He said every time I've tried to settle down, I inch back toward the field. That maybe I should stop pretending otherwise."

"That's... blunt," Steve said carefully.

She huffed a quiet laugh. "He's my brother. Blunt is our love language. But... he's not wrong. I do want to settle, Steve. I want a life that's ours. But I also want to finish the job."

The quiet between them was full, heavy. Steve's hand shifted on the shield before he stepped closer, his free arm curling around her in a firm, steady hug.

She let herself lean into it for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and the faint trace of leather from his jacket.

Of course, that's when Tony reappeared in the doorway.

"Aww, look at you two. If I'd known we were doing Hallmark Channel auditions today, I'd have brought a camera."

Serena stepped back, turning just enough to glare at him. "Do you ever stop?"

"Only when I'm asleep," he replied, utterly unfazed. "You want a lab set up while you're here?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation.

Tony tilted his head. "Any special requests? Or do I just stock it with the usual spy toys and questionable ethics?"

"I need five different species of venomous snakes," she said plainly. "Not cobras."

Tony blinked. "That's oddly specific. And a little serial-killer chic. But yeah, I can get them in a couple days."

Steve's brows drew together. "Why snakes?"

Serena met his gaze evenly. "If I'm going back in time, I need a piece of my past."

His eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. "You're going to synthesize new neurotoxins."

She gave a small, sharp nod. "I'm not walking into the past empty-handed."

Steve didn't argue. But the look in his eyes said he understood exactly what that meant.

And for the first time since she'd arrived, Serena felt a flicker of certainty settle in her chest.

 

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, or predictions!

Chapter 54: Chapter 54

Present Day

Location: Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

The Compound was already humming with activity by the time Serena stepped into the operations wing. Bruce and Rocket were prepping for their journey to New Asgard, running diagnostics on the shuttle they'd modified for deep atmospheric entry. Rocket was swearing up a storm about Earth tech, and Bruce was calmly ignoring him in that uniquely Banner way—one eyebrow raised, patience unshaken, arms folded across his chest as he listened without comment.

Serena offered them a quick nod as she passed, dressed casually in black jeans, a fitted olive jacket, and a soft gray tee. Her boots were silent on the polished floor. She had a sleek duffle slung over one shoulder—light, but well-packed. Just enough to survive Tokyo if everything went sideways.

Steve was waiting for her just outside the hangar, arms crossed, eyes scanning the Quinjet that was warming up on the platform. He looked steady, calm—but she knew better. The tension in his shoulders gave him away. He had that look he always got before a mission: not fear, exactly—more like focused dread. The kind you carried when you were responsible for too much.

When he saw her, he pushed off the wall and walked toward her.

She beat him to it. “Let me guess. This is the part where you run through the list?”

Steve stopped a few feet in front of her, crossing his arms again. “You remember the list?”

Serena smirked. “Do I breathe?”

He gave her the look. The one that said be serious, but she wasn’t done.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she recited, ticking the items off on her fingers. “Don’t get shot. Don’t stab anyone unless absolutely necessary. Don’t antagonize international law enforcement. Don’t fall off any buildings. Don’t trust Yakuza. Don’t forget who you are. And for the love of God, don’t touch any unknown substances even if they look fun.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, jaw twitching. “That’s not the list.”

“That’s my version.”

“Well, it’s wrong.”

“Is it though?”

Steve stepped closer, dropping his voice. “Honey, I’m serious.”

She sobered, just a touch. “I know.”

“You haven’t been in the field in over five years, and you haven't ran Ops like this in almost 7” he said, softer now. “Not since Berlin.”

The memory slid between them, uninvited. That stairwell. That loss. The ache neither of them talked about.

She nodded, gently. “I remember.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he just exhaled and reached for her hand.

“Just come back to me,” he said, low.

“I will.” Her voice caught slightly. “You’d be lost without me.”

“True,” he admitted. “I’d have no one to explain TikTok to me.”

“Or keep you from stabbing Tony.”

“Or stop you from stabbing Tony,” he corrected.

They stood in silence for a beat, hand in hand, the Quinjet humming behind them.

Then, softly, she added, “We’re going to try and bring everyone back, Steve. All of them. Including your people. And mine.”

“I know.”

Serena squeezed his arm, then stepped back, heading toward the Quinjet where Natasha was already waiting at the ramp — dressed in jeans and a black raincoat, her red hair tied back in a low, neat twist.

The engine hummed to life as Serena took her seat beside her, strapping in while checking her gear one more time. The flight wasn’t long, not with Stark tech behind them, but it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Natasha tilted her head, watching Serena fidget with the hem of her sleeve.

“You’re jumpy,” she said finally.

Serena didn’t look at her. “No, I’m not.”

“You never fidget,” Nat said evenly. “Not unless you’re bored. Or lying. And I know you’re not bored.”

Serena sighed, finally leaning back against the headrest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admitted. “It’s not nerves exactly, and I’m not scared but… there’s this pit in my stomach. Like something’s off.”

“Off how?”

“Like the air’s too thin. Like I’m about to jump into something that shouldn’t be possible. And if we screw this up…” She trailed off. “I don’t know what happens.”

Natasha nodded, thoughtful. “You’ve always been the one with the plan.”

“And this time I don’t have one,” Serena finished.

Natasha glanced out the window, watching the clouds shift beneath them. “You’re not alone in this.”

Serena offered a faint smile. “Yeah, well. Let’s hope Barton still remembers he’s not alone either.”

Location: Tokyo, Japan – Rain-soaked Rooftop District

The Quinjet touched down in the outskirts of Tokyo, in the shadow of silent skyscrapers and neon reflections. It was raining — not a drizzle, but a steady, cold downpour that flattened Serena’s hair under her hood and soaked through her sleeves almost immediately.

They moved on foot through narrow alleys, past shuttered clubs and blood-slick pavement. The smell of smoke and metal hung in the air like a warning.

Natasha led the way, boots splashing softly through puddles, and Serena followed close behind. They didn’t speak — didn’t need to.

The scene unfolded in front of them before they even fully cleared the alley.

Yakuza bodies lay strewn across the concrete like discarded playing cards. Swords clattered from lifeless hands, and blood swirled in the rainwater as it slithered toward the drains.

At the center of the carnage stood Clint Barton — soaked in rain, breathing hard, and gripping a blade still dripping with red.

He turned at the sound of footsteps. His eyes were wild. Empty. Not the man they knew.

He raised the blade halfway before freezing.

Natasha stepped forward, slowly, carefully — into the dim pool of flickering light from the nearby sign.

A large black umbrella shielded her from the rain, but her expression was open. Calm.

They stared at each other. The distance between them felt like years.

Clint’s voice was hoarse when he spoke. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Natasha’s reply was immediate. “Neither should you.”

“I’ve got a job to do.”

“That what you’re calling this?”

She took another step forward. Clint stiffened. He didn’t lower the blade.

“Killing these people,” Natasha said quietly, “isn’t going to bring your family back.”

There was a beat — just enough for the rain to surge louder around them.

Then she added, “We found something. A chance, maybe...”

“Don’t.” Clint’s voice cracked, but it was still sharp. “Don’t say it.”

“Don’t what?” she asked, her tone unwavering.

“Give me hope,” he said, almost a whisper. His eyes dropped. “Don’t give me that.”

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t give it sooner.”

Serena stood behind Natasha, silent until now. She took a small step forward, her voice lower, calmer.

“You’re not the only one who lost everything,” she said. “But if there’s even a one-percent chance of getting it back, I’m not walking away.”

Clint looked at her. Really looked at her. For a moment, the mask cracked. The blood. The blade. All of it felt like a ghost clinging to his skin.

Natasha stepped forward again. Closer now.

The sword slipped from Clint’s hand.

And then, slowly, painfully — like every step took a year off his soul — he moved into her arms.

His body sagged against hers, and Natasha held him tightly.

Serena watched as the rain softened, and for the first time since arriving, the air didn’t feel quite so heavy.

She stepped forward, her voice barely audible over the storm.

“Let’s go home.”

And this time, he didn’t argue.

Location: Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

The Quinjet landed at dawn, wheels kissing the tarmac with a low, dull hum that reverberated through the compound hangar. The sky above was smeared with orange and charcoal grey, the sun struggling to break through a low band of clouds.

Serena stepped off the ramp first, her hood still up, hands jammed in the pockets of her jacket. Behind her, Clint followed quietly, eyes still distant, shoulders still tight. Natasha gave him a small, steady glance — a silent acknowledgment that he’d shown up, and that was enough for now.

The hangar doors yawned open with their usual hydraulic hiss.

And what greeted them made Serena stop cold.

Bruce was back — that much wasn’t surprising — but standing beside him, looking like a twisted parody of himself, was Thor.

His hair was long and tangled. His beard had grown wild and streaked with what looked like chip crumbs. His sweatshirt barely covered the unmistakable roundness of a beer gut that had no place on a god, along with the ratty red robe he was wearing, the pajama pants he was wearing, along with his socks and sandals.

Rocket trailed behind them with a scowl and a half-eaten slice of pizza, muttering something about “Vikings being dramatic.”

Bruce offered a sheepish wave. “We, uh… found him.”

Serena blinked, slowly. “Did you find him at the bottom of a barrel?”

“Several barrels,” Rocket said, licking pizza grease off his fingers.

Thor raised a hand in vague greeting. “Friends. Hello.” He blinked blearily at them. “I have returned.”

“You sure?” Natasha muttered, stepping past her.

“Long story,” Bruce added. “Kind of a… grief spiral wrapped in a keg stand...mixed with Fortnite”

“Lovely,” Serena said dryly.

But even the sarcasm in her voice couldn’t mask the weight pressing behind her ribs — that same unease, low and gnawing. It wasn’t quite fear. Not even anxiety. It was deeper. Like her instincts were tracking something she couldn’t see.

She flexed her fingers once, forcing it down.

Tony entered the hangar a beat later, already mid-rant.

“Alright, Barbie, your lab’s prepped. Room temperature set to your exact demands — because apparently you’re allergic to anything over 72.3 degrees. Lighting calibrated to ‘moodily menacing’ as requested. And—” he waved a tablet in the air, “—I’ve wrangled your snake order, which is definitely not something I ever wanted to say out loud.”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “You got all five?”

“Yep. Daboia russelii, Bothrops atrox, Bungarus caeruleus, and of course, the charming little Oxyuranus microlepidotus. Which, for the record, tried to bite one of the handlers and then hissed at me in a way that felt personal.”

She gave him a faint, approving smirk. “That means she likes you.”

“I’m gonna develop a venom-based ulcer,” Tony muttered. “Anyway, the lab’s yours. Do not kill anyone in there. The insurance paperwork is murder.”

“I need help synthesizing the neurotoxins,” she said, already walking beside him, eyes scanning the compound. “Stabilizing the agents will require full-spectrum cooling and high-speed molecular agitation.”

Tony raised a brow. “Translation?”

“I need more hands.”

“Oh no,” he said flatly. “No no no no no—”

“Scott’s already volunteered,” she said innocently.

Tony groaned. “You mean the man-child who once got stuck in the quantum equivalent of a vending machine?”

“And Rhodey’s on board too.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare use the ‘he’s a pilot so he understands science adjacent things’ excuse.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking it.”

Before Tony could launch into a full tirade, Clint appeared behind them, wiping his hands on a rag like he’d just finished dismantling a motorcycle. Or a memory.

“I’ll help.”

Tony blinked. “You want to handle weaponized snake juice? You?”

Clint shrugged. “Figure it’s less risky than letting Lang near it unsupervised.”

Serena turned to him, surprised. “You sure?”

Clint nodded, eyes steady. “I need something to do with my hands that isn’t… you know. Murder.”

Tony threw his arms in the air. “Great. Wonderful. We’ve officially reached the part of the plan where PTSD and poisonous reptiles share lab space. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m monitoring everything,” Serena said simply. “This isn’t some weekend chemistry set. It’s targeted. Efficient. I want something to take back with me in case this time travel circus goes sideways.”

Tony sighed. “Fine. But if I see even one vial glowing, I’m pulling the plug.”

“Duly noted,” Serena said, already heading toward the lower labs with Clint beside her.

As she walked, she tried not to focus on the growing pit in her stomach. It wasn’t just nerves. It wasn’t just the uncertainty of the mission.

Something was coming.

She couldn’t say how she knew. Only that her instincts — the same ones that had saved her life on half a dozen continents — were whispering a warning she couldn’t decipher.

Maybe it was nothing.

But maybe… it was the beginning of something bigger.

Something none of them were ready for.

Later that Day

The lab was warm — not hot, but heated to a very particular temperature that kept the delicate balance between humidity and control. The air shimmered slightly around the climate-controlled terrariums lining the left wall, each one containing one of Serena’s venomous “darlings.” A soft ambient hum came from the equipment, but otherwise, the room was silent save for the occasional rustle of scaled movement.

Serena stood at the center workstation, sleeves rolled, pristine white lab coat on, black nitrile gloves snug against her skin, and a pale yellow Bothrops atrox snake draped calmly around her neck like a silk scarf.

Scott Lang stood at least seven feet away, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looked pale. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it again… that thing is on your actual body.”

Serena, without looking up, gently ran her fingers under the snake’s jaw to lift its head and guide it toward a milking tube. She cooed softly in French, voice barely above a whisper.

“Doucement, mon trésor… doucement, voilà.” (Easy, my darling...easy, here it is)

The snake obediently flicked its tongue, then settled onto the tempered glass platform. Serena eased the fangs gently toward the collection vial.

“She’s not going to bite unless she’s threatened,” Serena said evenly. “Snakes respond to energy. Yours is screaming.”

“My energy is screaming because she has fangs longer than my fingers,” Scott muttered. “And she hisses like she knows I didn’t do my taxes.”

In the corner, Clint was leaning against the counter with a white-scaled krait coiled loosely around one wrist. Unlike Scott, he looked entirely unbothered — even amused — as he used a pipette to drop venom samples onto a slide. “You’d think you’d be more comfortable around things that can kill you. You fought a guy with a metal arm and a raccoon with anger issues.”

“That was different.” Scott frowned. “Those guys didn’t slither.”

Across the room, Rhodey stood by one of the enclosures, visibly sweating. He was holding a laminated card titled Handling Protocol: Bungarus caeruleus, and he had not stopped rereading it for the past five minutes.

“I don’t think this one likes me,” Rhodey said warily as the snake inside flicked its tongue and rose up, flattening its head.

“She doesn’t,” Serena said without missing a beat.

“Comforting,” Rhodey muttered. “That’s real comforting.”

Serena turned slightly, lifting the filled venom vial and carefully securing it in the centrifuge. “Snakes are perceptive. She knows you’re nervous.”

“I’m nervous because she looks like she wants to eat me,” Rhodey said, stepping back quickly.

Serena turned her attention to the next terrarium. “Je viens, mon ange,” she murmured to the glossy black Russell's viper within. “Pas d’inquiétude.” (I'm coming, my angel. Don't worry.)

Scott blinked. “Okay, how are you even doing this? Like, where do you even learn to milk venomous snakes without dying?”

Serena, now gently tapping on the viper’s glass in a rhythmic pattern, glanced over her shoulder.

“Everett taught me.”

Scott looked confused. “Everett? Everett Ross? Everett Ross is your uncle?”

She nodded. “I was still in the CIA. He was stationed in Africa at the time. I did my first neurotoxin synth there. Learned the rest in Langley under classified training.”

Scott blinked slowly. “You know, you say that like it’s a normal family bonding activity.”

Clint chimed in, barely looking up. “Better than my uncle. Taught me how to field dress a deer at age seven...but based on what I've heard from you and Hill, that's the most Everett Ross story I've ever heard.”

“Okay, I’m officially never going to Thanksgiving with either of your families,” Scott muttered.

Rhodey, watching Serena extract venom with elegant ease, raised a brow. “But you don’t use these anymore, right? Thought the ‘Viper’ days were over and the Director Pierce days were in.”

Serena slid the sealed venom vial into the stabilizing chamber, then removed her gloves and looked up at him. “They are. But this mission isn’t like anything we’ve ever done.”

She walked over to the synthesis station, tapped a few commands into the console, then glanced back at the snakes. “We don’t know what we’re going to run into back in time. Hydra. Chitauri. Or worse. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Rhodey studied her for a moment. “You think it’ll come to that?”

“I think if we’re rewriting time,” she said, “we should carry every weapon we’ve ever trusted.”

Before anyone could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hall, followed by a familiar voice.

“How's the murder-juice arsenal coming along?” Tony  called as he rounded the corner with Steve at his side.

They both stopped just outside the glass window that overlooked the lab — and Tony raised his eyebrows high enough to disappear under his sunglasses.

“Yep. That’s a snake. That’s several snakes. And yep, that’s Scott standing on a bench like a middle schooler during a fire drill.”

“I’m not on the bench,” Scott snapped from atop a metal stool. “I’m hovering near the bench.”

“Semantics,” Tony said, opening the door.

Steve walked in behind him, jaw twitching as he surveyed the room. “Looks… busy.”

“It’s fine,” Serena said. “Everyone’s got gloves and protocols. It’s under control.”

That’s exactly when Rhodey dropped the Inland Taipan.

The table rattled. A hiss filled the air.

“Nope nope NOPE NOPE—” Scott launched himself backward onto a bench, limbs flailing like a startled cartoon character. “I knew this would happen!”

Clint didn’t flinch. He casually hit record on his phone and murmured 'this is going on TikTok'. 

Rhodey froze, arms up like the snake had a pistol, all while the long taipan slithered across the floor with eerie calm.

“Shit—”

“Don’t move,” Serena said quietly.

Tony, who was about to step further in, stopped mid-stride. “You know what? I’m good right here.”

Steve stood still, not alarmed — just intensely focused. “Do you need—?”

“No,” Serena said gently, kneeling to the floor. “No sudden movement.”

“Everything I’m doing is sudden movement!” Scott squeaked from atop the lab bench.

The snake hissed, tongue flicking as it coiled near Rhodey’s foot. She lowered herself slowly, speaking again in French.

“Je suis là, ma belle. Viens ici, douce fille.” (I'm here, my dear. Come here, sweet girl.)

The taipan paused. Then, as if responding to the warmth in her tone, it slithered forward — not toward the chaos, but to her.

She reached out, gloved hand steady, and lifted it in one fluid motion. The snake coiled gently in her grip, head resting near her wrist as if resigned.

Serena stood, unbothered, and guided it back into the enclosure with effortless calm.

She turned, glancing between Scott (still cowering), Rhodey (still stunned), and Clint (still filming).

“Drama queens,” she muttered.

Scott let out a long, shaky breath. “This is my actual nightmare.”

She glanced at Rhodey with a faint smirk. “You dropped Sabine.”

“I noticed,” Rhodey muttered, exhaling hard. “Pretty sure she glared at me.”

“She did,” Serena said. “She’s dramatic.”

Scott slowly peeked over the edge of the bench. “Is she… back in the tank?”

“Yes, Scott. You can come down now.”

Tony folded his arms. “Y’know, I’ve built suits that could vaporize a moon, but nothing here will haunt my dreams like watching you speak French to a murder noodle while Scott re-enacts Arachnophobia.”

Steve finally smiled. “This is impressive.”

Serena shrugged, lifting Sabine carefully back into her enclosure. “It’s just what I do.”

Tony tilted his head, still watching her closely — the way she moved, the way the snakes obeyed her. “I’m not saying you’re scary, but if I ever build an AI based on your lab presence, I’m definitely programming in ‘menacing elegance.’”

“You forgot ‘insanely hot,’” Clint murmured, making Serena roll her eyes giving him a shove. "Someone has to be Nick, since he's not here."

Tony snapped his fingers. “Right. ‘Deadly Chic: The Serena Pierce OS’. Coming to a StarkPhone near you.”

Scott climbed off the bench, brushing off his jeans. “I’m never gonna sleep again.”

Serena turned back to her workstation, adjusting the venom chamber. She didn’t say anything — but her smirk lingered, subtle and lethal.

The fangs of the past had never truly left her.

Even if she didn’t quite feel like herself.

Not yet.

But soon.

 

Notes:

Next chapter is the Time-Heist test and planning.

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, or predictions, and fill free to make your predictions about what is to occur!

Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Present Day

Location: Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

The air in the testing bay was colder than the rest of the Compound. A deliberate choice — to keep the tech from overheating — but it also had the side effect of making the place feel like a morgue. That wasn’t helping anyone’s nerves.

Clint stood alone on the Quantum Platform, the silver-and-red time suit fitting like it had been built into his skin. His hands flexed once at his sides, then stilled. He wasn’t fidgeting. He was just… waiting.

Serena watched him from across the room, one arm wrapped around herself as she still didn't feel right. She still felt off. She’d seen Clint walk into firefights without flinching, but this — this was different. They didn’t know what would happen. No one wanted to say die out loud, but it hung there, unspoken, pressing down on every breath.

Bruce was at the console, massive fingers moving with surprising precision across the delicate interface. Screens lit his green face in a pale wash of light. Rocket perched on the counter beside him, tail flicking in impatience. Rhodey stood to the left, arms crossed tight, his jaw locked. Nebula was beside him, expression unreadable. Thor leaned against the far wall with Stormbreaker in hand, his eyes still shadowed from whatever storm he’d been drinking his way through.

Steve was at the edge of the platform, as steady as a mountain, but Serena caught the subtle movement of his thumb rubbing over his palm — a nervous tic he probably thought no one noticed.

“All right, Clint,” Smart Hulk said finally, voice calm, even. “Your going to transport back, walk around for about an hour, and then come back. To you it'll feel like an hour while your there, to us, it'll feel like a couple seconds. Going Quantum in three… two… one…”

Clint’s gaze flicked toward them. Not to anyone in particular — maybe to all of them at once. Then he nodded, a small, determined tilt of his head.

In an instant, his body shimmered, stretched, shrank—

—vanished.

The platform was empty.

The silence that followed was louder than the hum of the machines. Serena’s breath caught before she realized she’d been holding it.

Steve took a half step forward. Rhodey’s shoulders went rigid. Thor shifted his grip on Stormbreaker.

“Readings are good,” Bruce murmured, eyes scanning the monitors. “Almost… almost…”

The air above the platform rippled.

And then Clint was back.

He stumbled once, boots catching on the pad, but stayed upright. His eyes were wide, blinking like he’d just stepped out of a dream.

Tony and Natasha were already moving, crossing the floor in quick strides.

“Are you all right?” Natasha said, her voice low but urgent. She caught his arm, steadying him. “Hey, look at me. You okay?”

Tony’s gaze swept over the suit, then back to Clint’s face. “Tell me something good…”

Clint looked at them, his eyes shining — not with fear, but something far more dangerous: hope. His voice was rough when it came.

“It worked.” He swallowed, lifted a gloved hand, and in it… a worn leather baseball mitt. “It worked.”

Behind them, Steve exhaled slowly, relief softening the set of his shoulders. Bruce’s face split into a grin. Nebula tilted her head, her cybernetic eye narrowing like she was committing every frame to memory. Rhodey let out a long breath through his nose. Scott, who’d been lingering near the stairs, looked like he might start dancing. Thor’s mouth curved in the faintest smile.

Serena had moved before she realized it, stepping up beside Natasha. She looked at the mitt in Clint’s hands — an anchor from another time, another life — and then at his face.

“You saw them, didn’t you?” she asked quietly.

Clint’s throat worked. He didn’t answer with words, but his eyes told her everything.

Rocket broke the silence from across the room, his voice high and gleeful. “Holy shit. We’re freaking time travelers.”

Serena’s stomach twisted — a mix of awe, dread, and inevitability.

Because if this was real, if they could actually do it…

Then everything they’d lost was suddenly within reach.

And everything they risked was about to get a whole lot bigger.

Later That Night

The common room still smelled faintly of solder and machine oil from the day's work in the hangar. Screens along the far wall glowed with the paused frames of mission schematics—stones highlighted in pulsing colors, dates and coordinates mapped in precise Stark-tech overlays.

Tomorrow, they would plan the impossible.

Tonight, apparently, they were idiots.

The bar in the corner—an actual polished-oak bar Tony had imported on a whim—was lined with mismatched bottles: Asgardian mead in crystalline decanters, Stark-branded whiskey, a half-empty bottle of sake Rocket had liberated from “somewhere you don’t wanna know,” and a cooler of cheap beer Clint swore tasted better than anything fancy.

Serena was propped against the karaoke stand, one hand loosely holding the mic, the other braced on Clint’s shoulder as they laughed their way through a slightly slurred, but shockingly enthusiastic rendition of Hard out Here for a Pimp.

Serena—boots off, hair falling out of her braid, cheeks flushed—was absolutely committing to the chorus.

"You know it's hard out here for a pimp, when he tryin’ to get this money for the rent, for the Cadillacs and gas money spent, because a whole lotta bitches talkin' shit."

Her voice was surprisingly steady despite the wine glass still balanced on the edge of the karaoke console. Clint, meanwhile, was hammering through the verses like a man with something to prove.

"In my eyes I done seen some crazy thangs in the streets. Gotta couple hoes workin' on the changes for me."

Tony, leaning against the bar with a lowball glass in hand, slowly turned his head toward Steve.

Steve—arms folded, jaw set—was watching the spectacle with the same expression he wore whenever Sam tried to explain memes.

Tony gestured at the stage with his drink. “Tell me you’re seeing this. Please tell me I’m not hallucinating from Stark whiskey fumes.”

Steve’s gaze stayed on Serena and Clint, who were now attempting a synchronized step to the beat that looked vaguely like a two-person combat drill gone wrong. “You’re seeing it.”

“They’re… this drunk?”

Steve’s reply was dry. “Yes.”

From the couch, Natasha, Nebula, Bruce, and Rocket had taken up the role of peanut gallery.

“Honestly?” Nat murmured, smirking. “Seen worse from Barton.”

Nebula tilted her head. “This is… music?”

“It’s art,” Rocket said, tail flicking as he raised a beer in salute. “Pure art.”

On the far side of the room, Thor and Rhodey—both several drinks past the point of dignity—were hooting like frat boys at a championship game.

“YES, SING IT, SMALL MORTAL MAN!” Thor bellowed, slamming his mug down hard enough to make the bottles rattle.

“Go on, Serena! Get it, girl!” Rhodey called, laughing so hard he had to lean on the pool table.

Clint hit the final verse with the commitment of a man storming a Hydra base, and Serena leaned into the last chorus like she was headlining Madison Square Garden.

The song ended to an uproar of cheers from the drunk half of the room.

Tony shook his head slowly. “I always knew Barton and Barbie were thugs.”

Steve didn’t even look away from Serena as he answered. “Mhm.”

Before anyone could catch their breath, Clint pointed at Scott—who was already leaning against the bar, grinning like an accomplice.

“You’re up,” Clint said.

“Hell yeah I am,” Scott replied, grabbing a mic. “But only if we do Gangsta’s Paradise.”

“Deal,” Serena said without hesitation, already scrolling through the karaoke list.

The beat dropped, and suddenly Scott and Clint were alternating verses, Scott doing his best Coolio impression while Clint somehow managed to sound like he’d been preparing for this moment his entire life. Serena—now with her wine glass abandoned—handled the chorus with a slow, sultry edge that was entirely too good for the room they were in.

Rocket, nodding along with a smug grin, muttered, “Quill never had music like this.”

Halfway through, Scott went all in on his verse, pacing like a preacher at a revival.

Tony’s hands went up like he was physically surrendering to the absurdity. “No, seriously—how did we get here? How did we become this stupid?”

Steve had his head in his hands now. “Don’t ask me.”

Nebula looked over, deadpan. “Why are they like this?”

Tony pointed like he was labeling evidence. “War criminal.” He aimed at Clint. “Actual criminal.” He jabbed a finger toward Serena. “Dad was a terrorist.”

Nebula’s expression didn’t change. “Sounds fair.”

The final chorus hit. Serena’s voice carried through the room, smooth and unshaken despite the drinks. Clint and Scott brought the verses home, ending with a dramatic, drawn-out final note that wasn’t in the original but felt necessary in the moment.

When the applause (and drunken cheering) finally died down, Serena crossed the room, dropped into Steve’s lap without asking, and tipped her head back against his shoulder.

“Am I Beyoncé?” she asked, grinning up at him.

Steve’s mouth quirked in a small smile. “You’re the Beyoncé to my Jay-Z.”

“That makes sense,” she murmured. “Since you cheated on me too.”

Tony choked on his drink. Steve blinked, caught between offense and confusion.

Before anyone could escalate, Scott was ushering Clint toward the mic again.

“This one’s for my beloved Hope!” Scott announced proudly.

“Who the fuck is Hope?” Rhodey asked, eyebrows knitting.

Scott didn’t answer—the opening notes of Usher’s Burn drowned out the question.

The first verse was fine. Passable. But then he hit the infamous bridge.

"Oh, oh oh, oh, man I don't know what I'm gonna do without my boo, you been gone for too long, it's been fifty-'leven days umpteen hours, I’ma be burnin’ til you return…"

Clint and Serena exchanged a slow look. The alcohol in their systems didn’t completely vanish, but sobriety was definitely creeping in like a cold draft.

“Oh, no,” Serena muttered.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed grimly.

On the couch, Rocket winced. “This is war crime territory.”

By the time Scott hit the second chorus, half the room was groaning, the other half openly laughing, and Thor was swaying with his mug, oblivious.

When the song finally ended, there was a beat of silence before Natasha deadpanned, “Never again.”

Scott, panting slightly, just grinned. “Thanks. That one was from the heart.”

“Keep it there,” Clint muttered, heading for the bar.

Serena just leaned back into Steve’s chest, shaking her head. Tomorrow, they’d plan the impossible. Tonight… she’d probably regret all of this in the morning.

The Next Day

The briefing room felt different now. Not lighter — no one here could afford that — but charged. Like the air itself was humming under the weight of what they were about to attempt.

A massive holo-board floated at the front, casting faint blue light across the group. Across the top:

MIND. SPACE. TIME. POWER. REALITY. SOUL.

Each word shimmered above the projection of its artifact: Loki’s scepter, the Tesseract, the Eye of Agamotto, the Orb, the swirling red mass of the Aether, and finally… a question mark.

Serena sat at the edge of the table, leaning forward, elbows braced on her knees. She kept her gaze on the board, but that restless knot in her chest hadn’t eased since Clint’s test run. The science was holding, the theory was solid — but something about all of this still felt too good to be true.

Steve stepped forward, his voice steady but clipped. “Okay. Now that we’ve got how, we’re going to need where and when.”

Nebula stood near the back, arms crossed, metal fingers tapping against her forearm. Tony lounged in a chair, already drumming impatiently on the armrest. Rhodey, Scott, Bruce, Rocket, Natasha, and Clint were gathered in a loose semicircle, all eyes on the board.

Steve continued, “Most folks here have encountered at least one of the six Infinity Stones—”

Tony cut in, his tone dry as dust. “I think you mean nearly been killed by one of the six Infinity Stones.”

Scott raised a cautious hand. “I haven’t.” When everyone turned toward him, he lifted both palms. “Just… saying.”

Bruce glanced over from the console. “Regardless, we’ve only got enough Pym Particles for one round trip, each. And the Stones have been in a lot of places throughout history.”

“Our history,” Tony added. “Not all of them are going to be a fun drop-in.”

“Which means,” Clint said, “we’ve got to pick our targets.”

“Exactly.” Steve tapped the word REALITY on the board. “Let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do we know?”

Everyone turned toward Thor — slumped in his chair, head bowed like a man who had fought his last battle long ago.

“Is he asleep?” Natasha asked.

"Possibly." Serena said with a shrug.

“No. I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” Rhodey muttered.

The holo dissolved to Thor, still sulking, staring at the projection of the Aether Container. Under REALITY, locations scrolled in the corner: SVARTALFHEIM, KNOWHERE, LONDON.

“The Aether’s not a stone, someone in the past just called him a stone before” Thor began, his voice slower, rougher than before. “It’s more of an angry sludge. Um here is the interesting story though, about Aether. My grandfather many years ago had to hide the stone from Dark Elves. Wooo. Scary beings."

Clint and Rhodey shared a look of disbelief at how Thor was acting.

Thor's cybernetic eye drifted off in the wrong direction. He thumped his head with the heel of his hand until it clicked back into alignment.

“So...Jane, actually, an old flame of mine, you know, she stuck her hand in a rock this one time and then the Aether stuck itself inside her."

Serena shared a glance at Steve and mouthed: "What the fuck?"

Nebula and Bruce looked confused, Tony looked in disbelief that this was actually happening, Rocket put his paw to his head and shook his head, and Natasha put her head in her hands...Scott on the other hand was smiling and nodding along, almost like he was enjoying it.

 "And she became very very sick and so I I took her to Asgard, which is where I'm from and we had to try and fix her." Thor continued, now getting somber, and sounding like he was about to cry. "We were dating at the time I had to introduce her to my mother...who is dead...and you know Jane and I aren't even dating anymore so...”

That's when Tony intervened the situation, and grabbed Thor by the shoulder to try and get him to stop talking. 

"Alright buddy you made your point." Tony began. "What do you want? Eggs? Breakfast?"

Thor shook his head and smiled, reversing the tears. "No, no, I'd like a Bloody Mary."

The silence after that was awkward enough to feel like a physical draft. Serena caught Steve’s eye and gave the slightest shake of her head — this was not the man to send into the past without someone watching him closely.

The holo shifted again.

POWER. The Orb hovered in the display, its history scrolling beside it: MORAG ?–2014, KYLN 2014, XANDAR 2014–2018.

Rocket slurped from a container of lo mein, pacing across the table like it was his own personal command post. “Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag.”

Bruce looked up from his pint of Hunka Hulka Burning Fudge. “That’s a person?”

“It’s a planet,” Rocket said flatly. “Quill was a person.”

Scott squinted. “Wait, like… a planet in space?”

Rocket pinched his cheek with a wicked grin. “Aw, look. It’s like a puppy, all happy and everything. You want to go to space, puppy? I’ll take you to space.”

Serena smirked faintly at that, though the unease in her stomach didn’t budge. It was all too clean, too easy. Map the Stones. Grab them. Come home. Undo the greatest tragedy in modern history. She’d spent her entire life learning that clean plans usually hid the messiest ends.

The holo blinked again, now casting an eerie golden hue.

SOUL. No artifact here — just the word and the location: VORMIR.

Nebula’s voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut the air. “Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir.”

Natasha frowned. “What's a Vormir?”

“A planet where death rules.” Nebula’s pause was deliberate, heavy. “It’s the place where Thanos murdered my sister.”

The words landed hard, the silence after them louder than any reaction could be.

Scott swallowed audibly. “Not it.”

That almost pulled a smile from Serena — almost. But the knot in her chest only tightened.

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “We’re talking about rewriting the timeline, storming planets we barely survived the first time, and walking straight into whatever trap the universe hasn’t sprung yet. We need contingencies.”

Steve looked at her. “You think it’s a trap?”

“I think the universe doesn’t like being rewritten,” she said. “And we’re about to give it every reason to bite back.”

No one argued with her.

And that, somehow, was the part that worried her most.

Later, Tony, Bruce, Natasha and Serena all were laying around in the conference room, trying to figure out the Time Stone.

"So this Time Stone guy...what kind of doctor is he?" Natasha asked out of curiosity.

"Cross between ear-nose-and-throat meets rabbit-from-hat." Tony explained.

"Had a nice small place in the Village." Bruce mused.

"Yeah." Tony said in agreement. "Sullivan Street."

Serena frowned from her position on the floor...still not feeling right with herself.

"Bleecker." Bruce corrected.

"Sullivan and Bleecker. They're cross streets." Tony replied.

"Wait, he lived in New York?" Serena asked in disbelief.

"No, no, he lived in Toronto." Tony replied sarcastically.

"Guys...if we pick the right year...there were three stones in New York." Serena blurted out to the ceiling.

Everyone paused at the words that had just came out of mouth.

"Shut the front door." Bruce said sitting up off the floor.

Steve stepped into the center of the room, blocking the chaos of the holo-board from view. His voice carried with that quiet, unshakable authority only he could muster.

“Okay,” he began, “we have a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

When he stepped aside, the board was revealed — a mess of colored lines, six stones connecting to four locations, two years, and eleven names. Serena’s eyes moved over it slowly. Even knowing the plan, seeing it laid out like that felt… overwhelming.

It looked like the mind of a tactician and the fever dream of a madman had collided. And now it was theirs.

It was at dawn when it happened.

The first light of morning spilled across the hangar’s massive windows, washing the room in pale gold. Boots echoed against the polished floor as the team marched in, one by one, each clad in their new, stark-white time suits. The air thrummed with the low hum of the Quantum Platform.

Serena adjusted the strap across her chest, the faint click of her utility harness grounding her in the moment. Her stomach still carried that knot — the warning that wouldn’t go away — but there was no turning back now.

Steve’s voice echoed, calm and certain. “Five years ago, we lost. All of us.”

The team gathered at the platform’s edge. Serena stood between Tony and Scott, her knives resting light but ready at her hips, her freshly synthesized neurotoxins accompanying her as well.

“We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves.” Steve’s gaze swept across them, his voice steady. “But today we have a chance to take it all back.”

His eyes moved from group to group. Rhodey & Nebula. Nat & Clint. Thor & Rocket. Tony, Serena, & Scott.

“You have your teams and you have assignments. Get your stone, and get back here. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs.” He gripped the rim of his shield.

“Most of us are going back to places we know. That doesn’t mean we know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. Improvise, if you have to.” His gaze locked on Serena for just a heartbeat longer than the rest. She nodded once.

“This is the fight of our lives,” Steve said. “And we’re going to win. Whatever it takes.”

The platform fell quiet. The words settled in.

Rocket leaned toward Scott and whispered, “He’s pretty good at that…”

“I know, right!” Scott replied, grinning despite himself.

Tony nudged Bruce with an elbow. “All right, you heard the man. Stroke those keys, Jolly Green.”

Bruce grunted and began typing with a pencil that looked absurd in his massive hands. The pads beneath their feet lit up, one by one.

“Tracking beacons engaged,” Bruce said.

Clint patted his pocket, where a shrunken Benatar sat snug.

“You promise to bring that thing back in one piece?” Rocket asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, sure thing. I’ll do my best,” Clint replied.

“That’s pretty lame, as far as promises go,” Rocket muttered.

Bruce stepped up onto the platform, closing the lineup. The hum deepened, vibrating under their boots.

Natasha glanced around at the circle of familiar faces. “See you in a minute.”

“Actually,” Bruce began, “it’ll be closer to seven or eight microseconds, give or—”

The rest of his sentence vanished with them as the platform flared, their bodies stretching, twisting, shrinking away into nothing.

And then they were gone.

 

Notes:

Here we go people!

Serena is headed back to 2012...Battle of New York era.

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or ideas. And fill free to post your predictions of what happens next!

Chapter 56: Chapter 56

Past: 2012 - Battle of New York

The world flashed white.

The world warped.

One moment Serena was standing on the vibrating platform beside Steve, Tony, and Scott—then reality folded inward, colors collapsing into streaks, and her stomach lurched like she'd been yanked through a collapsing elevator shaft.

She landed hard on her knees.

God—" Serena's hand slapped against the cold brick of the alley wall as the world steadied. The nausea hit fast and mean. She bent forward, retracting her helmet just in time to throw up onto the cracked pavement.

Tony was already glancing back at her while retracting his nano-time suit. "Well, somebody's having a harder time with jet lag than the rest of us."

"I'm fine," Serena muttered, straightening slowly, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Her pulse was hammering. She'd been feeling off for days—tired, uncertain, unsettled—all due to the stress of the mission. "Just... first time traveling through history. Guess my stomach didn't get the memo."

Steve gave her a concerned look, but kept his tone calm. "Breathe, Ser. In through your nose."

Scott, meanwhile, was gawking at the skyline. "Oh man... oh man. This is 2012. I mean, I know it's 2012, but seeing it—"

 Above them, the deep whump-whump of alien craft filled the air, the scream of repulsors, and the smash of glass as a Leviathan tore past.

Tony jerked his thumb toward the street. "Okay, Park Avenue's that way. Let's huddle up. Suits off."

Everyone retracted their suits to reveal Bruce in his ginormous attire, Steve in his mission suit from 2012, Scott in his mission suit, Serena in her Avengers-issued Viper suit, and Tony in old SHIELD appeal.

Steve glanced around the group, steady. "We've all got our assignments. Two stones uptown, one stone down. Stay low, keep an eye on time—"

The ground shook.

A younger, angrier version of the Hulk — their Hulk, just from another lifetime — barreled down the street, roaring, smashing cars like soda cans.

Steve didn't even flinch. "And Bruce? Maybe smash a few things along the way. For appearances."

Bruce gave a long-suffering sigh, stripping off his shirt. "All right, but I have to say, it seems gratuitous." He made a lazy swipe at a car, denting the hood without enthusiasm. "Grrr... grrr..."

Serena couldn't help it—she smirked faintly. "Yeah, real terrifying."

Scott pointed toward the street. "Uh, so... we are gonna go out there, right? With the aliens and the giant metal space eels?"

Serena tightened the straps on her gloves, finally straightening. Her eyes tracked the chaos spilling down the avenue — explosions blooming like fireflowers against a sky crisscrossed with Chitauri chariots.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "We are."

The smoke thickened as they moved toward the street. Somewhere far above, the battle raged on. And as the ground trembled beneath her boots, Serena pushed aside the coil of unease in her chest.

There was no time for doubt now.

The four of them split at the mouth of the alley.

Tony and Scott took off toward the main street, slipping into the chaos with a precision born of experience and sheer nerves. Their destination — the Stark Tower penthouse — loomed above the skyline, its gleaming glass façade fractured by smoke and debris. If they could get high enough, they could track the flow of the Chitauri battle and plan the next moves.

Steve and Serena, however, had chosen the less glamorous path.

The stench hit first. A sour, stagnant cocktail of rust, oil, and brackish water. Steve dropped into the sewer access first, splashing ankle-deep in the muck, and offered Serena his hand down. She took it, grimacing as her boots hit the floor.

"You were in New York during the battle?" Steve asked, keeping his voice low as they began weaving through the tunnels toward a maintenance hatch inside the tower's lower levels.

"Yeah," Serena said, her tone almost casual — but there was a wry twist to her lips.

Steve glanced over at her. "Doing what?"

She smirked. "Not what you think."

He frowned, eyebrows knitting. "Then what—?"

She sighed, shaking her head like she still couldn't believe it herself. "Alison's bachelorette party."

Steve stopped walking for half a second, staring at her in surprise. "...You're kidding."

Her smile widened. "I wish I was."

Meanwhile...5 Blocks Away

Bass still pulsed faintly in her bones as Past Serena stumbled out of the club into the blinding glare of the early morning sun. Her platinum blonde hair — slicked into a high ponytail — swayed as she squinted, one arm linked with Alison's for balance. The pink bandage dress clung like a second skin, her heels clicking unevenly on cracked concrete.

Behind them, Jenny — Alison's younger sister — and Rebecca - Val and Everett's daughter -  followed in a tipsy, giggling stagger. Nicole (who was still dating Lewis at the time) trailed last, her designer heels somehow navigating the broken sidewalk without a wobble.

"Oh my God," Alison groaned, shielding her eyes with one hand. "It's morning?"

"I thought it was still midnight," Rebecca muttered, brushing hair from her face.

Past Serena paused, looking around at the rubble-strewn street like she'd woken up in the wrong city. "Uh... where's the car?"

Alison lifted a lazy hand and pointed vaguely toward a pile of crushed masonry. "I think... there?"

Jenny tilted her head back suddenly, eyes catching movement above, as a Chituari flew by. "Oh, a shooting star! Make a wish, everybody!"

Rebecca groaned. "I wish we could find the nearest bathroom. I have to pee really bad."

Past Serena exhaled slowly, trying to focus. "Okay, we need a plan to get out of here before—"

Nicole cut in brightly. "I have an idea."

Past Serena turned toward her. "What is it?"

"Let's ask Siri."

For a moment, Past Serena actually considered it. Then she blinked, incredulous. "Okay... any other, potentially decent ideas?"

Alison, still swaying slightly, pointed toward Stark Tower, where a strange, swirling glow lit the sky like a beacon. "Let's go there."

The ground rumbled beneath their feet. Somewhere far off, an alien roar cut through the air.

Past Serena straightened, staring at the light above the tower. "...Yeah," she muttered. "Why not."

Meanwhile...Back at the Tower

It took about 15 minutes for Steve and Serena to navigate up to the above ground levels of the tower, and even then, it had been so long since they were in it, it took them a while to remember which hallways to go to. 

"I'm heading down to the lobby to ensure the Tessaract gets to us." She began as they walked down an empty hallway.

"Mr. Rogers, I almost forgot, that outfit, did nothing for your ass." Tony's voice began over the coms.

"No one asked you to look, Tony." Steve began with an eye roll making Serena bite back a smirk.

"It's ridiculous." Tony murmured.

"I think you look great, Cap." Scott began. "As far as I'm concerned, that's America's ass."

Steve groaned in annoyance, and closed his coms, but clocked Serena glancing at him suggestively. 

"Stop looking at my ass." He murmured.

"Why?" She countered. "You stare at mine all the time."

He looked her in the eyes. "That's different." 

She stopped in her tracks, as he kept walking. "How is it different? We've seen each other with and without clothes on for the last 9 years, now all of sudden you're conscious because you won't admit that the younger version of yourself has a big ass?"

Just as Steve was about to reply, Tony's voice came over the coms again.

"Balls in play. Heads up Cap." He began. "Mind Stone's on the move."

"I'm in position." Steve explained as he and Serena approached the service elevator where he would intercept the STRIKE team. 

"Do me a favor." Serena began.

"What?" He asked with a frown.

"Don't get thrown out of an elevator by them this time." She said with a small smile.

"Funny." She murmured with an eye roll, and as she turned to walk away, he grabbed her wrist. "What?"

He said nothing but pulled her in for a kiss. No sooner their lips touched, her hands instantly went to cup his face, while his hands went to her waist. When they pulled away, she rested her hands on his chest.

"What?" She asked again, this time coming out as a whisper.

"Nothing, I just...really love you." He murmured, drawing a small smile out of her. "Are you going to be ok?"

A look of hesitation came over her face. "I-I'll be ok. I promise I'll be ok."

"You tell me if something goes wrong, or if your anxiety spikes, and I'll come down." He began. 

"I'll be ok." She said again, reassuring him. "I promise, I'll be ok."

He nodded again, before he placed a kiss to her forehead. He then let her go, and watched as she headed toward the stairwell.

"Stop staring at my ass!" She called, but he could tell she had humor in her voice.

"I love you!" He called after her.

"Obviously." He heard her respond.

Knowing that the Hulk, the original version of the Hulk, and not Bruce's Smart Hulk persona was a few levels above her also chugging down the stairs, Serena practically ran down the several flights of stairs to get to the lobby to get in position.  

No sooner she made it to the lobby, she got into her position, as she was running surveillance for Scott and Tony to ensure that they got the Tessaract without any complications. The only issue was that if anyone from the past saw her, they'd be confused as to why she was there...which is why she is currently in her Avengers issued Viper suit (the one Tony made all those years ago), as - like Natasha's - it had an invisibility cloak, allowing her to be shielded for a period of time. 

"I'm in position." Serena murmured, as she took her place by a column, before turning on the invisibility beacon, before pulling out a technology device that essentially will cut out all security footage of the lobby. "Cutting security cameras now."

"Copy that, Barbie." Tony began, dressed in full SWAT gear nodded from his position across the lobby, gesturing to the columns as he knew she was there. "Thumbelina, do you copy? I've got eyes on the prize, it is go time."

Meanwhile Scott (who was currently hiding in Past Tony's hair), was about to give Tony a minor Cardiac arrest.

"Bombs away." Scott murmured, as he slid down Past Tony to reach his Arc Reactor. "Is that...Axe Body Spray?"

"You still use Axe Body Spray?" Serena murmured in disbelief.

Tony sighed in annoyance. "Yeah I had a can in the desk for emergencies. Can we all focus please?"

"I'm going inside you...now." Scott explained with caution, making Serena frown in disgust.

"Never say that again." She murmured, before her heart stopped in her chest.

She had mentally prepared for everything. She prepared for if she encountered Loki. She prepared for if she encountered the Chitauri, hell, she prepared for if she encountered Sitwell and Rumlow.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared for laying her eyes on the person standing across the lobby.

Alexander Pierce.

Her father.

Alive and well...well...at least a past version of him.

Her entire body froze, as she didn't know what to think. If he saw her, he'd be confused, but then again, he wouldn't know what version of her he'd be speaking to. He wouldn't know that this version of her saw him at his worst, and most cruel.

The man who was the leader of HYDRA.

The man who killed Renata.

The man who attempted to kill her mother and brother.

The man who attempted to kill Steve.

The man who attempted to kill her.

She felt tears well into her eyes, as she looked over him. In some aspects she missed him. She missed the man who taught her sailing of the coast of Martha's Vineyard as a child, she missed the man who applauded the loudest at her ballet performances, she missed the man who had given her pep-talks before every horse show she ever did, and she missed the man who was the first to stand up at her CIA Academy graduation. 

She missed the man she knew as her father...not the man he became in secret.

What she also surprised her, was how her mother - in all her old money glamour - was standing next to her father, in slight annoyance.

She missed her mother. She missed her more than ever, and wished she had her for advice. Hopefully, after all this was over, and everyone was brought back, her mother could give her some of her cold, yet affective as hell advice.

"Mind if I ask where you're going?" Past Pierce began looking over Past Tony and Past Thor.

"A bit of lunch and then Asgard." Past Thor began. "And I'm sorry you are?"

"Alexander Pierce." Past Tony began. "He's the guy behind the guys behind Nick Fury. And standing next to him is the CIA's equivalent of the Wicked Witch of the West, Felicita de Fontaine Pierce. "

"Our friends call us Mr. Secretary and Madam Director." Past Pierce began to Thor. I have to ask you to turn the prisoner over to me."

"Loki will answer to Odin himself." Past Thor countered.

Past Felicita shook her head. "No, he'll answer to us. 'Odin' can have what's left. And we'll need the case back as well. That has been SHIELD property for over 70 years, and the CIA has been running diagnostics on it for over 60 years."

"I'm not gonna argue who has authority here Maleficent." Past Tony began, making Past Felicita's eyes narrow in annoyance. "But jurisdictionally speaking, we are on Stark property. That's my name on the glass..."

"Just give me the case." Pierce instructed.

"Oh my god Tony, you were such an ass to my parents." Serena murmured. 

"Listen, your mother scared the shit out of me...and still hates me." Tony explained. "Move it, Stuart Little. Things are getting dicey out here."

"I wonder why." Serena sighed in annoyance.

"Heads up Barbie, here comes the best part." Tony smirked over the coms, making Serena narrow her eyes, but then widen them in disbelief.

The glass doors swung open with a clatter as five women tumbled into the lobby of Stark Tower, heels clacking against the marble floor.

Nicole leaned heavily against Jenny, laughing uncontrollably. “Why are there two floors? Or is it four floors? Oh my God, I’m flying.” She nearly toppled before Past Serena caught her arm and yanked her upright.

Jenny blinked rapidly, staring wide-eyed at Thor, who was standing a few feet away with the Tesseract case. “Oh my God. Britney Spears is here. I love you, Britney!” She started waving like she was at a concert.

Alison, still in her glitter sash and tiara, was half-asleep on her feet, her head bobbing forward, only staying upright because Past Serena had a hand braced on her back.

Nicole was still clinging to Jenny’s arm, swaying dangerously, mumbling, “My legs don’t work anymore. Someone call AAA.” Her phone slipped out of her hand, and when she caught it, she immediately started typing gibberish into a text to Lewis while loudly humming 'Don't Cha' of all songs.

"Nicole, we get it, you were nominated for a Grammy." Alison murmured trying to fall asleep.

Rebecca, meanwhile, was marching with singular, desperate purpose. “Don’t cha wish you could tell me where the bathroom is?!” she snapped at no one in particular, scanning the ruined lobby like it might magically present her with a restroom sign.

Unlike her train-wreck entourage, Past Serena was more sober, her platinum blonde ponytail still perfectly slicked back, her hot pink bandage dress clinging flawlessly as if she’d just stepped out of a club photoshoot. She carried herself with a sheepish kind of poise, the only one who could walk a straight line.

The moment her eyes found them — Alexander and Felicita standing near Pierce’s men, Stark, and Thor, — Past Serena froze. 

Oh shit.

But she steeled herself, dragging Alison with her and stepping forward.

Her father’s voice cut sharp and cold. “Serena. What the hell are you doing here?”

Felicita’s eyes narrowed, voice low and precise. “At seven o’clock in the morning. In that dress.”

Past Serena cleared her throat, fighting the wobble in her voice. “So… funny story. The car we came in exploded. So, uh… can we borrow one of yours?”

Alexander’s face went from pale disbelief to thunder in seconds. “You’re telling me you’ve been out all night?”

Past Serena’s sheepish smile was all teeth. “…We were celebrating Alison’s bachelorette. It got… late.”

Felicita’s lips pursed in a razor-thin line. “I can tell.” Her gaze flicked over Serena’s smeared eyeliner, the stagger of her friends, Nicole leaning against a column humming “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me…” while drunkenly texting Lewis.

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable. You—” he jabbed a finger toward Serena “—should know better. And you—” he shifted to Alison, who was barely conscious “—are supposed to be the responsible bride?”

Alison blinked awake just long enough to murmur, “We paced ourselves…” before promptly starting to nod off again.

Felicita finally sighed, exasperated. “Fine. Take the car. But if you think for one second that this will be forgotten, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Alexander growled under his breath, muttering something about “recklessness” and “disgrace.”

Past Serena winced but nodded quickly. “Thanks, I owe you big time. But first—” she gestured to Rebecca, who was dancing in place, near tears. “Bathroom. Like… now.”

Rebecca nearly sobbed in relief. “Oh thank god.”

Since the lobby restroom had been obliterated during the chaos, Serena steered Rebecca toward the elevator. The whole glittery, hungover brigade followed behind, leaving her parents seething in the lobby as the elevator doors slid shut.

Still invisible by the column, Serena nearly choked in disbelief. "God I can't believe I forgot about this. I look like Malibu Barbie...no wonder so many people called me the goddamn 'Paddock Princess' back then...then again, I was 23."

"And you wonder how I came up with the nickname Barbie." Tony began with a small smirk, making Serena roll her eyes. "Lang, how're we doing?"

"This place is a mess." Scott explained over the coms. "You promise you won't die."

"You're only giving me a minor cardiac dysrhythmia." Tony explained.

"That doesn't actually sound minor." Scott began.

"If you die, I'm not giving you CPR." Serena murmured glancing down to ensure that the security cameras still had no feed of what was about to go down.

"Shut up Pierce." Tony murmured. "Window's closing. Pull my plug."

"Here goes." Scott sighed.

In a matter of seconds, Past Tony dropped to the floor. 

"Stark? Medic!" Pierce shouted, and chaos erupted around the lobby. 

Scott meanwhile slid out of Past Tony's sleeve and shoved the Tessaract case hard across the floor, allowing for it to get right into Tony's hand.

"Alright, let's move people, we can get a couple slices at Joe's before we hit the alleyway." Tony began, but just as everyone was about to move,  the Hulk, angered from taking the stairs, bursted out of the stairwell, knocking Tony across the room, Serena across the room (and now uncloaked), and the tesseract right in front of Loki.

"HULK HATES STAIRS!" The hulk boomed terrifying personal all around the lobby.

Serena immediately jumped to her feet and ran to Tony to ensure he was ok. Just as she did, Steve came over the coms.

"Ser...we have a problem." He began.

"What is it?" She asked, not turning her back towards her parents who were now freaking out that Loki got away with the Tesseract. 

"That wasn't supposed to happen was it?" Scott asked in confusion.

"Steve what's wrong?" Serena persisted, ignoring Scott's question.

"It's me...the problem is me. Fourteenth floor." He explained, and he sounded like he was out of breath.

Serena looked to Tony in confusion.

"I'll meet you in the alley...go get Cap." He murmured. "I'll cover for you."

Serena glanced around to ensure that her parents were distracted, before she sprinted across the lobby to the stairwell, up to the fourteenth floor, where she had no idea what she was about to face and or witness.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, or suggestions. Also fill free to share your predictions.

Chapter 57: Chapter 57

New York - 2012

Meanwhile...The Fourteenth Floor

The alarms had already begun to shriek through the tower, echoing metallically across polished walls and fractured glass. Steve moved at a run, the scepter clutched in his grip, jaw tight as he scanned for an exit.

The speakers crackled overhead.

“Building-wide alert, all units. Target Loki, maximum force.”

Steve lifted the comm at his collar. “Tony? What’s going on? Tell me you got that cube—”

But before the answer came, another voice cut sharply through the line:

Strike Teams, clear Forty, then work down.

Steve froze, his chest tightening.

And then, stepping into the light — the past collided with the present.

"Oh you gotta be shitting me." Steve sighed in annoyance as he laid eyes on the voice.

Himself.

Well...his former self.

"Disregard. I have eyes on Loki, Fourteenth floor." Past Steve explained as he spoke into his coms.

The two men stared at each other, a surreal reflection. Same shield, same set jaw, same righteous stance. Steve lowered the scepter gently to the floor, his pulse drumming in his ears, and raised his hands in surrender slightly.

"I'm not Loki." He began. "And I don't want to hurt you."

"You’re not going to get the chance—" Past Steve countered before he attempted to strike.

He moved first, placing a lightning kick to Steve's face, causing the older Steve to stumble back with a grunt in annoyance and disbelief.

"Forgot about that one." Steve murmured to himself before he took his shield off his back and charged at his past self. Past Steve did the same, and what occurred was a very heavy, loud, and dangerous clash, that had steel on steel. Shields slammed against walls, fists collided with bone. They grappled, locked in a brutal dance. Both men’s shields clattered to the ground — and in perfect synchronicity, they stomped and flipped them back to their arms.

Past Steve raised a brow, impressed in spite of himself, still believing that his opponent was Loki disguised as himself. Then he swung. Steve ducked, countered with a hammering blow to the ribs. Past Steve countered with a kick, causing Steve to fall to the ground, blood at his lip, while Past Steve squared off again.

"I can do this all day." Past Steve began.

"Yeah, I know...I know." Steve said in annoyance.

The younger Steve lunged, tackling him. They crashed and fell to the ground, Past Steve ripping open one of Steve’s belt compartments. Something small fell out, clattering across the floor. The compass, wide open. Time stopped. And while Past Steve was fully expecting a picture of Peggy, he was instead shocked that inside was a different picture. A modern picture of a young woman with brown hair and green eyes. Past Steve had no idea who this woman was...as he hadn't met her yet...it was 2 years before that would happen.

Past Steve froze, reaching for it. He lifted the compass, eyes narrowing at the woman’s face inside.

"Where’d you get this?" He demanded.

He hurled Steve across the hall. Steve skidded, groaning, landing inches from the scepter. Past Steve bore down on him like an executioner, placing him into a choke hold.

"Bucky is alive." Steve blurted out, making Past Steve release his grip on him, allowing for Steve to have a few seconds to regroup and consider his next plan of action.

Just as Steve reached for Loki's scepter, Past Steve threw him down again, and got on top of him, and put him into a choke hold once more. 

And then—

“Hey, soldier.”

A voice cut sharp, female, familiar.

She slipped from stealth, darting in low. With one smooth flick of her wrist, a spring-loaded injector snapped from her gauntlet. She pressed it against Past Steve’s exposed neck just as he tilted to grab his shield. A soft hiss occurred confirming the injection of one of her newly synthesized neurotoxins into his neck. His body jerked, then faltered. The neurotoxin spread fast, fogging his senses. His knees buckled, shield clattering.

"Nighty-night, Boy Scout." Serena murmured, as Past Steve groaned, staggered then collapsed to the floor, unconscious...but still breathing.

Steve blinked, catching his breath, staring at her.

"You weren’t supposed to come up here." He began.

She shrugged, as she helped pull him up to his feet. "You literally asked me for help, and then again, you weren't supposed to get your ass kicked by...your ass."

"That wasn’t exactly fair." He countered. 

"Neither is fighting yourself." She began arching an eyebrow. "Consider it a cheat code."

She crouched briefly, studying the unconscious form of his younger self, then tilted her head.

"Wow." She smirked. "So that’s what I looked like when I first fell for you. Baby-faced. Shiny. No crow’s feet yet."

Steve groaned in annoyance. "We don’t have time for this."

"Relax, Rogers. I just wanted to admire my first bad decision in HD." She explained with a huff. "Especially since my parents are downstairs."

Steve rolled his eyes, scooped up the compass and clipped it back into place. Then he hefted the scepter. His reflection — the one they’d just downed — lay sprawled out cold on the floor.

"That is America’s ass." He said with slight prid.

Serena barked a laugh, tension breaking for half a second. She reached for his hand, steadying him as alarms still blared.

"Come on, Captain. Before security finds the both of you." She coaxed.

Together, they slipped away down the hall, the scepter clutched tight.

1 Hour Later

Smoke simmered off the street in ribbons, the Battle of New York still raging above like a bad dream that wouldn’t blink. Steve vaulted the last ledge and dropped down from the building into the alley, landing light despite the shield and the weight of the scepter they’d just risked everything to keep out of the wrong hands.

A whistle cut through the din.

Tony waved from behind a crumpled sedan, helmet off, hair a wreck, pride more so.
“Cap. Sorry buddy...we’ve got a problem.”

"Well yeah we do." Scott murmured in annoyance.

Serena hit the fire escape two beats later, skimmed the rail, and dropped beside Steve—only for her stomach to revolt again. Thankfully she was fast enough to, brace a palm against cool brick, and gagged, as the scent of the vomit from early triggered her stomach once again.

“Absolutely… fantastic,” she choked, eyes watering as she spat. “If time travel doesn’t kill me, the smell of this decade will.”

Steve put a steady hand at the small of her back, worry flickering across his face. “Breathe, Ser.”

Tony peered around the car, taking her in with a grimace and zero subtlety. “Is this a stress response or are you trying to aerate the alley?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her glove. “Stark, I swear to God—”

“Love the fire, Barbie. Hate the bile,” he said, then jabbed a thumb street-ward. “We have a cube that no longer cubed.”

They huddled behind the wreck—Steve, Tony, Scott (still vibrating with secondhand panic), and Serena, now steady, jaw set. The scepter lay across Steve’s knees, the mind stone glinting like a patient eye.

“How could you lose it?” Steve asked, voice low, dangerous. "What are we gonna do now?

Tony threw his hands up. “Give me a break Steve, I got hit in the head with a Hulk!”

Scott blurted, words tumbling over each other. “You said we only had one shot. This was our shot. We shot it. It was six stones or nothing! Six stones—”

"You're repeating yourself you know that." Tony countered. "Your repeating yourself."

"You're repeating yourself, you're repeating yourself." Scott countered back.

"Dude." Tony said with an eyeroll

“No! You never wanted a Time Heist. You weren't on board with the Time Heist." Scott snapped.

"I dropped the ball." Tony said putting his hands up.

"You ruined the Time Heist!” Scott fired back.

"Is that what I did?" Tony snapped back.

"Yeah!" Scott snapped again, then shrank a little under Serena’s flat look. "Don't you give me that look, you were totally distracted by your… your former prostitute self!”

Serena blinked. “Huh?”

Steve: “…What?”

Tony, already nodding like a sportscaster: “Bold take from Tiny Tim.”

Scott flailed. “I mean the pink dress! The hair! The whole—” he made spirals around his own head— “situation! You were mesmerized!”

Serena’s brow climbed. “That was my brother’s fiancée’s bachelorette party, you under-caffeinated Roomba.”

Scott paused. “So… not a prostitute.”

“Correct,” she deadpanned. “Just catastrophically over-accessorized.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Vindicated. I’ve been saying she's Cap's life-size glorified 'Malibu Barbie’ for years.”

Serena pointed at him without looking. “Keep talking and I’ll test Sabine’s venom on your espresso machine.”

Scott held up both palms. “Okay, noted. Not a prostitute. Great. Love that journey for us.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, okay, Loki’s from Asgard, he’s comfortable there. Knows the restaurants. It’s a safe bet he visits home. If we can just grab This-Thor and explain the situation, he and I can fly—”

Steve cut him off. “Loki could be anywhere in the universe. We’d be old men before we found him.”

Serena said nothing. Her throat still burned from the alley, but the burn beneath it was worse: that coil of wrongness that had been riding her since they jumped. Too easy. Too clean. The universe never let you cheat twice.

As Steve and Scott bickered, Tony went very still—mind whirring so loudly it was almost visible.

“What other options did we have on the Tesseract?” Steve pressed.

Scott held up both hands, eyes wide. “Whoa, whoa. We don’t have any other options. We can’t go to any other times. No do-overs! We’ve only got one particle left, each. Use it now, that’s it, bye-bye, we don’t come home.”

“But if we don’t try, nobody else comes home, either.” Steve’s voice was iron.

Tony’s eyes snapped into focus. “I got it! There’s another way to re-take the Tesseract, and acquire new particles.” He turned to Steve, intent. “Military installation, Garden State.”

Steve stared at him, the gears sliding into place. “When were they both there?”

Tony’s mouth quirked. “I have a vaguely exact idea.”

“How vague?”

Scott sputtered. “Hang on, what’s in New Jersey?”

Tony exhaled, like admitting a secret to the only person who wouldn’t break under it. “I know they were there, and I know how I know.”

Steve studied him a long moment. The alley fell quiet—sirens far off, Leviathan shadows cutting the sky. Serena watched the two of them and felt the past and future bend around this tight, fragile hinge.

“Looks like we’re improvising.”

Scott flailed. “Wait! What are you improvising?”

Steve pressed the scepter into his hands. “Scott, take this back to the Compound.”

Scott stared down at it like Steve had just handed him a nuclear football. “Uh, okay, no pressure—nope, all pressure. Great.”

Tony pointed at their cuffs. “All right, suits on. Try these coordinates. 04-07-19-70…”

Scott’s voice cracked. “Steve—Cap—Captain America, if you do this and he’s wrong… you’re not coming back.”

The weight of it landed like concrete. Serena felt it, too—how thin the line was between stupid and brave, and how often this team walked it because there wasn’t a road left.

Tony turned to Steve. No bravado. No snark. Just the quiet question they’d once shattered and were now trying to rebuild.

“You trust me?”

Steve didn’t blink. “I do.”

They held each other’s gaze, then—click. They both hit their cuffs.

Tony and Steve shrank to nothing.

For a heartbeat, the alley was only rain and echo.

Serena looked at Scott, who was clutching the scepter like a lifeline. “You’ve got this. Straight home, no sightseeing.”

Scott nodded too fast. “Straight home. No museums. No shawarma. Got it.”

She lifted her cuff, swallowed against the rise of nausea, and managed a crooked smile. “If I puke on Nixon’s lawn, I’m blaming Stark.”

Scott blinked. “Nixon has a lawn?”

“Ask me when we get back.” She tapped her cuff.

The world pinwheeled—color yanked into threads, sound stretched thin—and Serena vanished after them, flinging herself into the only plan left:

Back to the seventies. Back to the one place the cube and a second chance might coexist.

Back to the moment where the future was still salvageable—if they were fast, smart, and just lucky enough to steal it.

Meanwhile

The corridor breathed red—alarm strobes pulsing like a heartbeat, painting the walls in emergency and echo. Somewhere above, glass screamed; somewhere below, metal groaned. The building smelled like ozone, smoke, and the strange metallic bite of Chitauri tech.

A boot shifted.

A groan.

Past Steve pushed himself off the floor, skull ringing. His hand found his shield by reflex; the rest of him lagged a beat behind. The world swam. Vision tunneled, then righted. His bicep burned—a tiny sting in the muscle—as if something had kissed and numbed him there.

Footsteps. Not boots. Heels—quick, staccato, then slowing. He glanced up.

She was a flash of hot pink in a war zone.

Past Serena took in the scene in a single, sharp sweep—blue uniform, star on the chest, a smear of blood on his lip. Only her eyes betrayed the fact that she was more than a girl in a tiara-adjacent morning after. They were sober. Assessing.

“Hey,” she said, dropping to a knee. “Are you with building security, or…?”

Captain America blinked at her, and for the first time since she’d burst into the lobby, she realized exactly who she was crouched in front of.

“Oh.” She exhaled, a half-laugh. “Right. Not security.”

“Ma’am, you need to evacuate,” he said, voice steady out of sheer discipline. He tried to stand; the corridor tilted. He listed. She caught an elbow, braced him against the wall like they’d done this a thousand times.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” she said, breathless and wry. “I’m twenty-three.”

He stared at her.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

That almost got a smile out of him—almost. He blinked away the blur again. She was already moving, efficient hands skimming professionally: pupils, pulse, breath.

“You dizzy?” she asked.

He hesitated. “I’m fine.”

“You’re absolutely not.” She tilted her head, fingers pausing over the small angry dot on his neck. “You get tagged by anything? Gas? Needle? Alien porcupine?”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “No.”

Her look said Sure, Jan. She popped the clasp on a micro clutch (how it still had its glitter in this chaos was a small miracle), fished out an alcohol wipe and… a bandaid with a cartoon cat on it. She tore it open with a decisive rip and pressed the little rectangle over the puncture with a gentleness that didn’t match the rest of her.

He blinked at it. “Is that… a cat?”

“Hello Kitty,” she said, dead serious. “She brings luck.”

He swallowed the laugh threatening to escape. “We’ll take all we can get.”

Another alarm rolled overhead—deeper now, a building-wide groan. She glanced toward the restroom sign down the hall and back at him.

“My friends are in there,” she said quickly. “Bride-to-be is asleep standing up. One’s texting her boyfriend. One might pee on the marble if I don’t get her to porcelain in thirty seconds.”

He nodded, the mission slotting back in where instinct lived. “Keep them in place. Stay low. No elevators if you can avoid it.”

“Right.” She scanned him again. “Do you see straight yet?”

“It’ll pass.” He forced his posture higher, discipline reasserting itself. “Have you seen anyone come through with a—” he groped for neutral language, “—blue glow? Staff? About yay long?”

She shook her head. “Just glitter and regret.” A beat. “And my parents”

He blinked. “…Your—?”

“Long story. Not for today.” She slid a palm under his forearm before he could object and guided him two steps to the junction, pointing with the other hand. “Service stairs this way. That corridor is cratered. Don’t take it. The rooftop’s three flights above. Cross at the mezzanine; the north wall looks intact.”

He followed her finger, took the map in one glance, filed it. The dizziness ebbed another notch. His hand went to his lip; she was already there with a folded linen napkin she’d miraculously liberated from somewhere.

He took it. “Thank you.”

She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle. “You don’t look real, you know that? The star, the whole thing. They didn’t make you in a lab?”

“Something like that,” he said.

That earned him the ghost of a grin. She stepped back, suddenly remembering herself: dress, tiara sash askew, hair pulled into a high, lethal ponytail that hadn’t wilted. A smudge of glitter lived on her collarbone like a dare.

He stuck out his hand on instinct—old-world polite fighting with battlefield urgency. “Steve.”

She took it, firm shake, no flinch. “Serena.”

The name hung there a fractional beat longer than it should have.

He tasted it once. “Serena. You should get your friends home.”

“Working on it.” She tipped her chin toward the bathrooms. “Boyfriend’s in Europe or he’d be here to carry the snoring one. He races cars, so he’s useless for practical things like not dying in an alien invasion.”

Steve’s mouth tipped, just briefly. “I’ll see what I can do about the invasion.”

“Please do,” she said, light but meaning it. “I have a wedding to plan.”

“Congratulations,” he said.

“Not mine,” she called over her shoulder, already moving, heels clicking toward the bathroom sign. “Yet.”

Another tremor. He steadied a palm against the wall, bandaged bicep throbbing once, then settling. He looked down at the napkin in his hand—linen, monogrammed with an elegant F, now streaked with his blood.

He tucked it in his belt pouch without thinking.

“Serena,” he repeated under his breath, eyes clearing.

 

Notes:

We're headed back to 1970...also, a little tease at the end. Remember Steve and Serena in the main timeline met in 2014, here they met 2 years earlier...

As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, predictions, or ideas. 

Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Camp Leigh, New Jersey - April 7th, 1970 

The gate guards barely glanced at the woman with tortoiseshell frames and an attaché case. If they did, they saw a tired federal auditor in navy slacks and a cream blouse, not a thief from the future. Serena signed the log with a crisp “Ophelia Sarkissian, Office of the Inspector General,” slid a stamped memo across the desk, and let the sergeant’s eyes skate right off her as the stamp’s ink dried.

On the access road beyond the gate, soldiers marched past in cadence, olive drab and purpose. Tony and Steve rounded a sun-white corner ahead of her—Tony in a lab coat and forged badge, Steve in base greens, cap low and mirrored aviators catching the barracks in their curve. Tony’s voice crackled over Serena’s earpiece, but he pitched it like banter to his “orderly.”

“You weren’t actually born here, right?”

Steve didn’t miss a step. “The idea of me was.”

Tony swept an unimpressed look across the flat sprawl of Camp Lehigh. “All right. If I was SHIELD and I wanted to hide my quasi-fascistic black site, where would I hide it?”

“In plain sight,” Steve said.

Serena saw it when he did: a gray-suited man fed a retro-tech punch card into a steel door marked MUNITIONS. Tony touched the bridge of his glasses like an absentminded adjustment and smiled faintly as his lenses X-rayed the earth—counting floors of secrets stacked under the New Jersey dirt.

“Showtime,” Serena murmured, and peeled off.

Her first stop was the front desk. She laid down the OMB circular and spoke with the soft menace of bureaucracy. “Unannounced compliance sweep. We’ll need switchboard access and last week’s visitor logs.” No one wanted to argue with an audit. Five minutes later she was in a closet that smelled like dust and Bakelite, bridging two switchboard lines with a narrow brass bar and tapping a “test” call into the internal tree that would keep a dozen desks politely occupied for the next half hour.

When she stepped back into the corridor, Steve and Tony were already gliding into an elevator with a female SHIELD agent between them. Muzak breathed out of a ceiling speaker; Serena caught the faintest look the agent slid toward Tony before the doors sighed shut.

Down in that humming capsule, the music turned something jaunty and forgettable. The agent stared a moment too long at Tony. Steve kept his hat down, broad shoulders relaxed just enough to look like he belonged. The elevator chimed. Tony stepped out, pivoted back, and said, lightly, “Good luck with that mission, Captain.”

“Good luck with your project, Doctor,” Steve returned, deadpan.

The doors closed on Tony’s smirk. The agent turned to Steve. “You new here?”

“Not exactly,” he said, and touched the brim of his cap.

Serena took a different elevator down, two corridors over, and stepped out into a floor that vibrated faintly with secret work. She confiscated a clipboard from a clerk as if born to it and found Steve without looking like she was looking for him. He returned the tiniest nod—eyes already cataloging exits, cameras, faces.

“Sarkissian, IG,” she said to a passing MP, as if Steve were her escort. “Where do you keep facility master plans? Annex C? Thank you.”

Her tone bored them to death. That was the point.

They split at a junction. Tony ghosted toward Records and the vault stairs. Serena and Steve hooked left. When a too-curious MP planted himself in their path, she signed his form, smiled, and pressed his pen cap into his palm. The Montblanc whispered against his skin; a micro-ampule hissed. He went a little glassy. “Bathroom’s that way, Corporal,” Serena said, already walking.

They made the phone room. Serena slid into a stool, lifted a handset, and looped a second line into her “audit tap.” “Switchboard?” she said, bored to the marrow. “This is IG Sarkissian. Patch me through to Comms, then Security, then Logistics.” She worked down her list, tying off attention in tidy knots as Steve ghosted into a nearby office and lifted a receiver.

“Dr. Pym?” he said.

A long-suffering male voice snapped back. “Hello?”

“This is Captain Stevens, from shipping. We have a package for you.”

“So bring it up,” the voice said, impatient.

“That’s the thing, sir, we can’t.”

A beat. “Maybe I’m confused. Isn’t that your job?”

“It’s just… sir, the box is glowing. And to be honest, a couple of our mail guys aren’t feeling great—”

“They didn’t open it, did they?!” the voice barked.

Across the hall, a door marked DR. HENRY PYM flew open. A young man in a lab coat and a temper stormed past Steve and down the corridor, fuming. Steve watched him go, then slid into the abandoned lab without breaking stride.

Serena kept the switchboard busy, her voice a metronome. “Yes, Annex C’s fire doors are sticking. No, you may not leave this line until we complete the test…” When she finished, she doubled back toward Steve’s route, counting the cameras—one every ten meters, all wired to the same junction. She palmed a quarter-sized disc from her pocket and slid it into a magnetic contact seam. The corridor camera blinked, then settled into a soft loop of empty hallway. Thirty seconds of blindness, recurring every two minutes. Enough.

Steve came out of Pym’s lab with his face composed and a new weight tucked discreetly inside his jacket. He headed for the elevator, but when it opened, the female agent from upstairs stepped out with an MP at her shoulder.

“You’ve never seen either of these men before?” the MP asked, a pencil hovering over a notepad.

“No,” she said, but her eyes flicked to Steve’s cap. “But I have an eye for this. Something looked fishy.”

“Describe ‘fishy,’” the MP said.

“One of them had a hippie beard.”

“We talking Bee Gees or Mungo Jerry?”

“Definitely Mungo Jerry.”

The MP lifted his walkie. “This is Chesler. We need every available agent to sub-level six. We have a potential breach.”

Serena slid three steps into their line of sight before their eyes could lock on Steve. “Inspector General Sarkissian,” she said, flashing the badge the printer upstairs had given birth to an hour ago. “Your Annex C fire doors aren’t locking. I’m about to put my findings in front of the Secretary. If you’d like your name in that paragraph, by all means keep chatting.”

Both heads snapped toward her, then toward each other. “Yes, ma’am,” Chesler said reflexively. “Annex C.”

“Good. Run,” Serena said, and didn’t watch whether they obeyed.

Steve used the gap without a sound. He slipped into the nearest office and closed the door.

It was dark—cool and still, a hush of carpet and paper. A glass wall separated it from the bullpen beyond, where desks sat in clean rows and heels clicked past now and then on bureaucratic missions. Steve’s eyes adjusted. Two framed photographs on the desk caught him like a punch: a woman with dark hair and flint in her eyes standing with JFK; the same woman beside a skinny kid in a uniform so big it swallowed him whole. He turned the desk nameplate, and the name hit him harder than the photos had.

Margaret Carter.

On the other side of the glass, a door flew open and light snapped on. “So, send them in,” Peggy said to someone in the hall, brisk as ever.

“They’re trying, ma’am,” a man’s voice answered. “But Braddock’s unit has been stopped by lightning strikes.”

“Oh, for the love of— I’ll find the weather projections. You call Braddock and tell him to shelter in place. Assuming he’s bright enough to come out of the rain.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Steve stood in the dark and tried to breathe. He had fought gods and monsters. He’d never been less prepared than he was in that moment, twenty feet from a life that had moved on without him.

Peggy crossed to a file cabinet. “Here we are…” She scanned a page and her expression tightened. “Crikey O’Reilly,” she muttered, then raised her voice. “Sergeant? Hang up and call Air Command. Braddock needs back up, immediately.”

“Ma’am?”

“Those aren’t lightning strikes he’s looking at…”

She slapped the folder shut and swept out. The bullpen door thudded behind her.

Steve stared after the echo until the blood started in his hands again.

Serena found him at the glass, not moving. She had come in by the side door and stopped the instant she understood where he was looking. Through the wall, Peggy’s office was empty again, but the light she’d turned on still warmed the paper on her desk. Serena’s stomach lurched—the way it had been doing since New York, but worse here, like the air had thinned.

She pressed a knuckle to her sternum and felt the chain there. Slowly, without looking away from the hallway, she drew the emerald ring out into her palm. It glowed green in the dim.

“Is that her?” she asked, almost soundless.

Steve swallowed. “Yeah.”

Serena nodded once, a small jerk that said I heard you, even if her chest had started to ache. She stepped a fraction forward, intercepting a senior admin hustling past the doorway with a stack of folders.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice flat with bureaucratic fatigue. “Annex C records? OMB asked us to verify access logs.”

“Down the hall, left, red door,” the woman said, barely slowing.

“Appreciate it,” Serena murmured, and waited for the footsteps to die. She didn’t look back at Steve. “We’re burning daylight.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been strangling himself with and nodded. He didn’t apologize. She wouldn’t have accepted it.

In the elevator, silence. The muzak was a lullaby now, slow and inane. Serena slipped the ring back beneath her blouse.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” she said, eyes on the doors.

“I’m ready,” he said, and meant it. The doors opened.

From there the mission clicked again. Serena peeled toward Comms, picked up a phone, and made a lot of polite noise that kept desks full and eyes anywhere but the corridor Tony needed to steal. Tony, somewhere below, navigated the vault and a ghost with his father’s eyes; Serena didn’t have to see him to feel the minute when he went from rattled to resolved—Tony’s voice on the line to her, tight and low:

“Sarkissian, this is Records. You didn’t hear this from me, but if someone were to use exit Delta, the cameras are experiencing a brief… compliance test.”

“Duly noted,” Serena said, and hung up.

When the first ripples of alarm finally washed through the underbelly—an MP’s voice rising on the radio, the hard stomp of boots she’d hoped to avoid—Serena already had Chesler’s platoon chasing their tails around “malfunctioning” fire doors at Annex C. She waited in the shadow of a loading dock and counted heartbeats until a figure in a lab coat and a man in green khakis came into view at a jog.

Steve saw her first. Whatever had been in his face behind the glass eased a fraction when he met her eyes. Tony’s look was a snarl and a grin wrapped around something that might have been relief.

“Field trip over,” Tony said, adjusting his lab coat as if he hadn’t just broken four federal laws. “How do we feel about not being here anymore?”

“Deeply,” Serena said. She touched Steve’s sleeve. “You good?”

He nodded. Not exactly, and also yes.

They moved as one back toward the service corridor Serena had “accidentally” propped open with an audit wedge. On the way past the stairwell, Serena’s gaze snagged on a frame on the wall—an old memo bearing the carved signature she knew better than her own. F. de Fontaine. Junior analyst. Her mother had been a ghost in these halls long before Serena learned how to walk through them.

She didn’t mention it. She pressed her cuff. Steve did the same. Tony tapped his.

For a sliver of a second, the air went thin again, nausea clawed at Serena’s throat, and the green under her blouse felt like a promise and a threat.

Then the world folded, and Camp Lehigh disappeared.

Present Day

Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

The pencil that kept spinning across the console finally rattled to a stop—right as the platform howled and the air pressure popped like a joint relocating. A white roar swallowed the hangar, the floor trembled, and the suits blossomed back into people.

Serena didn’t make it three seconds.

Her helmet retracted and she doubled over, one hand slapping the rail, the other braced on her knee as she vomited hard onto the glossy concrete. 

Across from her, Scott yanked his own helmet off and folded over the opposite edge of the pad. “Oh no—oh no-no—” He lost it, too.

“Welcome back,” Tony muttered, winded, clutching a brushed-steel briefcase tight enough to dent it. “Somebody get Housekeeping and a hazmat priest.”

Serena wiped her mouth with the back of her glove and tried to swallow the tremor in her chest. The nausea had ridden her since New York, mean and persistent; the jump to 1970 had made it howl; this landing made it snap its teeth. She dragged in a breath and looked up.

When her vision steadied, she wiped her mouth with the back of her glove and forced herself to look up—really look.

They’d done it.

Bruce—no, the version of him that wore intelligence and brawn like a truce—stood cradling the Eye of Agamotto as gently as a newborn. Scott had the scepter, knuckles white around the golden haft. Rhodey’s gauntlets glinted as he held the Orb. Rocket and Thor gripped an extraction canister, the contained Aether pulsing faint and angry. Tony and Steve carried the Tesseract, blue light leaking at the seams like something breathing. Nebula’s time suit retracted off her in chrome petals; a few arc-lights flickered under her skin.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Exhaustion had hollowed them out. Awe tried to fill the space.

Rhodey found his voice first. “Are you telling me that actually worked?”

Smart Hulk glanced from artifact to artifact, all business. “Did we get them all?”

Before anyone could answer, Clint dropped to his knees.

Steve turned so fast he nearly fumbled the cube. “Clint? Are you okay?”

Clint didn’t seem to hear him. His eyes were glassy, locked on something that wasn’t this room.

Bruce’s face shifted. He knew that kind of silence. “Where’s Nat?” He looked from Thor to Rocket, to Clint again. “Where’s Nat?!” The last word broke on a growl that didn’t belong to any lab.

Serena’s stomach pitched as if the floor had tilted under her. The taste of bile was back, bitter and inexplicable and suddenly, horribly explainable. She reached out blindly and found Steve’s sleeve. He didn’t shake her off. He never would.

Clint finally looked up and the answer was there before he said anything at all.

No one spoke after that. There weren’t words that meant anything.

Dawn turned the Hudson into a sheet of dulled metal. The compound’s docks creaked under heat that hadn’t arrived yet and grief that already had.

Bruce stood at the edge of the planks, hands on the back of a bench as if it were all that kept him from dropping. His eyes were red. Behind him, Steve, Tony, Thor, and Clint stared out at the water, nobody close enough to touch, nobody far enough to escape.

Serena stayed back a pace with Rhodey and Rocket. She felt smaller than she had the day the world halved, and somehow heavier. The emerald on her finger cut a green crescent into her palm. She pressed it hard, a pain she could control.

Tony broke the stillness, his voice rough around a question he already hated himself for asking. “Do we know if she had family?”

Steve didn’t blink. “Yeah. Us.”

Thor turned, something wounded and angry flaring in his face. “Why are you doing that?”

“I’m just asking a question,” Tony said, palms up, the fight gone before it started.

“Why are we talking as if she’s dead?” Thor snapped. “We have the stones. Bring her back. C’mon, stop this shit.”

Clint squeezed away tears and the sound of it felt indecent in the morning quiet. “We can’t get her back.”

“What’s he talking about?” Thor demanded. “Of course, we can.”

“It can’t be undone. That’s why.”

“No offense, but you’re… a very earthly being.” Thor’s voice cracked on the sneer. “We’re talking about space magic, here. ‘Can’t’ seems a little definitive, don’t you think?”

“Well, I know I’m a little outside my pay grade here,” Clint said, each word landing like it had to fight its way through his chest, “but, she still isn’t here, is she?”

“That’s my point—”

“It can’t be undone,” Clint said, louder now, like volume might make someone else believe it so he wouldn’t have to. “At least that’s what the red, floating guy said. But why don’t you go talk to him, okay? Why don’t you grab your hammer and fly to that place and talk to him. IT CAN’T BE UNDONE.” He swallowed hard. “It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it.”

The water took his words and flattened them, but their weight stayed.

Bruce moved before anyone could answer. He tore the bench up off the dock and hurled it with a roar; it skittered across the river in impossible skips before sinking out of sight.

“She’s not coming back,” he said, voice shredded. “We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

Steve’s answer was quiet and absolute. “We will.”

Serena believed him because she had to. Because not believing him meant crumpling in on herself like a paper cup, and there wasn’t time for that. Not yet. She dug a thumb into the edge of her ring until something like breath returned.

Rhodey cleared his throat. Rocket said nothing for once. Thor stared at his empty hands like they’d betrayed him. Tony’s eyes stayed on the ripples where the bench had vanished.

Behind them, far up the slope of the compound, a gull screamed at nothing. Somewhere inside, a pencil rolled off a table and clattered to the floor. In the hangar, six unspeakable artifacts sat in a circle like a prayer and a bomb.

Serena wiped her mouth with the heel of her hand, not because she was sick now, but because the motion gave her something to do that wasn’t breaking. First Maria, now Natasha. Two of her closest colleagues, associates...the two people within the intelligence world who stood by her, the two people she wanted in her wedding...now gone. She glanced up the hill toward the hangar doors—toward Nebula limping past the shadows, implants flickering a fraction off-beat. A prickle skated down Serena’s spine.

That feeling again. Wrong air. Thin edge.

“Whatever it takes,” she whispered, to Steve, to herself, to the girl who used to believe you could outrun grief if you moved fast enough. “We make it count.”

Steve’s knuckles brushed hers. Just once. Just enough.

The river kept its secrets. The sun climbed anyway. And the day, indifferent to anyone’s permission, began.

 

Notes:

As always, let me know if you have any questions comments or concerns.

Chapter 59: Chapter 59

Present Day

Location: Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

Serena didn’t tell anyone she still felt wrong. The nausea had never quite released its grip since New York; it hung in her ribs like a fist, a little tighter every hour. She kept her face smooth, her hands busy, and slipped down the stairs where no one would follow her.

The lab’s door sighed shut. The hum of air handlers and the soft, sand-dry rustle of scales steadied her more than breathing exercises ever had. Sabine—the inland taipan who had already forgiven Rhodey’s earlier clumsiness—lifted her wedge head as Serena opened the terrarium. Serena let the cool, living ribbon pour into her palm and coil around her wrist, a living bracelet that tasted the air against Serena’s pulse.

“Salut, ma belle,” she murmured, voice low and even. “C’est presque l’heure.” (Hello, my dear. It is almost time.)

Sabine settled, calm as a heartbeat.

Serena leaned her hip against the bench and let the French fall out of her—soft where her English refused to be. “On va essayer de les ramener… tous. Maman surtout.” Her thumb stroked a scale, careful not to startle. “J’ai besoin de ses conseils. De sa voix. Juste… une fois.” (We'll try to bring them back…all of them. Mom especially. I need her advice. Her voice. Just ...once.)

She hadn’t called Felicita “Maman” since she was small enough to keep secrets only in her pockets. The word felt fragile in her mouth, an antique pulled down from a high shelf.

Sabine lifted her head, tongue flicking Serena’s pulse again. “Merci,” Serena breathed, and—because it was time, because there wasn’t any more room for wishing—she slid Sabine gently back into her enclosure and latched the door.

Upstairs, voices and machine-song braided into something like purpose.

The workshop had the still, clinical brightness of a surgical theater. All six Infinity Stones rested behind safety glass. Their light was wrong and beautiful, like weather trapped in crystals. Robotic arms slid into the frame, plucking up the Power Stone with a delicacy that made Rocket look almost reverent. Tony stood at the console, posture coiled, every twitch of his fingers echoed by the arms. The robot swung the stone over to a new Iron Man gauntlet. Nano-tech shifted and slid, opening, curling, making space, holding it in place.

Serena stepped in at the margin, near Steve. She didn’t touch him. She didn’t have to.

Stone by stone, the arms fed the glove its impossible hunger. A few hours had past, and eventually time had found the completed gauntlet sitting in a cradle, six Infinity Stones embedded across the back. The light that leaked out of it made Serena’s skin pebble.

She took a breath that wasn’t deep enough.

Rocket exhaled and scratched behind one ear. “All right. The glove’s ready. Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

The question ran around the room and came back empty. Thor reached out, eyes fierce and unfocused. “I’ll do it.”

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing—” Tony started.

Steve’s voice cut cleaner. “Thor, we haven’t decided who’s putting that on.”

“Oh.” Thor blinked, wounded pride sharpening into impatience. “Were all of you just waiting for the right opportunity?”

“Maybe I was getting around to it—” Rocket muttered.

“We should at least discuss it—” Scott blurted.

“Staring at the thing isn’t going to bring everybody back, is it?” Thor snapped. “Look, I’m the strongest Avenger. It’s my responsibility. Fate wills it so.”

“Hold on, hold on—” Tony lifted both hands.

“Stop it!” Thor’s voice cracked. “Let me do this. Let me do something good. Something right—”

Tony’s reply was pure engineer: “That thing is channeling enough energy to light up a continent. You’re in no condition—”

“What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?” Thor demanded.

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodey offered.

"Beer?" Clint offered.

"A  Party Size bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos?" Serena sighed.

"I was going to suggest Funyuns myself." Scott murmured. 

“Lightning,” Thor bit out, glaring at them all.

Banner stepped toward the cradle. “Lightning won’t help you, pal. It’s gotta be me.” He came closer, eyes on the stones, not on any of them. “You saw what those stones did to Thanos. They almost killed him. None of you could survive.”

“And how do we know you can?” Steve asked, steady, no drama.

“We don’t.” Banner looked at the glove like he’d been waiting his entire life to name what he was. “But the radiation’s mostly gamma.” A small, almost rueful breath. “It’s like I was made for this…”

Serena heard her own voice before she knew she’d decided to use it. “He’s right.” 

They turned; she kept her eyes on the glove. “Criteria’s simple: who’s most likely to live long enough to snap and still breathe after? That isn’t Thor today.” She gentled the edge, just a hair. “We need you when this is over.”

Thor’s jaw twitched; the fight inside him was louder than his words. He didn’t argue.

In the hangar, the lights clacked on, washing the Quantum Tunnel in colorless daylight. Nebula stood beneath it and stared up the way soldiers looked at monuments. In the clean brightness, her arm was whole. Perfect. A detail Serena’s instincts had already filed as wrong without understanding why.

Nebula peeled off a glove. She opened a panel in her forearm; a loop of cable uncoiled like a vein. She jacked into the console. The Tunnel’s systems woke—numbers climbing, energy gathering—like something inhaling.

Back in the workshop, Smart Hulk rolled his shoulders once and nodded to Tony. This was happening.

Tony glanced down the line. “Good to go?”

“Let’s do it,” Banner said.

“Okay, remember,” Tony said, voice all business because it had to be, “everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago—you’re just bringing them back… to today. Don’t change anything from the last five years. Got it?”

“Got it,” Smart Hulk said.

They tightened without a cue. Steve moved forward, shield already on his arm. Scott’s helmet clicked into place. Rhodey’s repulsors woke with a hum. Rocket edged behind Thor and—because he was Rocket—covered what he considered the essentials. Tony’s armor slid up his shoulders and down his arms; a curved nanoshield blossomed to cover Clint without asking his permission. 

“Friday,” Tony said, “why don’t you go ahead and activate Barn Door Protocol?”

Steel doors rumbled into place, sealing every seam of the workshop. It was the sound of resolve pretending to be safety.

Serena slid one step closer to Steve, and he raised his shield higher to protect her. He didn’t look away from Banner, but his fingers found the edge of her sleeve for one heartbeat and left it.

Smart Hulk lifted the gauntlet. A whisper, not for them: “Everybody’s coming home…”

He eased his hand into the glove.

Power hit like a live wire. Banner spasmed, forearms bulging under the weight of it. The green in him blazed up through the eyes and into the room.

“What’s happening?” Thor demanded, panic splitting his voice. “Take it off, take it off!”

“Bruce—” Steve’s voice sharpened. “You okay?”

“Talk to me, Banner,” Tony snapped.

“I’m… okay…” Banner ground out through his teeth. He forced his hand forward. He reached.

He snapped.

The sound wasn’t loud; the room was. The stones flared. Energy tore up Banner’s arm in a vein of white fire and left ruin behind. He roared, and then there was only light, and then there was only pain.

The world went white.

In the hangar, the Quantum Tunnel reached full throat. Nebula’s eyes didn’t change. She unplugged, already moving. On the tarmac outside, the air rippled as if heat were rising off cold water; a time-signature lanced into the sky, and the sky changed shape around it.

Color came back all at once. The gauntlet clattered to the floor and rolled, suddenly small and terrible. Smart Hulk collapsed, arm withered, side charred to a brutal black. Everyone surged—except Serena, who flinched without moving, a nausea spike like a knife under the ribs.

“Bruce!” Steve dropped to a knee, one hand already at Banner’s neck, checking what could be checked.

“Don’t move him!” Tony barked, hands hovering like a surgeon who’d just felt a pulse return.

The blast doors slid open—Barn Door reversing—and from the open corridor came a sound that didn’t belong in this place: birds. A bright stutter of chirps, insistent and ordinary.

Scott turned toward the courtyard, mouth open like he’d forgotten how to close it. “I—”

Banner’s fingers clamped around Steve’s forearm. The green behind his eyes flickered, then steadied. “Did it work?”

Silence answered him. Not disbelief—recognition. The room realized together what the birds meant.

On a workbench behind them, a cell phone buzzed. Clint stared, then stumbled toward it as if afraid it would vanish if he moved too fast. The screen lit his face: LAURA CALLING over a photo that shouldn’t have existed anymore.

His mouth worked once. Twice. Then the sound he made was half laugh, half prayer. “Honey?”

Serena’s phone vibrated in her pocket.

She didn’t move for one breath. Then two. Then she fumbled it out, the screen smeared with her thumb. An old contact she hadn’t been able to delete lit the glass with a name she’d memorized before she learned the alphabet.

Mom.

Her vision blurred so fast it was almost painful. She answered without thinking, without armor, without age.

“Maman?”

The word broke her voice. It broke something else open with it.

She heard an inhale. The intake of a woman who’d never let surprise show. “Serena?” The single syllable was cautious, clipped—and alive.

Serena pressed the phone to her ear like she could fall into it. “Je suis là,” she whispered, useless words, the only ones that fit. “Je suis là.” (I am here. I am here.)

At the window, Scott laughed under his breath at a feeder that hadn’t had birds for half a decade. Cardinals and finches mobbed the seed like confetti thinking itself back into the air. He turned, light catching his helmet, color back in his face. “Guys, I think it—”

The building moved.

No—something hit the building so hard the world became shrapnel. The blast took the sentence out of Scott’s mouth, took the ceiling off the room, took the floor out from under them and turned it into air and fire and pressure. Serena’s phone tore out of her hand; the sound on the other end snapped off into static as concrete roared.

For a fraction of a second, Serena saw Steve—the line of his shoulders turned toward her, the angle of his arm as he threw the shield up, the shape of his mouth around her name—and then the wave hit and the room became a throat swallowing them whole.

 

Notes:

Here we go! Final arc of Avengers: Endgame!

Question for everyone, since the MCU well continues after Avengers: Endgame, I've been getting requests in my messages on continuing the story after Endgame. I have some ideas on how this could go, but I wanted opinions first.

As always let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or ideas. And fill free to make your predictions!

Chapter 60: Chapter 60

Present Day

Avengers Compound Ruins - Upstate New York

The blast didn’t sound like an explosion so much as the world changing its mind about holding together. One instant Serena had a phone pressed to her ear and her mother’s voice alive on the other end; the next, everything was pressure and light, shearing wind and the scream of steel. The floor leapt. The ceiling fell. She saw Steve spin toward her, shield already rising, and then the shock wave erased distance and knocked every name out of her throat.

Blackness. Dust in the lungs. The taste of copper.

When sound crept back, it came one drop at a time.

Water dripped from a hole in the roof of an access tunnel… onto Clint Barton, lying facedown.

He groaned, the noise human and stubborn. He opened his hand and found his cell phone, its glass spidered with cracks. Through the crazed lines, his wife’s face smiled as if nothing had ever happened. “LAURA, ONE MISSED CALL.” Clint stared, amazed—like the word itself might be a trick.

He winced as he shifted—and discovered he’d been lying atop something that hummed with a wrong, living heat: the gauntlet. Bashed out of shape, edges burred, but all six stones still gleamed, their light guttering like sick stars.

On the other side of the fallen slab that had saved and trapped them, Serena stirred. Pain arrived in a chorus: a stone digging into her hip, grit grinding her teeth, a bolt through the right side of her skull where the nausea had lived all week and now exploded into something meaner. She tried to lift her head; debris grated; the world tilted.

“Ser?” Clint’s voice scraped over the rubble. “C’mon, Ser. Get up.”

“I’m—” She coughed, tasted dust, tried again. “I’m here.”

His silhouette shifted in the dim. He shoved chunks of concrete aside, reached under a twisted brace. “You good?”

“I will be.” A lie on principle. She braced her palms and pushed. The slab pinning her left calf lifted an inch, two—long enough for her to drag her leg free with a hiss. White needles shot up to her knee. The nausea bucked, threatening to put her back under.

Clint got a shoulder under her and levered her up. “On your feet, Pierce. We don’t get paid overtime.”

She almost laughed. “Pretty sure you couldn’t afford me,” she muttered, then swallowed against the wave rising in her throat. “Go. If the gauntlet’s down here—”

“Yeah.” He felt for his comm, found only static. “Cap? Stark? Anyone?”

Nothing. The tunnel answered with its own language: concrete settling, pipes pinging, and—under it—a new sound. A scrape. Talons testing cement.

Serena lifted her head, every instinct suddenly awake. “Listen.”

Clint froze. The sound came again, multiplied. He peered down a dark run of tunnel, then unshouldered his bow with a motion older than any catastrophe.

“Light,” Serena breathed.

He loosed a flare arrow. The magnesium hissed into brightness, and the tunnel bloomed with terrible clarity. Dozens of Outriders scrabbled along the walls and ceiling, insectile silhouettes tearing at the concrete as if gravity had made them a dare.

“Move,” Serena snapped.

Clint didn’t need telling twice. He grabbed the gauntlet—arms flexing under its awful weight—and ran. The creatures gave chase with that skittering, shrieking speed that made the back of Serena’s neck crawl. She stumbled after, her leg half-numb, adrenaline doing the hateful work of pretending she was fine.

Clint slapped arrow-charges onto the walls as he went, a rhythm born of years: stick, run, stick, run. Serena caught one falling from his fingers and slammed it against a joist without breaking stride.

“On your call,” she said.

“Now.” He hit a stud on his bow. The charges blew, concussive and satisfying, and the roof came down behind them in a hungry collapse. Concrete and rebar thundered; dust chased them like a second blast. The front rank of Outriders disappeared beneath the fall.

Serena risked a glance back. A cluster of the things had slipped the collapse by sheer, spiteful speed and were already pouring through gaps like a black tide.

Ahead, the tunnel stopped at a vertical shaft.

“Up or through,” Clint panted.

“Up,” she said, because through was death. He fired a grappling arrow. Cable sang. He slung the gauntlet across his back, grabbed the line, and started to climb.

Serena launched after him, arms and bad leg screaming. The Outriders hit the base of the shaft and began to skitter up the slick concrete like roaches, claws finding any insult in the surface.

Clint glanced down, judged distance the way other men judged weather, and yanked his katana free. “Heads,” he warned.

“Just keep moving,” Serena said through her teeth. That wrong, hollow feeling inside her was back, a cold pebble rolling in her gut, but she didn’t have the time to hate it. She kicked an Outrider in the face as it leapt, felt cartilage crush under her heel, and kept climbing.

At the lip, the shaft belled into an upper chamber. Clint hauled himself over and rolled, coming up in a knee, drawing breath like it hurt. Serena reached for his forearm—and the floor bucked again, a fresh aftershock shaking loose a chunk of ceiling the size of a table. It crashed down between them, exploding into shards.

“Ser!” he shouted.

She got one hand on the edge. The slab slithered, settled, sealed the gap like a lid.

“Go!” she yelled, throat raw. “I’ll find another way—go!”

He didn’t like it. He did it anyway. He turned—and stopped dead.

Nebula loomed over him.

For a heartbeat, relief; then the cold itch of wrongness as his eye took in the details: the way she stood, the perfect edges where there should have been scar and story. “Oh, hey,” Clint said, half-dazed. “I know you.”

She answered by taking the gauntlet from him with a gentleness that felt like mockery. She lifted a hand to her ear. “Father,” she said into the comm. “I have the stones.”

“What—” Clint started.

She put a boot in his chest and a blaster to his forehead.

Serena, coughing in the dust on the far side of the fallen slab, heard none of it. She shoved at debris that didn’t want to move and swore in two languages, then three. The tunnel she’d come from had become a jagged throat. She backed, limped, took the first side passage she could find, following air currents and instinct.

Above, Clint froze as another voice cut the charged air.

“Stop,” Gamora said.

Bad Nebula shifted, blaster steady, then turned to see her—hair black as deep space, gun up, eyes the impossible mix of ferocity and pleading. “You’re betraying us?”

“Not you,” Gamora said.

From the shadows behind her, a second Nebula stepped into the light—older by years of pain, softened by something like grace. Hands raised, placating. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I am this,” the younger one answered, and there was no bravado in it. Only programming.

“No,” Gamora said, and the certainty in the word made the air feel different. “You’re not.”

The Nebula who’d lived their future touched the side of her head, the metal gleaming dull in the ruin-light. “You’ve seen what we become—”

“Sister, listen to her,” Gamora urged.

“Shut up,” Bad Nebula spat, but the aim of her blaster trembled. “You’re a traitor.”

“You can change,” the older Nebula said. It wasn’t a plea. It was an offering she hadn’t known she could make.

Bad Nebula’s face twisted, a grimace of war at the exact moment it turned into choice. “He won’t let me.”

Her blaster flared toward Gamora just as Good Nebula brought her own weapon up with heartbreaking precision. Two shots in a single breath. One missed. One found. The younger Nebula jerked, surprised to be dying, and dropped.

Silence broke over the chamber like rain.

Good Nebula stared down at the body that had been her. Conflicted wasn’t the right word; there wasn’t a word for that much grief and relief pressed into the same breath.

Clint, very confused and still lying where a cyborg had pinned him, reached for the gauntlet again. He picked it up because not picking it up felt like the dumbest possible choice. “I’m not even gonna ask,” he said, half to the room, half to whatever gods had decided today was the day for time travel and patricide.

Footsteps scuffed in a side corridor. Serena shouldered into view, hair white with dust, blood seaming one temple. She took in the tableau—one dead Nebula, one living Nebula, one Gamora whose eyes echoed every rumor they’d ever heard, and Clint with the most dangerous object in existence under his arm—and huffed a humorless breath.

“Please don’t,” she told him.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “Can you walk?”

“I can win a race against a corpse.” She glanced at the toppled slab, the shaft, the tunnels behind. The nausea rolled again, a cold, wrong tide, and she shoved it deeper where it couldn’t find her hands. “We have to move.”

Gamora’s gaze flicked between them and the gauntlet. “Where?”

“Up,” Serena said. “Out. Anywhere that isn’t a tomb.” She met Good Nebula’s eyes—steel and sorrow, history and hope. “You coming?”

Nebula nodded once. “We make it count,” she said, and the words sounded like a vow she’d been building her whole life to say.

They moved, the four of them, through the compound’s wounded veins—Clint with the gauntlet; Gamora and Nebula bracketing him with the kind of casual lethality that made Outriders think twice; Serena limping but not stopping. Every turn carried a new groan of stressed steel, a new cascade of dust, a new edge to the wrongness prowling her gut.

She didn’t tell them any of it. Not the pebble in her stomach, not the way her ribs seemed to hum, not the phantom ache of a word knocked out of her—Maman—still ringing in her mouth.

Later. If there was a later.

For now, the only truth that mattered was the weight under Clint’s arm and the way the tunnel opened ahead into a slice of gray daylight.

“Up,” Serena said again, and they went.

They climbed toward a ragged triangle of daylight, the four of them strung together by breath and urgency: Clint with the gauntlet clamped to his ribs; Gamora and Nebula flanking him like a matched pair of blades; Serena ghosting at their heels, grit in her teeth, one leg singing pain. The tunnels coughed them up into the broken courtyard of the Compound, and the world beyond simply…opened.

Smoke clawed the sky. The lawn was a cratered scar. Out past the shattered terraces a battlefield cascaded down into a blasted bowl where one purple certainty moved with the patience of extinction.

Thanos.

He strode through the ruin like a man arriving to collect on a debt. Across from him, three figures rose out of rubble and flame: Tony, armor scorched and dented; Thor, hair wild, eyes storm-dark; Steve—her Steve—blood at his lip, shield on his arm, jaw set. They converged, an old trinity taking a last step forward, and for a breath Serena forgot the weight in her own body and the wrong, cold stone of her unshakable unease. This was what they did. They met the end with their feet under them.

The first exchange was heat and metal: Stormbreaker arcing, repulsors flaring, Thanos’s blade catching and splitting light. Serena heard the chord of it ring in her bones—and then the fight tilting, brutal, fast. Thanos wrenched Stormbreaker and drove it down, the axe-head biting toward Thor’s chest. Serena flinched—and saw the hammer twitch on the ground, quiver, lift.

Mjolnir tore from the dirt and flew—not to the god on his knees, but across the field, handle-first into Steve’s palm.

Serena’s mouth dropped open. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Steve didn’t look back. “Not now, honey!”

And then he moved.

Steve attacked, cracking Thanos in the jaw. Thanos tumbled. Before the Titan could get up, Steve called down the lightning and sent it crackling into Thanos’ body. The sky answered him—white veins spearing into the monster’s armor, the ground shuddering with the impact. Steve leapt, trying to finish Thanos off… but Thanos rolled aside, head-butting Steve backwards. The Titan got to his feet, a faint smile on his face. He whipped off his helmet and came in with his double-edged blade—blow after blow, so many Serena forgot to breathe. It was all Steve could do to get his shield up. Sparks fountained. Vibranium screamed. Thanos hacked the shield to pieces, finally knocking Steve across the field.

He hit dirt and slid, half a shield still strapped to his forearm. He pushed up on one knee, chest heaving.

“In all my years of conquest…” Thanos’s voice carried like weather. He looked out at the tiny human struggling to stand. “Of violence and slaughter… it was never personal.”

The ground under Serena’s boots gave a little shudder. A rumble rolled through the crater, answering the gesture of Thanos’s hand as if he’d pulled the sound up out of the earth. Along the lip of the bowl, figures massed by the thousand: the Black Order out front, ranks of Chitauri and Sakaarans and Outriders pouring in behind them. Q-ships and dropships and necrocraft swarmed overhead. Farther back, a Leviathan’s shadow crossed the sun.

“But I’ll tell you now,” Thanos said, turning back to the lone man on the blasted field, “the things I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying, little planet… I’m going to enjoy it. Very, very much.”

Steve looked at the army that ringed him like an answer and tightened the broken straps on his arm. He got to his feet.

Serena felt something in her chest pull taut and hold. She looked down the slope to him—too far to reach, too close to bear—and did the only thing she’d ever really known how to do: refused to imagine a world where he didn’t stand back up.

He started walking toward Thanos. One man against thousands. All alone.

Then his com cracked. He flinched, as if the sound itself hurt. The com crackled again. A muffled voice bled through static.

“-ap… -comin-… -ot—”

Steve shook his head, trying to clear it. Slowly, the words found their shape.

“Cap.” The voice was warmer than the sky had been in years. “On your left.”

Serena’s breath broke. 

Sam.

Far across the churned field, a golden circle blossomed like the world remembering how to open. Out of it flew Sam Wilson, wings outstretched, angling low over the battle’s mouth. Then another portal cleaved the air. And another. And another.

They kept coming.

From one, a cluster of impossible, beloved chaos: Doctor Strange, wind tugging at his cloak; Peter Quill, already swaggering; Drax and Mantis; Peter Parker, landing gawky and perfect beside Kraglin and a ragged wedge of Ravagers. From another, T’Challa sprinted onto the field with a roar that went through Serena like a chord; Okoye and Shuri were at his shoulder, M’Baku bellowing, Wanda’s eyes lit with a grief that burned. Bucky strode out, rifle already raising, and a teenage Groot unfolded like a sapling finding sun. Behind them—an army of Wakanda, shining and terrible. From a third: Valkyrie on a pegasus, Korg and Miek and a wall of Asgardian steel. From a fourth: Pepper in gleaming blue Rescue armor, Hope Van Dyne lifting into hover beside her, Wong marching with a squad of sorcerers, their rings carving light from air.

Thor staggered up, calling Stormbreaker home as Tony swayed to his feet, turning to gape at the cavalry flooding in like breath after drowning. Wong and Strange found each other in the tide.

“Is that everyone?” Strange called, eyebrows climbing like even he couldn’t believe this many threads had found the same moment.

“You wanted more?!” Wong shot back.

The ground beneath Serena’s boots shook again—this time with a different rhythm. Far off to their left, rubble erupted upward and Giant-Man shouldered his way into daylight like a building learning to walk.

“Top floor, everybody out!” Scott boomed, opening his huge hand to let Rocket tumble free with a yelp, Smart Hulk roll off with a groan, and Rhodey drop in his new cosmic Iron Patriot armor, plating still smoking.

All at once Serena was laughing wetly, breathless, giddy as if she’d just rediscovered a word she’d been missing for years. She glanced sidelong. Nebula stood like a spear point, unreadable and burning. Gamora watched the armies pour in with a wariness that might one day become hope. Clint lifted the gauntlet an inch and then settled it back to his ribs, eyes never leaving Steve.

Steve took in the reinforcements, the circle of friends and ghosts and futures. He stared out at Thanos. He lifted his hand, and Mjolnir streaked back to him like the universe had decided, finally, to pick a side.

“Avengers,” he said, voice low and sure.

The word rolled over them, through them. Serena felt it in her skin.

“...assemble.”

Thor let loose a battle cry and charged. Everyone followed, our heroes flooding the field like a tide reclaimed. Across the way, Thanos smiled and leveled his blade. Two mighty armies raced toward each other until the air between them disappeared into impact.

Giant-Man slugged a Leviathan in the jaw. Drax launched himself onto a Cull that had Korg in a choke and started stabbing like catharsis. Tony blasted overhead and Rescue joined him, the two of them raking fire across a line of Outriders until they buckled. Steve and Thor fell into a rhythm that felt both old and brand new; at one point both lifted their hands and the wrong weapons snapped home—Stormbreaker returning to Steve, Mjolnir to Thor, who frowned, glanced down at the hammer, then over.

“No,” Thor said, panting, almost affronted. “You take the little one.”

Serena snorted despite herself, then ducked under a Chitauri spear and drove a blade clean into the seam at its collar. The wrongness churned low and cold under her ribs, an ice pebble rolling, but she kept it leashed where it couldn’t reach her hands. There would be time later to name it. If she made later.

Clint caught her shoulder, eyes flicking to the gauntlet. “Run play?” he asked.

“Run it,” she said. “East ridge, relay. Keep it moving—keep it away.”

Gamora nodded once. Nebula checked the charge on her blaster and took point. Serena squeezed Clint’s forearm and felt something like steadiness go between them.

“Hey,” she called, and when Steve’s head cut toward her for a heartbeat in the chaos, she jerked her chin toward the storm he’d called to hand. “Try not to get murdered by your midlife crisis.”

“Don't start!” he threw back, breathless, blood at his lip, eyes blazing—and then he turned and ran at a god.

Serena ran the other way, into the flood, carrying the last best mistake of the universe alongside a man who’d just heard his wife’s voice for the first time in five years. The air was all noise and heat and wings and ships and dust. Somewhere behind them, a boy in red and blue landed with a thud and a gasp; somewhere above, a pegasus screamed and thundered past. To her left, T’Challa swept by like an answer. To her right, Wanda brought a leviathan to its knees with nothing but grief and will.

"What do you want us to do with this thing?" Clint asked as he and Serena kept sprinting.

"Get those stones as far away as possible!" Steve ordered.

"No!" Bruce shouted. "There's no way to send them back, Thanos destroyed our time machine!"

Scott then shrunk to normal size. "Hold on! That wasn't our only time machine."

Just then, that infamous horn of La Cucharacha blew loud and clear. 

"Of course that big pile of shit survived." Serena groaned.

"Has anyone seen a big ugly brown van out there?" Steve innocently asked, hoping someone had an answer.

But no one responded.

Clint had the gauntlet tucked to his ribs, Serena running shoulder-to-shoulder with him along the torn ridge line, when a plasma bolt tore a trench through the ground at their feet. The shockwave punched her straight off her stride. She went sideways—air, then dirt—slamming down in a tangle of limbs and scorched grass. The world narrowed to grit in her mouth and the metallic sting of ozone. For a heartbeat she couldn’t pull a full breath; the wrong cold pebble that had been tumbling in her gut all day rolled hard against her spine.

“Pierce, you alright?” Clint’s voice, ragged, somewhere above her.

She pushed onto an elbow. The sky doubled, then steadied. “I’m—” She spat mud. “—working on it.”

Her com hissed, a private line under the chaos. A voice cut in—warm, cocky, familiar as a childhood bruise.

“Trouble, your guardian angel just clocked in.”

Her eyes flew open fully, breath catching in her throat, but before she could say more, every channel on the field went loud at once. Not orders. Not panic.

Music.

A snarling guitar riff burned through their comms, clean and defiant, as if the battlefield itself suddenly had a pulse. Cult of Personality hit the chorus like it had been waiting five years to be this loud.

Somewhere to their left, a kid’s voice yelped over the open line, delighted and hopelessly wrong: “I love AC/DC!”

Serena rolled, spat dirt, and pushed to a knee. Across the churned ground, a circle of sparks had begun to bloom, a Wong-precise aperture tearing open in the air like an eye. Through it came a silhouette she’d know anywhere: broad-shouldered, lean, moving with that wolf-quiet arrogance that used to get him punched and promoted in the same hour.

Light rippled across the churned ground. Another of Wong’s portals unfurled in a spray of gold fifty yards away, a perfect circle torn into the air. Through it stepped a man in matte-white armor, that mimicked that of T'Challa, white forearms gleaming under a web of tactical straps. Full kit. Twin blades across his back. Helmless. Grinning like he’d just crashed the wrong wedding on purpose.

T’Challa, pounding past with a wedge of Dora at his back, cut him a side-eye and didn’t break stride. “He has to make an entrance.”

Rocket, riding a chunk of broken rebar like a skateboard, glanced over, groaned. “Not this idiot again.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Serena called, staggering up as the song crashed into another verse.

Nick’s smile widened when he found her in the ruin, as if he’d walked straight through a portal and into the joke he’d been writing since birth. “Been like that since you were born.” He tipped his chin toward the far side of the crater where a very large, very purple problem was carving a path toward the center. “Where’s Grimace?”

Serena threw a hand in Thanos’s direction. “There.”

“Oh,” Nick said, taking in the Titan, the army, the hammer in Steve’s fist, the insanity of all of it in one cool swallow. “Fun.”

Clint barreled toward them out of the smoke, eyes going wide, relief hitting his face like oxygen. “Nick. Great to see you. Hold this and run.”

“What—” Nick began.

He didn’t get to finish. Clint shoved the ruined gauntlet into his chest, the six stones still burning along the back like a row of small, furious suns. Nick’s arms locked around it on reflex. He blinked down, then back up.

“Right,” he said, deadpan. “Jog with jewelry. Got it.”

Serena fell into stride at his side the second his boots dug in. Clint peeled away to clear their lane with a scatter of arrowheads and a very loud opinion of Outriders. Serena matched Nick’s pace, breath knifing, ribs complaining. The music kept pace with them, snarling in her ear.

“What changed your mind?” she asked, eyes scanning for the next portal, the next friendly set of hands, the next obstacle trying to write them out of existence.

Nick kept his eyes forward, mouth ticking like the admission pained him. “I had a change of heart.”

She cut him a look. “You had a what.”

He sighed. “Mom yelled at me.”

Serena snorted despite herself, ducking under a ruptured girder as it spun past. “Fair. What did Alison and Felicity say?”

“Alison said—and I quote—‘Do not come home bloodied unless you plan to repaint the entire townhome yourself.’” He hopped a crack, feet never slowing. “Felicity asked if my ‘work costume’ had a cape. I told her no. She told me that was stupid and made me put on the old chest piece so she could take a picture with ‘Super Dad.’”

“That tracks,” Serena said, throat tight around the laugh that wanted out. She glanced over at him and found, for one quick breath, the boy who used to jump off docks into cold water just to make her shriek.

They crested the ridge. The field yawned below them, alive with fire and motion and the thud of impossible hooves. Strange’s portals flickered in and out along the line like heartbeat spikes. Serena pointed with her chin toward the far side where Valkyrie’s pegasus was banking long and low. “Next handoff’s down there.”

“Copy,” Nick said.

A Chitauri rider dropped into their path, spear tip sparking. Nick had the gauntlet in one arm and his blade in the other before Serena could swear; one clean stroke and the rider hit dirt in two pieces. Serena clipped an Outrider that lunged for his calves and kept moving. Her lungs felt like glass. The wrongness lapped at her heels, cold and insistent, but she kept it out of her hands, out of her feet. Later. Later.

Tony streaked overhead, Rescue on his wing, strafing a line clear through the press. Downfield, Steve brought Mjolnir down in a sweep that cracked the air. For a half-beat he was backlit by lightning and ruin and Serena felt something unhelpful in her chest try to melt.

“Eyes up,” Nick muttered. “You can make heart-eyes at your thunder god later.”

“Eat glass,” she shot back, and then grabbed his elbow—“Left!”—as a dropship vomited Outriders into their lane.

They cut that corner hard. Below them the relay shifted again—a wall of Wakandan shields opening like a mouth, sorcerers carving circles into the air, the gauntlet crossing from one set of hands to another like a spark people refused to let die.

“Hey!” a young voice breathless and excited piped up somewhere near their knees. Serena glanced down just long enough to see a kid in red and blue skid on webbing and bounce back to his feet. He pointed at the com in his ear as the guitar lick tore through another chorus. “I love AC/DC!”

“Living Colour,” Serena corrected without slowing. “Run, kid.”

“Running!” he chirped, and flung himself into the fight like a slingshot.

They hit the slope, momentum on their side. Somewhere behind them, T’Challa blew past with the kind of grace that made physics feel cheap, a shimmering wall of Dora splitting in his wake. He flashed Nick the quickest of looks—the kind men who’d bled in the same dirt shared without words—and then was gone, the gauntlet trading hands again, the line rippling forward.

Rocket slid into step on Serena’s other side, panting, hauling a gun almost too large for his small, furious body. He spared Nick a glance, rolled his eyes with deep, performative suffering. “I leave you people alone for five minutes…”

“Missed you too, trash panda,” Nick called, and Rocket groaned like he’d swallow a grenade just to be spared another Pierce sibling.

They ran. The field roared. Above them, Steve pulled lightning out of a sky that had sworn it was done with them, and below, the ground shook with the weight of everyone who’d refused to stay gone.

The song in Serena’s ear hit its last defiant refrain, and for once the wrongness in her chest had nothing to say. She ran until her body remembered how to be a blade, until breath became movement and movement became the only prayer that mattered.

 

Notes:

The final battle has begun!

As always, let me know your predictions!

Chapter 61: Chapter 61

Flashback

1 Week Earlier

Location: Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

The lab smelled like ethanol and sun-warmed plastic, soft hum undercut by the hush of scales against glass. Serena had Sabine looped across her shoulders like a living scarf while a benchtop spectrometer crawled through another run of antivenom fractions. The inland taipan was quiet and curious, tongue tasting the air near Serena's jaw as if approving the work.

Down the hall, metal shrieked and someone swore. Translation: Stark and Lang were "calibrating" the Quantum Gate with a torque wrench and hope.

Bruce padded in with a tablet under one arm and a pint of melting Hunka Hulka Burning Fudge in the other. He took in the terrariums, the labeled vials, Sabine's lazy coil, and exhaled like this, at least, made sense.

"You sure you don't want a face shield?" he asked mildly.

Serena slid a microvial into the rack. "She doesn't bite unless she's provoked. You, on the other hand, owe me something."

Bruce blinked. "Do I?"

"Your super-soldier trials," she said, eyes still on the readout. "The ones that didn't make a soldier. I want to see where you went wrong."

He went still for a fraction, then set down the ice cream and the tablet. "You don't have to—"

"I'm not judging," she said, gentle for her. "I'm curious. And I'm building countermeasures that need to play nice with very angry biochemistry."

His mouth tugged. "It wasn't... just biochemistry."

"I know." She finally looked at him. "Gamma as a Vita-Ray analog. Bio-Tech Force Enhancement. A serum scaffold that should have been elegant—if the catalyst hadn't blown the doors off."

Bruce's eyes creased. "Pretty much."

"Show me."

He hesitated, then swiped open an archive. The screen filled with equations and sketches—binding curves, carrier designs, exposure schedules. A younger Bruce's handwriting laced through it all: precise, hopeful, just shy of manic.

He talked her through it, voice even. "Original Erskine serum used a catalyzed conformational change—think... allostasis with a push. We tried to replicate the catalytic energy with low-dose gamma. Deliver serum, expose tissue, lock the change in place. In theory, you reduce variability; in practice—"

"The gamma cooked your inhibitor," Serena murmured, already tracing the chain. "You lost control of the gating. No scaffold, no off-switch."

Bruce exhaled. "Yeah."

"Let me copy this."

He handed over the tablet. "Be careful."

"Always."

A clatter from the workshop, then Tony's voice through the open doorway, bright with that brand of cheer that meant something broke. "Hey Viper, how's the artisanal poison-crafting coming? We're building a time machine and you're running a farmer's market for murder noodles."

Serena didn't look up. "Every minute you speak, a neuron dies. Think about the cumulative harm."

"Ah, the old 'silence saves brains' gambit. Classic." Tony leaned on the jamb, eyeing Sabine with theatrical suspicion. "If the snake eats anybody, I'm billing you."

"She only eats the deserving." Serena flicked him a glance. "Which reminds me—shut the door."

Tony grinned, shut it, and left.

Bruce huffed. "He's not wrong about the optics—"

"The optics can kiss my ass," Serena said, already moving. "You said your inhibitor referenced a tetrameric gate?"

"Right. It was supposed to close once the serum hit target saturation."

"And gamma blew the hinge." She pulled a marker, uncapped it with her teeth, and started on the glass board. Molecular rungs. A carrier shell. A gate that wasn't a gate at all but a lock-and-key that only turned when two things happened at once. "You needed a paired key—not just dose, but a biochemical context that cannot exist without intention."

Bruce watched her hand race. "You're thinking... what, a tether?"

"An interlock," she said. "Your catalyst doesn't touch the serum until the interlock sees a specific set of signals. ATP salvage, ROS scavenging, calcium homeostasis stabilized—and most importantly, a reversible quench on the inflammatory cascade, so when you flip the wall switch you don't set the building on fire."

Bruce's brow lifted. "Do you have that?"

She tapped the rack of labeled vials: B. atrox antiserum—α, D. russelii antiserum—γ, and a series of clear fractions marked with her tight hand. "I built it five years ago and then pretended I didn't. Neurotoxin antidotes are exquisite at modulating ion channels without ripping the door off the hinges. If you marry your corrected scaffold to my antidote—if the interlock only accepts that signature—you can meter your change without an explosion."

Bruce thought about it, then nodded slowly. "I can buy that. How do you test it?"

Serena capped the marker. "On something that can't sue."

He smiled despite himself and slid the tablet her way. "Send me your notes. I'll run simulations, but the Gate needs me. Scott is about to duct-tape 'quantum' to a toaster."

"Go build a hole in reality," she said, already at the hood. "I'll keep us from dying when we fall through."

He left.

She stripped her lab coat, gloved up, and laid out the day: three columns of work, two dangerously compatible obsessions. On one side, she stabilized the venoms she'd milked into clean fractions; on the other, she dismantled and rebuilt Bruce's formula, layer by layer. Carrier first—lipid-nano hybrid with a slow-release shell. Then the interlock: her antidote fractions braided into a reversible gate that would only open if the cell was in a state she defined. Not healthy—salvageable. Then the catalyst—not gamma; a biochemical shove that would wake the door instead of blowing it out: pulsed photonic energy at a non-ionizing wavelength to prime the scaffold, plus a chemical cofactor to do what Erskine's Vita-Rays once did without irradiating the room.

She lost time the way she only did when the work felt like prayer. Somewhere in the middle of a run she realized the nausea that had been riding her since she got here had receded to a dull, ignorable edge. Somewhere near the end, she realized she hadn't breathed properly in ten minutes and had to let air back in before the room went black.

A knuckle rapped the glass.

Steve, soft around the eyes, bruised around the mouth. "Hey."

Serena didn't turn, pipetting as if the tube might explode if she looked away. "Hey."

"How's the arsenal?"

"Snakes are happy," she said. "Antidotes are cleaner."

He stepped inside, gaze roaming the terrariums, the board, the work. "What are you doing?"

"Still synthesizing neurotoxins," she lied smoothly, not meeting his eyes.

He waited, the way he did when he knew there was more and wasn't going to force it. "Okay," he said finally, and brushed a finger along the back of her hand, a quiet benediction. "Don't skip dinner."

"I won't." She would. He knew it. He kissed her forehead anyway and left.

Serena stared at the two syringes on the tray. One held Viper-12—a stabilized blend built on Sabine's venom, tuned for quick neural shutdown on hostile targets. The other—clear, almost innocent—held the interlock-catalyst hybrid she'd just birthed out of Bruce's sins and her own.

"Let's see who you are," she said to the clear one, and reached for the test subjects.

They were feeder rats, humanely euthanized earlier for Sabine's feeding cycle. She picked the smallest, laid it on a chilled mat, anatomical landmarks quick and precise in her mind. No heartbeat. No breath. She drew a small dose of Viper-12, injected intraperitoneally—establishing the endpoint she'd built the antidote to reverse—then, on the other side, eased in a measured line of the interlock.

She set the rat under a low-wattage photonic panel, wavelength tuned to the prime frequency she'd chosen—warm, non-ionizing light like a winter sun. A timer clicked on the bench.

She watched for five minutes. Ten. The work around her called. She didn't move.

Sabine lifted her head, tongue tasting the air.

"Not for you yet," Serena murmured without looking. "Patience."

Fifteen minutes: nothing. Twenty-five: the faintest flicker on the capillary perfusion sensor, so small it could have been error. Thirty: a whisper of electrical activity along a muscle bundle, random and weak. Serena didn't let herself feel it. Forty: the sarcomere length trace shifted again, not random now, orderly. Fifty-five: a little hiss on the tympanic mic.

At sixty-three minutes, the rat pulled in a slow, ugly breath and coughed.

Serena didn't move for a second—just stared as if stillness might keep it real. Then she leaned in, hands steady when she expected them to shake, and checked the tiny heart. It fluttered—weak, then stronger. The oxygen saturation climbed like a fever breaking.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

Sabine pressed her head against the glass, as if she, too, had questions.

Serena lifted the rat, gentle as a relic, and set it in a warmed recovery box. It blinked, sluggish and offended, and then—because rats don't know how to be miracles—started to clean its whiskers.

She sat back on the stool, heartbeat in her throat, every inch of her training yelling about controls and confounds and do it again. She did it again. A second rat. Same protocol. This time the recovery was fifty minutes, the cough less ugly, the first stand sloppy but sure.

Her eyes stung. She told herself it was the ethanol.

A knock, then Tony's head in the doorway like a nosy gargoyle. "Status check! How are we on boutique snake sauce and ethically ambiguous science?"

Serena swiveled a tray over the recovery box and turned just enough that the angle hid the small breathing animal behind her elbow. "We're on schedule."

Tony's eyes narrowed at the glass board, then her face. "You're doing a face."

"This is my face."

"The one you do when you've decided to break God's favorite rule."

She met his gaze. "Go calibrate your toaster."

"Already did. It's a panini press now." He pointed at the photonic panel. "You tanning vermin?"

"Testing a gate."

"On rats?"

"On myself, later, if you don't leave."

He gave her a look that said I will tell on you and a second look that said I know I won't. "Fine. Dinner in twenty. If you miss it, I'm stealing your coffee beans."

He left.

Serena turned back to the box. Two rats, breathing. No spontaneous fibrillation. No seizure. EEG: messy, then cleaning. Labs: resuming. She let herself feel exactly one thing, and it wasn't triumph. It was a thin wire of fear.

Because if it worked on a rat that had been dead ten minutes, then an hour, what was this?

Not a serum. Not an antidote. A... thread. Something you could tie to a body lost in the labyrinth and lead it out if you got there fast enough.

She wrote a name on the top of the page before her hands could shake.

Ariadne.

She underlined it once. Then she drew a box around the interlock sequence and wrote, in smaller script beneath:

Do not use. Not on humans. Not without oversight. Not without—

She didn't finish the sentence. She set her pen down and watched Sabine watch her, both of them very quiet in a room full of humming machines and sleeping miracles.

Outside, down the corridor, the Gate crackled and stuttered, a baby learning to breathe. Upstairs, Steve's footsteps paced once past the door and then away again, not knocking this time.

Serena slid the notebook into the back of a locked drawer, reset the photonic panel, and reached for fresh gloves.

"Back to poisons," she told the snakes, and to herself. "We still have a heist to run."

Sabine flicked her tongue against the glass, as if to say: Then hurry.

Present Day

Location: Avengers Compound Ruins - Upstate New York

They ran like the earth itself was hunting them—Nick with the ruined gauntlet clamped to his ribs, Serena half a stride off his shoulder, breath burning, boots chewing up the broken turf. The battle rolled and bucked around them: Wakandan shields flaring, sorcerers carving rings into the air, ships screaming low and dying loud.

A blur of black vibranium slid in from their flank, the ground dimpling under his first step.

T’Challa matched their speed without looking winded, helmet lifting to reveal that fierce, impossible calm. His glance flicked to the thing in Nick’s arms, then to Nick’s eyes—an entire trust fall in one heartbeat.

“Brother! Hunter, let me take it!”

Nick didn’t hesitate. Family was family, blood or not. He shoved the gauntlet into T’Challa’s hands. “Take it and don’t look back.”

T’Challa nodded once and exploded forward—effortless, a black panther leaving two humans in his slipstream, the gauntlet flashing like caged lightning under his arm as he sprinted into the thickest part of hell.

Above, hooves beat air. Valkyrie wheeled her pegasus, braid snapping, eyes cutting over the chaos until they snagged on the ugliest thing on the field: LUIS’ dented brown van.

“Yeah. But you’re not going to like where it’s parked,” she said, voice flat over the comms as she banked away.

Tony arrowed overhead. “Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?”

“Uh, maybe ten minutes,” Scott said, already winded at the very idea.

“Get it started,” Steve said, eyes never leaving the tide. “We’ll get the stones to you.”

“We’re on it, Cap,” Hope answered, already cutting downfield toward the van.

Nick and Serena dropped behind the jagged rib of a half-buried column to catch a half-breath and immediately regretted it. Twenty yards away, two shapes broke clean out of the melee, moving with the cold purpose of people who’d trained their whole lives for this exact geometry: Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight.

Serena’s eyes widened despite herself. Another lifetime: Wakanda in smoke and red sun, a spear whistling past her ear, the jeer of a woman who enjoyed the kill too much. That Proxima died in a vengeance of a tired, younger, and more naïve Serena. This one was younger, meaner—and those eyes did not know Serena at all.

Nick’s voice went iron-flat. “Lock the fuck in.”

Serena exhaled once, cut her fear down to something small enough to keep in a pocket. “I don’t suppose you have Beyoncé to play me in, do you?”

“No,” Nick said, already thumbing his playlist, mouth twisting. “I got something better.”

The first bright, ridiculous bars of the Spice Girls detonated in her ear.

Wannabe...of all songs.

She stared at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Felicity’s favorite movie right now is Spice World,” he said, deadpan, stepping out from cover as Corvus angled to flank. “So naturally I have all their songs on here.”

Proxima leveled her spear. Serena rolled her shoulders once, felt the old coil slide back into her muscles, and smiled like a wolf. “Round three.”

They collided.

Proxima came on fast and surgical, spear testing every guard, every joint. Serena met her with short, economy violence: elbows, knife checks, the low sweep that takes a stance apart at the ankles. Corvus scythed in from the side—Nick caught the blade on crossed daggers, booted Corvus in the knee, then drove an uppercut that cracked bone and pride.

Across the riverbank, the Sanctuary-2 redoubled its bombardment, shells chewing trenches toward the dam. The ground shook with the deep, wrong rhythm of a thing that knows exactly how to break a continent. Then—

Everything went silent.

Rocket, crouched behind half a Quinjet, peeked up in baffled delight as the cannons of the great ship pivoted away from the lines and toward the sky.

Sam streaked overhead, wings cutting dark shapes out of the smoke. “What the hell is this?”

Tony pitched his voice upward. “Friday, what are they firing at?”

“Something just entered the upper atmosphere,” FRIDAY said in his ear.

Rocket looked up, ears canted. A white-gold blaze ripped across the clouds, growing too bright to look at. Groot, small beside him for once, tugged Rocket’s elbow.

“I am Groot,” he said, nervous and tiny.

Rocket grinned despite himself. “Just wait for it.”

The comet veered hard—and aimed straight at the ship.

It hit like a god’s answer. BOOM. It lanced through the Sanctuary-2, out the far side—Carol Danvers revealed in its wake, hair haloed, eyes already hunting.

“Oh, yeah!” Rocket whooped as she turned, glowed hotter, and went binary—rocketing back through the hull. Engines tore loose. Fire bloomed.

“Danvers!” Steve’s voice over the comms—urgent, hoarse. “We’re gonna need an assist down here!”

“Roger… Rogers…” she said, under ragged breath, already lining up her next run.

In the van, Scott twisted wires on the Quantum Tunnel, hotwiring genius with panic. “I’m almost there. Where’s the glove?”

Down in the churn, T’Challa’s route collapsed under a wave of Outriders. He dove, rolled, came up inside a ring of teeth and claws. The gauntlet flipped once, twice—webbing snapped it out of the air.

Peter Parker skidded backward on a knee, clutching the thing to his chest like it was a football he’d promised Queens. He spun—and froze. A woman in star-burnished blue landed in front of him, light fading off her shoulders like breath.

“Uh, hey,” he blurted, because he was still a kid even here. “I’m Peter Parker.”

“Hey, Peter Parker,” Carol said, eyes on the horizon. “You got something for me?”

He handed it over, gaze ricocheting from the sea of enemies to the tiny van in the distance. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that—”

“Don’t worry, kid…” Wanda said, appearing like a weather event. Beside her—Okoye, Gamora, Nebula, Valkyrie banking low, Hope and Shuri sliding into position.

“She’s got help,” Okoye said, lip curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Carol tucked the gauntlet like it belonged under her arm and kicked for the air. Pepper arced in, Mantis dropped light and strange behind them, and then they were moving as one—cutting a ragged, unstoppable line.

On the ridge, Serena and Proxima broke apart in a snarl of breath. “You’re tiresome,” Proxima hissed, and went high with the spear like a headsman.

“New critic,” Serena replied—and moved.

Nick had switched the playlist, the sharp, strutting drum of “Who Do You Think You Are” snapping through Serena’s blood like caffeine. She feinted left, drew the guard, then executed a move she hadn’t let herself touch since Langley: weight shift, calf hook, hip torque—a savage, elegant spiral that stole balance and breath in one go.

The French TKO.

Proxima hit the ground so hard the dirt leapt. Her spear skittered. Serena was already on it—hands a blur—reversing grip and driving the blade clean through before the woman’s eyes could catch up with the fear. Proxima arched, spat blood, and went still.

Steve slid in beside Serena a heartbeat later, chest heaving, lightning burned off him but not out of him. He glanced from the body to Serena’s hands. “What was that?”

“French TKO,” she said, as if they were talking sparring in a quiet gym and not murder in a dying world. “Trick I built at Langley. Haven’t pulled it in years.”

He opened his mouth—to say what, she’d never know.

Thanos hit her like a truck.

"Ser!" Steve shouted, before sprinting in her direction.

The Titan’s shoulder smashed into her ribs, sending her flying. She skidded, ate dirt, tasted pennies. Thanos didn’t spare her a second glance—he reached down and tore Proxima’s spear from the ground, flexing his hand around its weight like greeting an old friend.

Across the field, Carol and the line of women carved through Thanos’s army, a comet dragging a pride behind it. Thanos tracked their path like a hunter marks wind drift—followed it to the little van that held the stupid salvation of the stupid world.

On the comm, Scott’s voice was a ragged triumph. “Thirty seconds!”

The Quantum Tunnel roared awake in the van’s gutted cargo bay, white light unfurling like a skein.

Carol put her head down and flew for all she was worth.

The Titan cocked his arm like a pitcher in the bottom of the ninth and threw.

The spear’s scream chewed the air. It knifed past Carol, past the last line of sorcerers holding back the river—and into the van.

BOOM.

The van blew apart, heat flattening the grass for thirty yards, Scott tumbling out the side door with a yelp as Carol pinwheeled, caught herself, and punched a hole through a dropship out of sheer rage.

Thanos lifted his hand—and Proxima’s spear leapt back to it like a falcon to a fist.

For one terrible breath, everything slowed.

The gauntlet lay in the dirt—small, obscene, bright. Steve saw it. Thor saw it. Tony saw it.

So did Thanos.

Serena rolled to her knees, head ringing, mouth iron. Her eyes found Steve first—he was already moving, broken shield clenched, jaw set—and then the gauntlet beyond him, and then the Titan between.

“On your feet,” Nick said, sliding in beside her, blade up, blood running down from a slice she hadn’t seen him take. He flicked her a look that made room for no argument. “We’re not done.”

She got up.

Behind them, water hammered the cracked face of the dam. Overhead, Strange’s portals flared and fell like breath. Out in the bowl, the world’s worst man started running.

And Serena, who had spent a lifetime refusing to let fear drive her, put her eyes on the ugliest path between here and hope—and ran it.

 

Notes:

What do we think Serena was thinking with that new synthesis????

Drop your predictions below for how the rest goes!

Let me know if you have any questions!

Chapter 62: Chapter 62

Present Day

Avengers Compound Ruins - Upstate New York

They were all hands and desperation when the gauntlet hit the dirt.

They crashed together in a knot of armor and sweat and prayer, and for a dizzy second Serena thought the whole world might tip if any one of them let go. Thanos didn’t. He ripped the thing up with a grunt that felt like the earth itself answering his name, booted Thor aside, swatted Tony away, then squeezed the crushed frame, popping it open just enough to wedge his hand inside.

Steve lunged, and the Titan caught him by the throat, fingers closing, eyes bored. Free, Thanos slipped the glove over his knuckles. His jaw fixed.

Before he could close his fist, she hit him.

Carol smashed into him like a second sun, palms braced, teeth bared. He headbutted her. She didn’t move. She pressed him down, muscles trembling as she held his fingers apart—

—and then he did the ugliest smart thing in any universe, ripping the Power Stone free and blasting it straight into her with a punch that sent her pinwheeling through air and ruin.

The field went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with sound. Now, nothing stood in Thanos’ way.

Tony stumbled to a knee, helmet cracked, breathing like it hurt. From across the crater, the river finally lost the argument with physics. Water started to spill into the bowl. Strange stood in it, cloak whipping, both hands raised, fighting back a tide that did not care about magic.

He looked at Tony.

Tony looked back.

It was the smallest thing. Strange lifted a single finger. “One.”

Across the churn, Thanos shoved the Power Stone back into its nest. Energy crawled up his arm—beautiful, terrible—

—and Tony moved, lunging with everything he had left, nanotech clamping the Titan’s hand in a vice. Thanos wrenched free and flung him like trash. He lifted his hand anyway, triumphant.

“I am… inevitable.”

He snapped.

Nothing happened.

Confusion cracked his face. He turned the glove over.

The stones were gone.

Tony stood ten paces away, nano-particles sliding and shifting, knitting themselves into a new gauntlet on his own ruined arm. Six stones landed in six sockets with a sound that shouldn’t have been a sound at all. It hit him like lightning in bone. He still lifted his hand.

“And I… am Iron Man.”

He snapped.

WHOOSH—

The tidal wall vanished into mist. All over the battlefield, Sakaarans and Outriders folded in on themselves, atoms unmaking in a soft, horrifying bloom. In the sky, ships turned to dust. Culls. Chitauri. Ranks thinning in a breath, an army collapsing into air.

Thanos stood alone. A long moment. He sat, almost carefully, on a chunk of rock and watched the end come for him. It did, down to the smallest particle.

Across the field, Quill spun toward Gamora, triumphant and dazed. “Babe? Gamora?” She was already gone, time’s needle pulling thread.

Tony fell back against an upturned root, armor smoked black, his right arm withered to charcoal.

Rhodey skidded in first. One look and his face broke open with a grief men like him never let anyone see. He squeezed Tony’s shoulder anyway, because you do it even when it’s too late.

A boy landed next—helmeted, damp-eyed, choking on words that were bigger than his chest. “Mr. Stark… Tony… it’s okay, it’s okay… Mr. Stark, we won. You did it, sir…”

Tony stared past him, not because he didn’t hear, but because the thing in him that finally let go was older than any of this. Rhodey’s hand came down gentle on Peter’s shoulder. He steered him aside.

Pepper came last. She knelt like she’d been punched and wasn’t going to show it. “Hey, Friday, what’ve we got?”

“Life functions critical,” FRIDAY said softly.

Pepper’s face said she’d already known. She cupped Tony’s cheek. “Tony, look at me. We’re going to be okay…”

His eyes flooded. He told her I’m sorry without sound.

She kissed him. When she drew back, her voice didn’t shake. “You can rest now.”

He did. His eyes fixed, and everything went still in the way that changes a room forever.

All around them, the people who’d outlived gods realized what that felt like.

Tony Stark was gone.

Serena stood there and forgot how to breathe.

Dust drifted like ash. The sound of the river came back in edges. Somewhere behind her, Valkyrie’s pegasus stamped and snorted, the war animal anxious now that a different kind of war was over. People moved—small movements only, like everyone was afraid any sudden motion might crack the moment and let the grief spill everywhere.

She found her hands because she needed something to do with them. When she looked down, she realized she’d tucked herself behind a half-collapsed wall without knowing it. Her fingers were tight around the little leather pouch she’d strapped to her harness at the start of the heist.

Two vials of clear amber—the last of the neurotoxins she’d cooked as insurance.

One vial green as a ghost, the liquid catching light in a way that made her knuckles ache.

Ariadne.

She’d sworn, when the white rat’s chest had shivered under her palm and then steadied again, that she would never put this in a human vein. The rule had been simple and sharp: I am not God. I am not playing one. No human trials. Not ever.

Her thumb worried the lip of the glass, a nervous, un-Serena gesture that would have earned her a look from her mother. She made herself slide the vial back into shadow and made herself stand there until her lungs found the rhythm again.

Not here. Not with half the universe watching. Not in front of Pepper. Not in front of Peter with his hands still empty of the man who’d taught him how to hold them steady.

Fewer people. If she did this, she had to do it where the world couldn’t interfere.

The thought hit her and she hated herself for thinking it while Pepper still knelt with her forehead to the man she’d built a life with. The hatred dwindled and settled into something harder. Resolve wasn’t clean. It never had been.

She dropped her gaze. The green glass pushed back like an eye.

Her mind slid, unbidden, to Alexandria, to a house that had always smelled like paper and polish and a brand of perfume that told you a woman could love you and be cruel to you at the same time. Felicita had been cold, yes, but never hollow. Her love was architecture—load-bearing and inflexible. “Perfection is protection,” her mother used to say, not unkindly, when Serena’s arabesque wobbled or her Farsi slipped on her tongue. Felicita taught her to press a crease with the patience of a surgeon. To play scales until the piano sighed and gave up arguing. To say please and thank you and mean both like they were weapons.

Alexander had taught her absence.

He’d taught her how to swallow a lie because it came in her father’s voice. He’d taught her that a house full of trophies and pressed Navy blues can still be a ruin if the man who wears them is building a different life in the walls. Later, he’d teach her that monsters don’t come with fangs—they come with invitations embossed with your name. He’d taught her how to hold betrayal in her mouth so long it turned into habit.

Trauma hadn’t broken her. It had laid tracks. Years later, she still felt the car of herself jump as it crossed them.

She looked back at Pepper and thought, absurdly, of school mornings—her own, and then Morgan’s, the ones she’d heard about secondhand. Steve had told her, one warm afternoon in Alexandria, how Tony would drop the façade when he thought no one saw and kneel to tie a purple sneaker like he was aligning stars. How he’d learned to braid hair because it made Morgan look like a pirate. How he’d become the kind of father who showed up for the party even when showing up meant reliving the parts of himself he hated.

“You should’ve seen him,” Steve had said, an old, private smile at the edge of his mouth. “He was happy.”

Serena closed her eyes. She saw a little girl with a messy ponytail and a world suddenly missing one shape. She saw her own childhood overlaid on it like a bad tracing—cold breakfasts, father gone, mother’s love translated into tasks, the sound a house makes when relief pretends to be order. No child deserved that.

Especially not Tony Stark’s child, whose father had finally learned how to be the thing he’d spent his whole life pretending he didn’t need to be.

Break the rule.

The thought came quiet. It didn’t shout or threaten. It just stood next to her and fit.

She slid Ariadne deeper into the pouch, like hiding it would stop it from being the loudest thing on her body. Around them, movement rippled; people commenced the terrible logistics of aftermath. Strange staggered, then straightened; the wizards drew the river back into its bed with shaking hands. Valkyrie peeled away to rally the stunned remnants of her people. Nurses—God, there were still nurses—arrived and then stopped, useless in a place where the only thing anyone needed was beyond them.

Serena stepped back into motion before anyone could read her face. She found Steve first, because she always did. He was still as a struck bell, looking at the thing he could not fix. She touched his elbow, once.

“I need air,” she said, soft.

He glanced at her—one fast sweep, checking for holes—and nodded. He didn’t say be careful. He didn’t have to. They were past the part of themselves that needed words for that.

She moved with the slow drift of the living, made herself unimportant, threaded between bodies and smoke. At the edge of the crater she looked back once, because she couldn’t help it. Pepper bent her head over Tony’s chest, eyes closed. Peter stood with his hands awkward and empty at his sides, like he’d forgotten what to do with them if there wasn’t a web to sling. Rhodey had one fist pressed to his mouth, looking at everything and nothing. Rocket’s ears were down. Thor’s shoulders looked smaller than they had any right to be. Bruce stared at his ruined arm and seemed to be counting breaths. T’Challa rested his palm on Okoye’s shoulder. Wanda stood alone, face turned to where the wind had taken her rage.

Serena turned away.

In the shadow of a shattered wall, she let herself breathe like a thief. The Hudson smell came up over the wet mud and the stink of burned ozone. Her hands were steady when she touched the pouch again.

“I am not God,” she whispered, and heard her mother correct her posture. “But I am my mother’s daughter.”

Ariadne was cool against her fingers. Somewhere in her skull, the little voice that had been sick and wrong all day uncoiled and went quiet, as if the decision had been the only medicine it wanted.

Not here. Not now. Later. Quietly. Clean.

She tucked the vial back into the small pouch on her belt and squared her shoulders before she rejoined the others. If anyone looked, they saw the Director again, composed enough to pass. Inside, the girl Felicita had built had already laid out the plan in tidy steps.

No little girl goes to bed in a house made of absence if Serena can help it.

She would apologize to her own rules later. She would answer for it then. For now, she did the only thing Felicita ever taught that stuck like a creed.

She chose.

An hour later, the battlefield sounded like a hospital and a shipyard had collided.

Rotors thudded as medevac birds pivoted in and out. Fire engines screamed, then idled as crews drowned the last pockets of flame. Heavy-lift drones groaned, prying apart slabs of concrete that had once been walls. Along the riverbank, Coast Guard cutters nosed through oil-slick water, searchlights combing for anyone the blast or the surge might’ve thrown wide. EMTs moved with that strange combination of urgency and hush people use when they’re trying not to spook the living.

Humanitarian teams fanned out beyond the compound’s fences, eyes on neighborhoods that had watched a war reappear on their horizon. Someone started a list of addresses with broken windows. Someone started a list of names. Someone rolled up tarps for cots no one wanted to think about using.

Everett was already picking his way through wreckage with a Pelican case and a scowl. He stopped at anything that hummed, clicked, or glowed, folding shards into foam cutouts with the satisfaction of a man who liked his secrets alphabetized. “Anything alien goes to the Langley freezer,” he told a young agent who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Anything magical goes in a box we don’t open. Anything that looks like it came out of Stark—” he hesitated, flicked his eyes toward the ridge, softened a hair “—we hold for Pepper.”

Everett let out a sigh before walking over to Serena and Nick, and even after all these years after he divorced Val, he still considered the two of them to be his niece and nephew.

"You two alright?" He asked with concern before pulling them both into a hug.

"We're alright." Serena murmured into his shoulder. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." He sighed before gesturing to the car approaching. "But they'll probably tell you something different."

A black SUV fishtailed to a stop on the churned lawn. Doors snapped open. Nick was still in the field, armor grime-slick and smiling crooked at the sight of the woman stepping out—crimson coat, pearls untouched by dust, fury held on a short, elegant leash.

“Tu étais censé m’appeler, (You were supposed to call me,)" Felicita said, and then she had both her children in her arms before the sentence finished, crushing them against perfume and wool. 

“On se battaient, (We were fighting,)" Nick mumbled into her shoulder, which was as close to an apology as he ever offered.

“Je sais.” Her hand found the back of Serena’s head, fingers sliding into her braid like she could anchor her there. “Ça va?” (I know. Are you okay?)

“Je suis là,” Serena managed. (I’m here.) It was enough.

Felicita released them with a last squeeze and turned, wiping her eyes with a motion that erased the gesture as she made it. Another door opened. Fury climbed out, and for a beat the old reflex warred with the new reality. Then he crossed the churned ground without a word and pulled both Pierces into a fierce, awkward hug that smelled like leather and cordite. His chin bumped the top of Serena’s head. “Don’t do that again,” he muttered, voice scraped thin. It could’ve meant anything. It meant everything. 

Hill was right behind him. She didn’t speak either. She just caught Serena and held on, knuckles hard between Serena’s shoulder blades, breathing hitching once before she locked it down. Serena felt her own do the same. When they finally let go, it was only far enough to look each other over like sisters do after a car crash, hands still on each other's shoulders.

Felicita drew a breath that steadied other people. “Damage control,” she told Fury and Everett, already walking, grief folded into purpose. “On n’a pas fini.” We’re not done.

When they did separate, Hill’s hands stayed on Serena’s shoulders an extra second. “Don’t vanish on me,” she said, voice rough.

“I won’t,” Serena lied.

The tent sat on the far side of the crater, a white triangle in a sea of ruin. Two Marines stood outside, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes careful. Serena ducked under the flap and into the quiet.

Someone had done what they could. A folding table. Two chairs. A cot they hadn’t used. And in the middle, a body beneath a gray blanket, the arc of armor at the chest turned black and wrong. Pepper sat on a crate beside him, fingers laced through his hand as if bones could still answer. Rhodey stood like a door that refused to admit the word. Thor had his eyes shut, head bowed. Bruce looked like a man who’d seen his own arm in a stranger’s casket. Steve didn’t move. Clint’s eyes were red. Sam stared at the canvas roof as if it might split open and give them another miracle.

Peter stood a step back, palms against his thighs, like if he set them anywhere else he might shatter. He looked nineteen and nine at the same time.

Strange was a stillness in the corner—the kind of stillness that made you think of weather patterns and chess clocks. He lifted his gaze when Serena entered and, for once, didn’t fill the silence with mysticism. “It was the only way,” he said quietly. “If we avoided it, everything else failed.”

Serena nodded once, because she believed him and because belief didn’t make this any easier.

She took two steps forward. The blanket made her angry. The blanket made her grateful. She swallowed.

“I might be able to bring him back,” she said.

They looked at her like she’d grown a second mouth.

“I’m not joking.” She opened the pouch on her harness. The green glass caught the tent’s thin light.

Bruce frowned, the scientist creeping back to the surface out of habit. “That’s not how this works.”

“I know what this sounds like,” she said, cutting gently. “I wouldn’t believe me either. But I built something—by accident—before we jumped. I corrected your old SSR matrix, Bruce. The one you were going to use, before… you became you.”

His shoulders drew tight. He didn’t look defensive so much as flayed. “That work was never finished for a reason.”

“Because your carrier collapsed under gamma load.” She didn’t soften it. “You used a linear jump to push a serum through cell membranes that were already screaming. You got a bigger scream.”

He stared. The others stared at him, then at her, like they’d wandered into a conversation that had started a decade ago.

“I flipped the transport,” Serena said. “I used an antidote as the gate, not the payload. Built a two-stage—a neurotoxin that shuts a system down without rupturing it, then a carrier that binds to the toxin itself as a key. Corrected your gamma timing with a micro-stutter,” she tapped the vial, “and patched your energy sink with a mitochondrial shuttle that looks like cheating. It’s not… resurrection. It’s a reset. It doesn’t fix ash. But if the lattice is still there…”

“Impossible,” Bruce said, but there wasn’t heat in it. Just fear. “Electrolyte gradients collapse. Calcium floods. ROS cascades. The brain—”

“I tested it,” Serena said, and hated how small that sounded in a room like this. “On a rat. Sabine’s venom stopped her cold. No respiration. No reflex. I was going to feed her to Sabine.” A breath. “I couldn’t. I injected the antidote-carrier blend as a joke on myself. She started breathing sixty-one minutes later. No seizure activity. No deficit I could measure.”

“That’s not how death works,” Bruce whispered.

“I know,” Serena whispered back. “It shouldn’t. None of this should. But it did.”

Pepper lifted her head. Her face was ruin and steel. “If there’s a chance,” she said, and no one mistook it for a question.

Serena nodded, the decision she’d made an hour ago landing in her bones like gravity. She glanced at Steve. For a fraction of a second, the weight in his eyes answered hers. Then he moved, as if to clear space the way you do around a surgeon. Clint shifted to the side, jaw tight. Sam squeezed Peter’s shoulder; the kid didn’t take his eyes off the table.

“Bruce,” Serena said, already reaching for tubing, for the IV kit someone had set aside and forgotten they’d set aside. “I need your hands.”

He blinked, then blinked again, and the man who’d kept a hundred people alive in a different kind of lab came forward. “Vitals?”

“None,” Rhodes said, voice a scrape. “FRIDAY’s offline. Suit’s… done.”

Serena set the green vial down so carefully you’d think it might bite. She snapped a cannula, slid a tourniquet around Tony’s left arm—the one that wasn’t charcoal—and found a vein that hadn’t retreated. She hadn’t shaken this much since she was sixteen and trying not to cry under her mother’s gaze. “Bruce, you’re my second set of eyes. Steve—monitor. If he takes a breath, you tell me before he does.”

Steve nodded, hands fast and gentle as he clipped a pulse-ox to a finger that was still warm from Pepper’s palms. Pepper didn’t move away. She didn’t get in the way. She just watched like a cliff watches the sea.

Serena palmed her antidote amp, pierced the rubber, drew back a measured 2.0 milliliters that looked like a bad idea in a syringe. “Ariadne” glowed green in its glass, not with light, but with attention.

She looked at Pepper. “Okay?”

Pepper took one breath and let it out. “Okay.”

Serena slid the needle into the line. “Gate in three… two… now.”

The antidote vanished into Tony’s arm. Nothing happened, which was, for two seconds, exactly what it was supposed to do—bind the neurotoxin that wasn’t there and sit like a lock waiting on a key.

“Ariadne,” Serena said, a name that had felt like a joke when she wrote it on the label; a thread, a way back through a maze. She swapped syringes, thumb steady. “Corrected vector, gamma-timed, mitochondrial shuttle active. If he has any lattice left…”

Bruce closed his eyes as if to say sorry to a god he didn’t believe in and opened them on faith in a person he did. “Do it.”

Serena injected the green.

For a heartbeat, the tent deepened—a hush like sound itself had leaned in.

Nothing.

Thirty seconds of nothing.

Peter made a small, unpermitted sound.

“Come on, Tony,” Rhodey whispered, the plea as old as trouble.

A flicker.

Steve’s voice came in low and fast. “QRS blip.”

Bruce bent closer, hand hovering over Tony’s sternum like he might push life back in through bone. “Could be artifact—”

The pulse-ox chirped, a single, astonished beep.

“Again,” Steve said, eyes on the little red number as if he could drag it higher by will.

It came again. A weak electrical burp. Then another. The heart didn’t resume so much as remember itself, stumbling, searching, catching, falling, catching.

Tony gasped.

Not the big, dramatic inhale they make in movies. A ragged, ugly, short sound like a man punching through a sheet of ice from underneath. Pepper’s hand flew to his jaw to keep him from biting his tongue. Serena pressed her palm flat to his shoulder to stop a convulsive jerk from ripping the cannula out.

“Easy,” she murmured, as if voice could be a bridge. “Easy. You’re here.”

Bruce’s eyes were wet. He didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. “Sinus rhythm creeping in. O-two sat climbing.”

Tony coughed. Smoke-scorched air raked his throat. He tried to sit and failed. He turned his head like it weighed forty pounds. His eyes found Pepper in a drunken, dragging slide and then landed. Recognition bloomed slow and blinding.

“Pep,” he rasped.

She laughed and sobbed in the same breath. “Hi,” she said, like they were meeting for coffee. Like anything was normal.

He swallowed and made a face. “Tastes like… frog.”

“That’s my serum,” Serena said, because humor was the ledge between terror and relief. “You’re welcome.”

Tony blinked up at her, put the voice with the face, and managed half a smirk that looked like it might break him. “Director Barbie,” he whispered, because sarcasm was the ledge he lived on. He tried to lift his right hand, winced, looked at it, and decided not to think about it yet. His gaze skated, found Peter, found Rhodey, found Steve, kept going until it tripped on Strange in the corner. The sorcerer held his eyes, didn’t blink, didn’t smile. He just nodded once.

Serena checked the line, checked Tony’s nails, checked the math an insane part of her brain was still running. “We’re not out of the woods,” she said, because the part of her Felicita had raised never let celebration outrun caution. “There’ll be organ insult. We’ll need labs. Cooling. Neuro checks every—”

“Ser,” Steve said softly.

Tony’s fingers, the ones that still listened to him, tightened around Pepper’s. He turned back to her like the room was too loud and she was the only true thing in it. “Hey,” he said, like a man who’d walked home from the dark.

Pepper put her forehead to his and breathed. “Hey.”

Outside, someone shouted for more saline. Someone called a name into a radio and got the beautiful answer, “Alive.” The word outran protocols. Someone outside yelled, “He’s breathing!” then another voice, “Stark’s alive—” and then a wave of sound as if the field itself exhaled.

The tent flap snapped and Fury ducked in with Hill on his shoulder. He stopped dead for a breath, his face going through six expressions he never let anyone see, and then he looked at Serena. “Good work,” he said, quiet enough that only she and the canvas heard it. It was the highest commendation he had.

Hill slipped an arm around Serena’s shoulders without asking. “You okay?” she murmured, a private channel in a noisy world.

Serena let her head tip against Maria’s for a second. “I feel like I want to throw up.”

Hill huffed the tiniest laugh—felt, not heard—and squeezed.

Bruce turned from Tony like someone had just moved the moon. He stared at Serena as if she were a brand-new math. “You really are a prodigy, aren’t you?”

Serena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and shrugged with a small, embarrassed tilt. “I don’t… do chemistry,” she said, which was true and not. “I just hate losing.”

“Yeah,” Tony croaked, voice raw wire, “me too.” He winced, looked down at the ruined arm, half shock, half engineer’s curiosity. “FRIDAY, add ‘buy Serena an entire lab’ to my to-do list.” He shifted, found Pepper’s eyes, let his own fill without shame. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Pepper said, and kissed his cheek, and the tent went so quiet the river sounded like a lullaby outside.

Serena’s knees went a little weak. She backed into the chair she hadn’t planned to use and sat before her legs made a decision without her. The vial in her palm—empty now—caught the light and didn’t mean anything anymore.

Bruce wiped his face with the heel of his hand and gave her a look that mixed disbelief, pride, and a scientist’s most dangerous feeling: curiosity. “We’re going to have to talk about your ‘micro-stutter.’”

“Later,” Serena said, shaky with relief. She turned the empty glass between her fingers and let herself, for one bare second, be the girl who’d wanted a mother’s advice and a world without holes. Then she tucked Ariadne’s label into her pocket and looked up.

Steve met her eyes. There was a question in his, and an answer, and something like awe he would never say out loud. She didn’t need him to.

Across the cot, Peter squeezed Tony’s shoulder very gently, like he was afraid of jostling him out of existence. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked over, still dragging breaths. “Kid.”

“We won,” Peter said, tears spilling again, unapologetic this time.

Tony blinked slow. “I saw.”

Serena leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the tent’s stale air fill her lungs like a benediction. Somewhere, a little girl with a messy ponytail would not go to bed in a house that had learned the shape of absence too early.

Outside, the river gentled against its rebuilt bank. Inside, for a long, suspended minute, the impossible sat up and remembered how to breathe. Serena stood very still in the middle of it, nausea and relief wrestling in her ribs, and let the fact of it settle like a stone at the bottom of a deep well.

She had broken her rule. She had pulled a man back across a line she’d told herself she would never touch.

She looked at Pepper’s hand on Tony’s jaw, at Peter’s white-knuckled grip, at Rhodey’s smile that made him look ten years younger for exactly one second. She thought of a little girl with dark eyes and hair in her mother’s lap and the particular quality of grief that sinks its teeth into a child and never lets go.

If breaking was what it cost to keep that off Morgan Stark’s life, then she would break again, and again, and again.

On the far side of the tent, Strange met her eyes. He didn’t smile. He just nodded once, as if to say: this was one of the ones.

Serena nodded back, throat tight, and only then realized Maria still had an arm around her. She let herself lean into it, just a little, and breathed.

 

Notes:

Hope you all liked the change I made from the original Endgame ending!

But we're not done yet!

As always, drop your predictions!

Chapter 63: Chapter 63

Present Day

Stark Residence - Upstate New York

A few days later, the world hadn't so much "snapped back" as it had inhaled—sharp, messy, miraculous—and then staggered forward on new legs. Flights reappeared on departure boards like constellations finding their shapes again. Flooded phone lines turned into crowded doorways, stoops, kitchens. Cities learned the sound of laughter layered over sirens. The living remembered how to make room for the returned.

At Midtown, Peter stepped into a hallway teeming with kids—shoulder straps squeaking, lockers slamming, a tide of voices rising and breaking. He scanned the faces like a man reading stars until he saw Ned. They froze, both of them incredulous and certain all at once, and then crashed together in a hug that didn't care who was watching.

Across the country, fireworks shouldered up over the San Francisco skyline, color shattering into color, a municipal party and a thousand private ones spliced together. On a little porch in the East Bay, Scott watched them with Cassie tucked under his arm and Hope leaning into his shoulder, all three of them grinning as if they'd invented light.

"Everybody wants a happy ending," Tony's voice said over it all, rich and intimate, the timbre of someone speaking from the inside out. "But it doesn't always roll that way. Maybe this time."

On the Barton farm, two bikes leaned against the porch like they'd been waiting five years to rust. The front door opened and Cooper and Lila came blinking into the day, Lila's hair everywhere, Cooper taller than his own memory. They peered up at the sky, hands shading their eyes. Somewhere high above, a Quinjet cut the air, angling in with the gentleness of an apology.

"I'm hoping if you play this back, it's in celebration," Tony's voice went on. "I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored. If there ever was such a thing."

In Wakanda, on the palace balcony, T'Challa folded his mother into his arms, Ramonda's hands firm against his shoulders like she could still measure his fever with her palms. Shuri turned away from them and let the sunset fill her eyes, a blaze of oranges and purples so saturated it felt like a promise.

"God, what a world. Universe, now," Tony said, wryness threading through the awe. "If you'd told me ten years ago that we weren't alone, let alone to this extent, I probably wouldn't have been surprised. But come on..."

Back at the farmhouse, the Quinjet kissed the field. The rear door yawned open. Clint stood there, shoulders squared like he feared he might dream this if he blinked. He didn't have to move. His kids did. They launched at him, arms and legs everywhere. He staggered under them, laughing and weeping in the same helpless sound, and then lifted his head to see Laura in the doorway, beaming, tearful, Nathaniel's small hand locked in hers. He gathered them all, breathing them like air.

"Who knew what epic forces of dark and light would come into play?" Tony said. "For better or worse, that's the reality our children get to grow up in."

At the lake house, the living room had turned into a chapel in spite of itself. A simple Iron Man helmet sat on the table, and from it a hologram flowered into being: Tony Stark's face, lit by soft blue and the kind of focus he only ever gave to the people he loved.

"That's why I thought I'd probably better record a little greeting, in the case of...an untimely death on my part," the hologram said. "I mean, death at any time is untimely, but...this 'time travel' thing we're going to try to pull off tomorrow has me scratching my head about the 'survivability' of it all. But that's the hero gig, right? Part of the journey is the end."

Pepper sat with Morgan curled into her side, a small hand fisted in the silk at her shoulder. Happy stood sentinel behind them, jaw tight. Rhodey was there. Thor, shaved and sober. Steve, still in black, the crispness of him softened by something gentler in his face. Bruce, one sleeve pinned up, both eyes clear. Clint, hands knotted, Laura's fingers threaded through his. Serena stood between Steve and Sam, Felicita at her other side, their grief disciplined into poise. Wanda's gaze didn't move. The room was full of the ones who'd carried the world and the ones who'd been the reason they did.

"What am I even tripping for?" Holo Tony smiled, that sideways tilt like he was in on a joke the rest of them would get later. "Everything is going to work out exactly the way it's supposed to."

For a heartbeat the projection seemed to look directly at Morgan, like the light itself could find the shape of her, and then: "I love you 3000." He reached toward the lens, and the image cut to nothing.

Pepper bent and kissed their daughter's forehead. Tears slid and no one told them where to go.

From the back of the room, the real Tony cleared his throat. The collective flinch when he moved would have been funny on a different day. He had dressed the way he always did when the moment mattered—black suit, white shirt open at the collar, no armor anywhere on him. The right arm rested heavy in a sling; the rest of him looked like a man learning how to live with quiet.

"I wanted you to see it," he said, voice low enough to ask for permission without really asking. "Because it is a kind of death. Not the one you almost had to plan. The other one." He glanced toward the dark helmet on the table. "We're not burying me today. We're burying the suit."

He let that settle, the air changing shape around it. Serena felt Steve's thumb brush the back of her hand—once, not for comfort so much as agreement.

"Iron Man kept me alive," Tony went on. "He also almost killed me more times than any of you got to count. He made things simple when simple was useful and complicated when it wasn't. He gave me an excuse to hide and a reason to stop. I'm not him anymore. I can't be and still be a father. So... we're going to do what people do when an old life ends. We're going to say a few words. We're going to go to the water. And we're going to put something down so we can carry the rest of it better."

His gaze swept the room and paused where it needed to. On Pepper. On Morgan. On Clint. On Banner. On Serena, who held his eyes like an accomplice, which in a certain light she was. "This is also for Nat," he said, and every head bowed as if on a single hinge. "She deserved a monument that isn't made of stone."

They went out together, down the back stairs in a slow procession. Pepper and Morgan carried the small ringed wreath between them—a blossom of white and blue and the old steel circle at its heart. The arc reactor winked in the sunlight, engraved words catching: Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart. Morgan's fingers smudged the glass where she'd touched it. Pepper's hands were steady.

At the lake's lip, Pepper knelt and set the flowers on the water. The wreath drifted out, caught a little current, turned once, and floated—bright, stubborn.

They fanned along the bank without anyone telling anyone else where to stand. Happy hovered behind Pepper and Morgan, a wall with hands. Then Steve, Serena, Sam, Rhodey, and Wanda. Clint with Laura, Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel, the children pressed into the line like stitches. Thor beside Bruce, both of them too big for the moment and exactly the right size. Scott and Hope, Hank Pym with his jaw set like he was still measuring risks, Janet's hand wrapped around his. Peter with Aunt May, the kid's shoulders squared like he'd grown an inch since morning. T'Challa, Okoye, and Shuri, formal and familial at once. Strange and Wong, the former's hands folded as if he could remember every version of this and had chosen this one. Quill, Nebula, Groot, Mantis, and Rocket—grief translating into fidget and stillness by turns. Bucky, silent as snowfall. Secretary Ross at a respectful distance he hadn't earned, Harley Keener lanky and solemn beside him. Felicita, Nick, Alison with a hand on Felicity's hair, Everett, Val—family by blood and battle. Maria Hill and Carol Danvers, their shadows long. And finally Fury, one eye on the wreath, the other on the horizon.

The hush that gathered wasn't the quiet of emptiness. It was the quiet of people who had run out of lies to tell themselves and found the truth bearable anyway.

On the long table inside, the Iron Man helmet sat where the hologram had left it. In the yard, Tony took Pepper's hand and Morgan's, the sling a practical complication he ignored. He didn't speak again; he didn't need to. The water did the talking, small waves tapping the metal with a sound like a heartbeat learning a new rhythm.

Later, when the light slid lower and the chill came up off the lake, they drifted into clusters that formed and reformed. Wanda stood with Clint a while, their griefs recognizing each other without introduction. Okoye spoke to Valkyrie in a low voice that sounded like the beginning of a treaty. Thor set a hand on Bruce's shoulder and squeezed. Rhodey told Peter a ridiculous story that didn't have a punchline and still made him laugh. T'Challa spoke softly with Shuri and then with Serena, something wry in his eyes when he said, "You saved a king's friend, and a child's father," and she replied, "A mother's daughter did what she had to."

Felicita slipped her fingers around Serena's and straightened the lapel of her black blazer, a small, old movement that said more than any speech. "Tu as fait un choix," she murmured. You made a choice.

"Je le porterai bien," Serena said. I will carry it properly.

Pepper lifted Morgan and whispered something into her hair. The little girl nodded seriously, as if she had just been entrusted with a secret that belonged to both of them. Tony watched them the way a man watches a fire on a cold night—grateful, chastened, warmed to the bone. 

On a campus in Queens the next morning, Peter and Ned would pretend not to cry and fail. In San Francisco, Cassie would insist the fireworks were for her and neither Scott nor Hope would argue. On a Kansas porch, Lila would tape a sign to the front door that read NO ALIENS TODAY, PLEASE in marker and Laura would leave it there, because why not. In Wakanda, Shuri would go back to her lab and refuse to explain why she was smiling. The world would keep re-threading itself, imperfect and bright.

By the lake, the mourners moved to the edge of the water together, the line expanding to hold what had been lost and what had been returned. They didn't clap. They didn't sing. They just stood—proof, in their hundreds of quiet breaths, that grief and mercy can share a body. That endings make room.

And in the room just beyond the deck, the helmet waited, its blank face reflecting a man who had decided, finally and fully, to be more than the steel he had worn.

Morning came soft and gray over the lake, the kind of light that didn't insist on anything. The house smelled like coffee and antiseptic and damp wood. Someone had left the back doors cracked to let the air through, and it moved quietly, turning the white curtains into slow-breathing things.

Steve was already in the yard with Bruce and Sam and Rhodey, the Quantum platform rebuilt on a patch of level ground that had been a croquet lawn once upon a domestic fantasy. He wore a battered field jacket over his suit, the shield strapped to his back, a canvas kit bag at his feet. Mjolnir—returned to Thor after the fight—was gone; the hammer had been a miracle on loan, and today was about putting miracles back where they belonged.

Inside, the living room was its own small hospital. Tony sat propped on the sectional, right arm mummied in sterile dressings, sling cradling what was left, gauze shadowing his jaw and collarbone. He looked like hell and alive anyway, which was the only combination anyone cared about. Morgan lay half on, half against him, drawing crooked hearts on his good palm with a purple pen.

Pepper had made the room orderly in all the ways she could—pill bottles in a line, water glass refreshed every time it dared to sweat, a blanket folded then unfolded then folded again across the back of the couch. Happy hovered like a friendly moon, orbiting anything that needed lifting.

Serena came in carrying a small, pink box. She hesitated at the edge of the rug, then knelt so she was eye level with Morgan. "I brought you something," she said, conspiratorial, like gifts could still be a secret in a house full of superheroes.

Morgan blinked up and sat up straighter, earnest and bright. Serena flipped the lid back and the plastic window flashed: a Malibu Barbie, sun-streaked and ridiculous in a fuchsia swimsuit and white sunglasses big enough to qualify as shelter.

Across the couch, Tony's eyebrows climbed, disbelief riding the morphine flat. "You brought my kid a Barbie?"

Serena's mouth tilted. "You've been calling me that for years."

Morgan looked from the doll to Serena, awe unspooling across her face. "Thanks, Aunt Barbie!"

Tony shook his head, a crooked, admonishing smile tugging anyway. "No, peanut. It's 'Thanks, Aunt Serena.'"

He said her name with the weight he used to save for arc reactors and midnights in the shop—full respect, no deflection. Pepper's eyes flicked to him, quick and warm. Serena felt the word land and tried not to show how much she felt it.

Morgan clutched the box to her chest. "Thanks, Aunt Serena."

"You're welcome," Serena said, and smoothed a stray curl out of the girl's eyes with a thumb she didn't realize was shaking until it stilled.

From the open doors came the metallic clack of Bruce locking something into place. Steve's voice floated in with it, steady as a metronome. Serena stood, pressed a palm to Pepper's shoulder—a small squeeze, permission to breathe—and slipped outside.

Maria was already there at the edge of the deck, hands in the pockets of her black coat, eyes on the men circling the platform. She glanced over when Serena joined her and did not bother with the question Are you okay. The answer had too many moving parts.

"Banner says five seconds," Maria murmured. "Five seconds for us. For him, who knows."

Serena watched Steve check the dial on his cuff, the back-of-hand gesture she could've mapped in her sleep. Sam said something that made him smile. Bucky stood a few strides away, hands in his pockets, shoulders sloped in a posture that pretended casual and didn't quite make it. The people who knew him best were quietly preparing for goodbye without saying the word.

"I don't think he's coming back," Serena said.

Maria's head turned. "What?"

Serena kept her gaze on the yard. "He saw her," she said, and the pronoun carried a roomful of history. "In '70. Peggy. Through the glass. He didn't breathe for a minute. I could feel it from halfway down the hall."

Maria was silent long enough for the wind to pick up and settle. "Ser—"

"I'm not angry." It came out cleaner than she felt. "Part of him has been walking with her since before he left the ice. He will always be that boy with a mission and a date he never made. I know that. And I know what she was. I... I will never amount to that." She surprised herself with the nakedness of it and found she didn't have the energy to take it back. "To her."

Maria huffed, not amusement, not disbelief—something practical that knocked dust off a truth. "Peggy Carter is an icon," she said, like she was reading a line into the record with full honors. "She was also a human being who made choices and mistakes and enemies and a life in a world that did not deserve her. This is not a contest you can win or lose."

Serena's mouth made a stubborn line. The feeling in her ribs—the wrong pebble she'd been carrying for days—shifted and sat heavy.

Maria tipped her chin toward the yard. "And while we're talking facts: you became the youngest Assistant Deputy Director in SHIELD history when people twice your age still needed handlers. You did the same trick again as General Counsel and Director at Langley, and the whole town pretended it wasn't surprised because none of us wanted to admit a twenty-something could be better at the job than we were. You built an arsenal out of venom and nerve, you've held a dozen lines no one will ever read about, and—just in case you've managed to misplace this—two days ago you brought Tony Stark back to life."

Serena kept her eyes on Steve and felt the words hit like scaffolding raised around something unsteady. "That was a cheat," she said softly. "A beautiful one. A dangerous one."

"It was a choice," Maria countered. "That's the business we're in. And—because you'll never say it out loud in any room where it might count—your choice saved a child from learning your childhood." She paused, then added, quieter: "It saved mine, too. May doesn't bury another man who went to work and didn't come home."

Serena exhaled. The air didn't feel any warmer; it just felt shared.

Down in the grass, Steve slung the kit bag over his shoulder. Bruce adjusted the panel one last time, lips moving as he counted. Sam clasped Steve's forearm; Bucky pulled him in, two beats longer than the hug a man would give a friend he expected at dinner.

"Three... two..." Bruce said.

"—one," Steve finished for him, and stepped onto the pad.

Serena's throat closed without permission. She swallowed hard and found Maria's hand at the small of her back, steady as a guardrail.

"If he stays, he won't be choosing her over you," Maria said, voice even. "He'll be choosing the piece of himself that only ever existed with her. The miracle is that there's a different piece that only ever existed with you. You made a life here—messy, loud, impossible—where the kid from Brooklyn could finally unclench his jaw."

Serena let her eyes blur and sharpen again. The nausea didn't surge the way it had been; it hummed low, a wire under the skin. "If he doesn't come back..." She stopped, because the end of that sentence didn't have air in it yet.

"Then we do what we've always done," Maria said, and slid an arm around Serena's shoulders, pulling her in like family. "We carry what's ours. We toast what's his. And we give you a minute to decide how angry you want to be before we tell you he's a fool if he thinks this house doesn't have space for more than one great love story."

The platform thumped, a clean little sound, and the world held its breath. Serena leaned into Maria's side because it was allowed, because it was morning, because love made room where there shouldn't be any.

Across the lawn, the light lifted off the water and set Steve in sharp relief. For a second he looked like the statue they'd never build: a man and a shield and a choice.

Bruce threw the switch.

The pad bloomed white, then blank.

Silence took the yard. Sam stared at the empty plate like he could will it to undo itself. Bucky didn't move. Bruce checked the dial because engineers always do, even when they know.

Five seconds can be very long.

Maria's arm tightened a fraction. Serena stood very still and listened for a sound she couldn't name yet—either the thud of returning boots or the minute, merciless shift of a world that had just lost a man in a different direction.

"I've got you," Maria said, low enough to be just for her.

Serena nodded once, eyes on the space where he'd been, and tried to believe her.

Bruce's hand hovered over the control like a held breath. Five seconds stretched and stretched—then the pad flashed, a soft, clean pop of displaced air, and there he was.

Steve.

Whole. Wind-ruffled. Dusty from nowhere. Shield slung casual over one shoulder, kit bag in the other hand, eyes already looking for her.

Maria's head snapped toward Serena. Shock caught Serena so completely she didn't feel it until a single tear slid cool down her cheek. She swiped it away too late. Her gaze dropped, unbidden, to the emerald engagement ring he'd given her years ago—the stone deep as an ocean current, catching the milky morning light—and something unclenched in her chest and ached at the same time.

"Go," Maria said, not unkindly.

Serena nodded once. She didn't. Not yet.

Instead she stepped off the deck and walked until the boards ended, then lay flat on the warm wood, shoulders against the grain, hair fanning, eyes on a sky that had decided to be blue again. Meredith padded up and flopped down against her ribs with a theatrical sigh. Molly—slimmer, sly-eyed, the older of the two—circled once like a furry moon and tucked herself against Serena's hip. Serena put a hand on each warm, living dog and closed her eyes.

"Good girls," Serena murmured. She let the ambient sounds wash through—lakeshore lap, a gull somewhere rude and distant, muffled voices on the lawn—until thought thinned into a gentle static. It could've been a minute. It could've been an hour.Maybe a minute passed. Maybe ten. Time went soft.

Boots scuffed the boards, then stopped close enough that a shadow fell across her face.

"You didn't really think you were getting rid of me that easy, did you?"

Smug, and softer than she expected.

Her eyes snapped open. She pushed up onto her elbows, narrowed them at him, and then stood because sitting felt like being cornered. The dogs thumped in greeting; Steve scratched their ears by instinct, eyes never leaving Serena's face.

He stopped a vague arm's length away, reading her the way he read crowds before they turned. The corner of his mouth curbed down. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"I didn't think you were coming back," she said. It came out flat, the way fear goes when it drains and leaves a stain behind. "I stood up there and I could feel it—this... pull. Like a rope tied around your ribs. Like you were already gone. I know what she meant to you. I know what that life would have been."

He looked past her at the lake for a beat and nodded, as if he'd promised himself he wouldn't lie to her and didn't intend to start now. "I thought about it," he said. "I won't pretend I didn't. For a second—more than a second—I could see it. I could see the door I never got to walk through. The music, the porch light, the quiet. I thought about staying."

The words hit clean. She folded her arms to keep her hands from shaking and let him keep going.

"But then I remembered the first months after I woke up," he said, voice low. "How I felt like a museum exhibit looking for the exit. How everywhere I stood, it felt like I was in someone else's photograph. I was 'the man out of time' until the day I met you." He took a step closer, slow, giving her every chance to refuse him. "You're the first thing that ever made me feel like the present tense was a place I could live. I love you, Serena. I love this ridiculous, beautiful, hard life we built. I want to spend the rest of whatever I've got with you. I promised you a wedding. I still want to marry you."

Something in her chest gave way. Not a break—more like pressure releasing. She reached and he met her halfway, the hug one of those embarrassing ones that puts your whole face in the other person's neck and makes conversation impossible for a minute.

When she finally let him see her face again, she swiped at a tear with the heel of her hand and tried on a smile. "We might need to push the wedding back a little," she said.

He frowned, quick with the wrong worry. "Because you don't like the dresses? Ralph can—"

"It's not the dresses." She rolled her eyes, a comfort. Then something else sparked—an idea, and the desire to feel a different balance under her feet. "Actually... we could move it up."

He blinked. "Move it up? Why are we moving it up?"

She lifted one shoulder, as if confessing to a crime she wanted him to be proud of. "Because I really don't want to look like a whale in my wedding dress a couple of months from now."

It took him a couple of seconds. You could almost watch the math arrange itself behind his eyes and then light up.

"When did you—?"

"The morning of the heist," she said, and her mouth curved in spite of her. "Nat was there."

His eyebrows went up. "Nat knew?"

Serena's gaze slid past him to the water and back, softer now. "She knew me as well as Maria does." She drew in a breath, and the memory lifted and unfolded like a page she'd dog-eared for later.

Flashback - 3 Days Ago

Avengers Compound - Upstate New York

She'd been in the upstairs bath at the Compound, bare feet cold on tile, morning light too bright. The sticks lay like evidence on the counter—one, then two, then three because superstition demanded it. Meredith whined at the door, locked outside and scandalized.

There was a knock that didn't wait. The handle turned. Natasha slid in sideways, red hair braided, coffee in one hand and a bracing expression on her face that broke the instant she clocked Serena's eyes.

Nat looked from Serena to the counter. Then back again.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, incredulous, equal parts fond and horrified. "You have to do this now? Ser, you had five years. Five years! And this is when it happens?"

Serena stared at her, unblinking, and arched an eyebrow. "Sorry, my uterus didn't get your scheduling memo."

Natasha made a sound like a laugh had tripped over a curse and lost. Then her face did this thing Serena would never forget, like she'd let a door swing open inside herself. She set the coffee down. She stepped in. She put both hands on Serena's shoulders and shook her once, gentle. "You're gonna be a mom, Ser," she said, smiling like it hurt and she loved it. "It's what you always wanted."

"Finally," Serena whispered, and all the stupid, impossible hope she'd been holding by the teeth slid up and lodged under her ribs, sharp and bright.

Nat pulled her in, forehead to forehead, and for a minute the bathroom was a place where the war hadn't found them yet.

Present Day

Stark Residence - Upstate New York

Serena came back to the dock and found Steve's hand still warm in hers, the day newly made around them. He had that look in his eyes—the one that always undid her a little—like she was the first true thing he'd seen all morning.

"So," he said, voice rough, tentative with awe. "We're...?"

"We're," she said, and laughed because talking had stopped being useful. "We are."

He kissed her once, slow and careful like his whole body knew something it hadn't yesterday. When they finally broke for air, he leaned his forehead against hers and spoke without moving away. "Okay. We'll move it up. We'll do whatever you want. Cathedral or courthouse. City hall or your mother's porch. You choose and I'll be there in a suit trying not to cry."

"You'll fail," she said, watery and smug, and he huffed a laugh because, yes, he would.

Molly groaned theatrically at their feet and flopped onto her back, a shameless demand for belly rubs that broke the moment in just the right way. Meredith thumped her tail against Serena's calf like a drumroll for the future.

Up on the deck, Maria watched them from the rail, the smallest smile tucked away where only the careful would notice. When Serena glanced up, she raised her coffee in a salute that said, Told you.

Serena squeezed Steve's fingers. Her mouth tilted. "You're still marrying me even if I waddle."

He looked at her like she'd missed the point entirely. "Serena. I'm marrying you because you're you."

She swallowed, touched the emerald ring again, and for the first time in days the wrong, humming unease went quiet, like a radio finally tuned to the right station.

The lake breathed. The house behind them did, too. Somewhere inside, a little girl shouted because her new doll had "real sunglasses." Somewhere further, Pepper laughed, the sound cutting clean through wood and morning. And on the grass, the Quantum pad sat innocuous as a garden stone, an instrument put away after the last song.

Serena leaned into the man who had come back because today—finally—this time was home.

Notes:

So not only did Steve come back, but Serena is pregnant!

Also, good news. I will be continuing this story, after Endgame is officially finished. I had an idea with where Serena's 'Ariadne' could go, along with how Steve and Serena's lives could be like post Endgame, especially during the events of both The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, and Captain America: Brave New World, along with that of Tony's as well (as the public has no idea that he is alive...just the government and the Avengers...which is how Tony wants it to be...but that will be explained later).

As always, let me know if you have any predictions about what's to come!

Chapter 64: Chapter 64

One Week Later

The world wore black for a man who was making pancakes in a kitchen no camera could find.

Memorial candles guttered in battery-operated circles at the foot of the Stark Industries tower. Kids in plastic helmets left marker-scrawled notes (“thank you for saving my mom,” “love you 3000”) in heaps that looked like snowdrifts made of paper. Anchors at sleek desks swallowed hard and did their best elegies. A fireworks barge off Battery Park spat gold and red into a sky still learning how to be ordinary.

Inside the fences—the ones you couldn’t see—Happy kept the lane closed and the curious far. Pepper answered only the calls that mattered. Morgan, legs kicking off a barstool, made Tony draw cats with his left hand because “the other one’s on timeout.” He smiled into quiet and didn’t go online.

Only the right people knew he was breathing. Everyone else mourned Iron Man and Tony Stark and left meals on a gate that never opened.

Upstate, Serena and Steve were house hunting.

Felicita’s house in Alexandria had been returned to its owner with a hug and a dry remark about linen upkeep. They’d stayed long enough to fix what battle had ignored, then packed the last of their things into four labeled boxes because Serena could not bear unlabeled ones. “We’re not children,” Felicita had said, of the house and of love. “We don’t hoard what we no longer need.” She’d kissed both their cheeks and sent them north.

They saw capes of glass and modern cubes that would look tired in a decade. Steve nodded politely and passed. Then the agent took them down a gravel drive lined with fieldstone walls older than anyone’s grandparents, and something in Steve’s shoulders dropped half an inch and stayed there. 

A late-1700s colonial sat back from the road like it had nothing to prove—white clapboard, black shutters, a center chimney, the kind of symmetry that made the eye sigh. A brick path cut from the gravel to a red door with a pineapple knocker. Old trees threw a mottled shade across a deep porch. The place smelled like linen and lemon oil and the ghosts of a thousand good dinners.

Inside, wide-plank floors creaked in a way that felt like permission. There was a parlor with a proper mantel. A dining room with three windows that would love Sunday light. The kitchen had been gut-renovated in a way that kept the ceiling beams and added mercy: marble, gas, a farmhouse sink. Upstairs, a master with a fireplace you could read by and a small room off it that would be nothing and everything, depending on who slept there in six months.

Steve stood in the doorway and ran a hand along the banister. The wood was nicked and glossy from other hands, other lives. “You gave your mother her house back,” he said softly.

“We did,” Serena said, because Felicita had taken the keys with a look that had been ninety percent relief and ten percent You shouldn’t have had to ask. Serena glanced across the landing into the little room, a bay of light, and felt a soundless hum in her ribs settle a notch. “This feels like… us.”

He smiled, that quiet, surprised one that undid her. “I finally understand the term ‘old money.’ It buys you creaks that sound like someone’s still cooking downstairs.”

She snorted. “And shutters that slam when a storm rolls in.”

Downstairs, the agent’s feet clicked politely. “You two look good in that hallway,” she called. “We can put the offer in before lunch.”

Serena found Steve’s hand. “Let’s buy a house,” she said. 

They didn’t bother with champagne. They sat cross-legged on the oak in the empty living room, passed a paper cup of terrible coffee back and forth, and made one more decision because waiting felt like a kind of lie.

“Lake Como,” Serena said. “Duomo for the ceremony, my mother's on the lake for the reception. Two months.” She touched the emerald at her hand, mouth twisting. “I am not waddling down a cathedral aisle.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, because he loved her and also because he was a bit of a liar. “Two months.”

He kissed her in the echoing room and promised her every kind of porch light.

The next morning, they kept an appointment neither of them had let themselves put on a calendar until now.

The clinic smelled like citrus and good intentions. The doctor had kind eyes and hands that moved briskly, like good weather. Serena lay back under a paper sheet while Steve held her fingers so gently it was almost funny.

“Gel’s cold,” the doctor warned.

Serena hissed and bit a laugh. The wand pressed. The screen flickered from static to a grainy moonscape, like weather from a different planet.

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Let’s go find your little stowaway.”

They both stared like amateurs. Then there it was: a black almond with a brighter little speck inside, flickering at a rate that made Serena’s own heart feel clumsy.

“About six weeks,” the doctor said, tapping measurements into the machine. “Crown-rump’s right where I want it. See that flicker? That’s the heartbeat.”

Steve made a helpless sound she’d never heard from him. He pressed his forehead to her temple and said nothing, which was exactly right.

They walked out into a day so ordinary it felt like a benediction and started calling people who made ordinary impossible.

FaceTime went first to Felicita, because of course it did. She answered from her kitchen in a silk blouse and a bun that could have cut glass, and she had a “What is it now?” in her eyes that evaporated when Serena held up the picture.

“Bonjour, Maman,” Serena said. “Meet your grandchild.”

Felicita’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again—an event rarer than a solar eclipse. Her hand went to her throat and then she recovered her posture with almost comic rigor. “Eh bien,” she murmured, eyes going bright. “Alright. On avance.” Then, practical: “We move the date. We call the florist. I am finding a dress that does not clash with a baby.”

Nick answered in a Monaco gym, shirt damp, grin already loaded. “Tell me you bought the murder house,” he said, and then Serena put the ultrasound up to the camera. The grin detonated into a whoop that made a trainer flinch three stations down. “You’re kidding me! You—Ser, you—” He turned the phone and bellowed in another direction. “Lew! We’re uncles!”

A voice off-camera: “We’re what?"

"Lewis, get your stupid ass over here!" Nick scolded, and in a matter of moments, Lewis came into view also damp with sweat, and in a matter of moments his eyes widened in disbelief.

"I'm getting a new teammate!" Lewis exclaimed. "It's getting a tiny fireproof suit, I'll order one right now."

“Do not send options,” Steve said, and Lewis laughed like a man who absolutely would.

“I’m six weeks,” Serena said. “Before either you lecture me about anything, shut up.”

“I wasn’t going to lecture,” Nick protested, already tearing up in a way he would later blame on 'crappy HVAC.' “I was going to say… I’m proud of you. And also I have so many books for this small alien.”

“Not an alien,” Steve said, failing to stop himself.

“Fine,” Nick said. “Half alien.”

"Half alien." Lewis nodded in agreement.

They called Maria. She didn’t cry. She never did in front of them. Her eyes just did that thing where they watered without blinking. “Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m updating the will: if either of you makes me godmother, I promise to be a good influence. Which is to say, not at all.”

“You’re already on the list,” Serena said.

“Good,” Maria said. “I’m telling May before you do.”

After they hung up, Steve frowned in confusion as he turned to Serena. 

"May?" He asked. "Peter's Aunt?"

Serena shook her head. "No...this May is an...old friend of mine."

And Steve left it at that, as he knew he wouldn't get more out of her.

They called Tony last. Pepper answered for him, Morgan squished up against her cheek, both of them framed by a kitchen Serena was already half in love with. Pepper’s face changed somewhere between recognition and delight. “Hi,” she said. “Is it…?”

Serena held up the picture. Morgan gasped, hand to her mouth like she’d learned that gesture from a cartoon and was trying it out on real life. “Is that a baby?”

“That’s your cousin,” Steve said, and the word Cousin made Serena’s stomach drop in the best possible way.

Tony leaned into the frame, pale but steady, his sling bright and indecent against a black T-shirt. He scanned the picture, then them, then the picture again. His mouth tilted into exactly the wrong joke at exactly the right time. “You know, if you’d told me this was the way you were going to one-up me…”

Pepper slapped his chest gently without taking her eyes off Serena. “Tony.”

He sobered and the engineer went quiet so the man could speak. “I’m happy for you,” he said, and even with the world shut out, a man who’d died a week ago sounded like someone who understood resurrection in more than one key. “I’m really, really happy for you.”

They hung up when Morgan demanded a turn to show them the fort she’d built under the table. The rest they did by text, because in some families, news traveled new-fashioned.

Texts went out to the ring: a photo of the photo, the smallest heartbeat in black and white.

Val: Finally. Wear flats in Como.

Everett: I’m crying in a parking lot. Don’t tell anyone.

Sam: Uncle Sam jokes incoming. Prepare yourselves.

Bucky: Good. Name it anything but Bucky. I'll buy it it's first knife.

Wanda: OMG Congrats!

Clint: I'm buying it a baby quiver for Christmas.

Bruce: Don't let it near the snakes...but congratulations.

Shuri: Please allow me to outfit your child with the finest in non-explosive, non-invasive Wakandan tech. I insist.

T'challa: Do not let Shuri outfit your child with invasive tech. I also insist.

One Week Later

Location: Pierce Estate - Alexandria, Virginia

Felicita’s estate had resumed its native shape: a well-run campaign that happened to be a house. In the sunroom, a linen-draped table had been colonized by the war of weddings: seating charts in pencil and in pen, place cards like confetti, a stack of acceptances and a neat, damning pile of regrets. There were highlighters, Post-its, a fountain pen that only Felicita was allowed to touch, and a black Moleskine that belonged to Nick and no one else.

Steve sat, sleeves rolled, reading glasses he didn’t actually need perched on his nose. Serena stood over the table with a pencil tucked behind her ear. Felicita presided, immaculate, a pencil and a look that could split atoms, along with Maria actively standing next to her, providing her expertise. Lewis sprawled in a cane-backed chair with a blanket around his shoulders and sunglasses he’d forgotten to take off, jet-lag making him charming and impossible in equal measure. Everett sat in an adjacent chair next to Lewis, flipping through the latest edition of The New York Times. Val on the other hand was behind the bar rearranging Felicita's alcohol stash.

It turned out plotting a seating chart for a bifurcated state dinner disguised as a wedding reception required a war room. Felicita cleared the long library table, set out crystal bowls of pastel confetti sugared almonds like ammunition, and uncapped a pen with the same precision she used on ministers.

Place cards marched in marshaled battalions. Government officials here (the ones you wanted speaking to each other but not conspiring); Avengers there (far enough from the bar to spare the bartenders but close enough for quick exits); family stitched through the middle like a seam that would not break.

“Do we… register for stuff?” Steve asked at one point, tentative, as if admitting he didn’t know this was a misdemeanor. “Sam says people do that.”

Nick snorted from a wingback, sprawled like a man who’d claimed the chair in a different century. “We’re Italian, Cap. La busta. Cash.”

Steve blinked. “People just…hand you cash?”

“Envelopes,” Nick said, satisfied. “On our wedding night, Alison and I got back to the hotel—don’t make that face—and before we even went to sleep she opened cards, read names, counted amounts, and I logged every single one in this.” He patted the black Moleskine like it was a sacred text. “We still reference it whenever we go to someone else’s wedding. You know what you were given; you give accordingly. It’s not cold—it’s math wrapped in love.”

Alison’s voice floated in from the hall. “We were very romantic. I wore slippers. He made a spreadsheet.”

Lewis pointed at the book. “Please tell me you color-coded.”

Nick looked affronted. “Of course I color-coded.”

"You're kidding me right?" Steve asked in disbelief.

“It’s a ledger,” Nick said, with the injured dignity of a man maligned. “You record what people gave you so when it’s their kid’s turn, you reciprocate appropriately. È una cosa di rispetto. It’s respect.”

Alison didn’t look up. “He did put a little star by anyone who tried to pass off a check like it was cash.”

“Because it clears later,” Nick said, as if explaining physics to a child.

Lewis had strong feelings about the seating of three captains of industry and two movie stars. “Don’t put them together,” he said, stabbing a finger at the cards like they were apex predators. “They’ll either mate or murder.”

“Basta, Lewis,” Felicita said without looking up. “Hai il jet-lag, sei cattivo.” Enough. You’re jet-lagged; you’re being mean.

He slumped, chastened, and grinned anyway. “Yes, ma’am.” She flicked his ear with an affection that said figlio without saying the word.

Val sauntered in with a balloon glass of Barolo she had definitely not asked for. “If you park Everett within a three-table radius of me,” she announced, “I’m poisoning the risotto.”

“You will do no such thing,” Felicita said in the tone that once sent junior ministers to therapy. “And that is a 2006 Giacomo Conterno. Put it down if you cannot appreciate it.”

Val took another sip. “I appreciate it,” she said gravely, and planted herself by the fireplace like a gargoyle in couture.

"Don't worry Val, I'll be at least six tables away, and it still won't be far enough." Everett sighed from his seat next to Lewis.

Serena and Steve anchored the long side of the table, forearms touching, pencils lifting and dropping. They translated names into relationships, relationships into distances. Who would actually dance. Who would only clap. Who needed to be near an exit. Who would bring a security detail no one wanted to see.

“Ambassador’s wife can’t sit next to that senator,” Maria observed from the doorway, flipping through a stapled packet of “requests” she'd printed, her eyebrows communicating a novella. “She told me in 2016 she would rather be set on fire.”

“Gianni from Como,” Felicita said, circling one name with a decisive flourish. “He drinks too much grappa, but he can keep the finance minister entertained with gossip for three courses.”

“Put Shuri with Pepper,” Serena said. “If they become friends the world will be better and also slightly afraid.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, and wrote.

They worked until the sun tilted and the room went the warm color that makes memories stick. Someone ordered pizza because even the most entrenched traditions on earth bow to a good pie in Alexandria on a Tuesday. Meredith and Molly snored under the table like ottomans that breathed.

When the last card slid into place and the last line on Felicita’s list was crossed, the room exhaled as one. Serena leaned back, stretched until her spine popped, and laid a hand low on her belly without thinking. It wasn’t much yet—just a secret her body had told her hand—but Steve’s eyes followed the motion like a man who would build an ark out of napkins if she asked.

He reached, threaded their fingers together over the map of names and compromises, and let his thumb rest, light as breath.

“Lake Como,” he said, as if saying it might make time play fair. “Two months.”

“Two months,” she echoed. “Then no more old houses that aren’t ours, no more borrowed rooms. Just…our table. Our dog hair. Our life.”

“Old money floors and new coffee,” he said, smiling into the picture.

Felicita capped her pen, set it down with ceremony, and kissed the top of Serena’s head. “Brava,” she said, pride hiding in the syllables. She smoothed Serena’s hair the way she used to when there were barre recitals and meeting binders, then set her gaze on Steve. “And you. You are family.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, because some ranks you don’t argue with.

One Month Later

Steve and Serena's Home - Upstate New York

The old colonial didn’t look old tonight. It looked lived-in. Strings of warm bulbs ran from the beech to the porch rail; the grass was a quilt of picnic blankets and folding chairs; someone had dragged the long farm table out under the maple and buried it in platters—Nonna-level antipasti from Felicita, Stark-level sliders from Happy, and three pans of mac and cheese that Cassie declared “legally important.”

Steve’s “retirement” party wasn’t precisely official—no podium, no seal—but the right people were here. T’Challa shook hands like grace in motion; Okoye cataloged everyone and everything without breaking a smile; Shuri bullied Scott into letting her take apart a Pym regulator “just to look.” Rhodey leaned on a cane he didn’t strictly need and pretended he just liked the stance. Maria and Fury did that thing where they found the one piece of shade and stood in it like a briefing could happen at any second. Clint and Laura’s kids played tag with Meredith and Molly until all five were filthy and happy. Valkyrie stole the good rosé and taught Carol a drinking game; Carol pretended she didn’t already know it.

Pepper sat with one arm curled around Tony while Morgan braided flowers into his sling. The burns had healed into maps; the right arm was still mummied beneath gauze and grafts. He looked thinner, quieter—and so incandescently grateful to be here that it made people look away and then back again.

Lewis showed up late like a comet, fresh off a Monza win and smelling faintly of jet fuel and champagne. He hugged Serena like a brother, Steve like a co-conspirator, and complimented the driveway like it was a chicane. “You got room for a garage I can get lost in?” he asked, eyes already measuring.

“Two bays and a workshop out back,” Steve said, smug in a way Serena found unreasonably attractive.

Everett intercepted Serena by the lemonade like a man who’d walked out of three meetings to be here. He tapped the breast pocket of his blazer where a keycard lived. “Your Ariadne is in a black safe under a colder one,” he murmured. “Langley, my custody. Paper trail’s four names long.”

Relief loosened something between her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Ross is…curious.” Everett’s mouth tipped wry. “Now that ‘President’ is on his business cards, curiosity travels faster. He wants to know how you pulled off the impossible.”

“Then he can send a fruit basket to the lab freezer,” Serena said lightly. “And not get the recipe.”

Everett’s eyes warmed. “Attagirl.”

Across the yard, Steve clapped Sam on the back and steered him toward the stand of beeches. Bucky clocked the movement, took two steps after them, then stopped, giving them a little perimeter and an old friend’s privacy.

Under the green shade, Steve unstrapped the shield. Up close it looked less like a symbol and more like an object that had been everywhere with him. Sam’s eyes went serious in that way that made the world around him sharpen.

“You sure?” Sam asked, low.

Steve nodded. “I carried it as far as I was meant to.” He turned the rim, fingers knowing every scar. “It’s not about being me. It’s about being what people need.” He offered it out. “That’s you.”

Sam swallowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He took it like you take a promise you’re ready to keep. “Then I’ll carry it, but it will always feel like someone elses” he said. They didn’t hug; they didn’t need to. Bucky, twenty paces away, smiled into the wind and looked down so no one would accuse him of it.

Serena barely had time to be proud before Wanda appeared like weather.

Her eyes were too bright. Her voice came in on a breath that had learned how to break itself and keep talking anyway. “I need to speak with you.”

They stepped inside, into the quiet of the study where old wood held sound like a secret. Wanda didn’t waste words. “You brought Tony back.”

Serena’s throat went dry. “I did.”

“Please,” Wanda said. No preamble. “Please use it on him.”

Serena knew what it was before Wanda said “Vision.”

Her answer started forming—that careful, gentle no—when Wanda’s eyes glassed with a fury that looked like sunlight on black ice. “You brought him back,” she said, voice low, the accusation and the gratitude and the impossible all braided together. “You broke your own rule for him. Why won’t you—”

“Because it isn’t the same,” Serena cut in, quiet and clean. She shut the study door. The house muffled to a hush. “What I built—what Bruce and I patched together—that interlock is designed for human tissue. It only works if the lattice is still there—if the cells haven’t ruptured, if the brain hasn’t gone dark beyond salvage. Tony was… right on the line. Vision wasn’t. He’s not… he wasn’t human, Wanda. He was more than, different than. There’s no blood chemistry to key into, no mitochondrial shuttle to hitch a ride on. If I tried, I wouldn’t just fail. I could ruin whatever chance anyone might have, ever.”

Wanda swallowed and took half a step closer, palms out, plea sharpening to demand. “Then get his body. You’re the Director. You can pull files, pull rank, pull him out. S.W.O.R.D. has him. You know they do.”

Serena’s mouth pressed flat. “And you know what ‘Director’ means. It means I have rules I break on purpose and rules I don’t because the cost is bigger than I am. To retrieve him, I’d have to cross a dozen red lines in broad daylight: seize property from a sister agency on U.S. soil, override a custodial order signed by a President who already doesn’t like me, manufacture a legal theory so thin it snaps under air. And that’s before we talk about the part where stealing an android’s body sets off every alarm from The Hague to La Repubblica.”

“Then pull them,” Wanda snapped. “Break them. You did it for him.” She didn’t say Tony. She didn’t have to.

Serena let the sting land. She made herself keep her voice level. “I did it with the patient on the table and his wife’s consent and every doctor we trust standing within reach. I did it knowing exactly which piece of physics I was insulting. Vision is at S.W.O.R.D., under a stack of protocols I can’t wish away. Even if I walked him out and laid him on my table, even if I burned my career down to do it—Ariadne doesn’t have anything to grab. He was a mind made of light. I don’t have a thread for that.”

“So you won’t,” Wanda said, eyes shining, betrayal blooming where she’d hoped to plant relief. “You won’t even try.”

“I am trying,” Serena said, sharper than she meant. She softened it immediately. “I am trying the way that doesn’t burn the house down. I promise you, I am watching. I have people watching. But I cannot promise you the thing you want me to promise.”

“How dare you.” Wanda’s breath hitched. “How dare you say no to me and invite me to toast you in Italy like any of this is normal.” She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, angry at tears that wouldn’t be ordered. “I won’t be there.”

“Wanda—”

“It was supposed to be me,” she said, the anger truly coming through. “It was supposed to be us...it was never supposed to be you...and you continue to take.”

Serena reached for her and let her hand fall. “I know.”

The door snapped and let the afternoon back in around them. Wanda walked through it without looking back, glows of red flaring at her hands. On the porch, the noise of the party seemed to shift a degree, as if one frequency had dropped out and the air noticed.

Serena stood very still in the foyer and counted ten. On six, Val appeared from the library with a very fine whiskey she had definitely liberated. She studied Serena’s face like a jeweler examines a flaw.

“You could have told her S.W.O.R.D. has his body on a slab with jumper cables. Why didn’t you.?"  Val asked conversationally.

“If I had,” Serena said, tired down to the tendon, “the house would already be in orbit, and there'd be a crater on my front lawn.”

Val considered that and nodded once. “Fair.” She handed over the glass. “Sip. I won’t tell your mother.”

Serena didn’t drink but looked at her aunt in disbelief. "You do know I'm pregnant right?"

"You do know I drank during my pregnancy with Rebecca and she turned out ok, right?" Val snarked back, making Serena roll her eyes.

She continued to hold the glass as it gave her hands a job. A distraction from the sorrow Wanda had caused her. Fury found her like a man with a compass for trouble and an umbrella for it, too.

“Kid,” he said. No eyepatch could hide the apology in his face. “I’m going to miss the wedding.”

The frown was out before she could school it. “Work?”

He tilted his head, which in Fury meant yes, and it has stars on it. “Off-world. Long stint. I’ll send something gaudy and heartfelt through a wormhole.”

“Send a postcard,” Serena said dryly. “Wish you were near-Earth orbit.”

One corner of his mouth hooked. “You’ll have Hill. And about three hundred relatives with opinions. You’ll live.”

She exhaled. “I always do.”

“Try keeping it that way.” He squeezed her shoulder and vanished like a coin trick.

She carried the empty glass back outside and let the noise settle around her like warm river water. Someone had put on Sam Cooke; someone else had started a game of cornhole that turned immediately into a tactical contest. Shuri and Cassie debated whether Meredith could be trained to bring napkins to the table. (She could. She wouldn’t.)

Steve found her, read the set of her shoulders in an instant, and slid a hand to the small of her back. She breathed into it and let the stubborn knot ease.

“Speech,” Clint called, because he couldn’t help himself. “C’mon, old man!”

Steve rolled his eyes and stepped up onto the low stone of the garden wall like a boy mounting a soapbox in Brooklyn. He looked out at the ridiculous, beautiful assembly of people who had saved the world and ruined her floors.

“I’m not much for speeches,” he started.

“Liar,” Tony rasped cheerfully.

“But I am good at thank-yous,” Steve continued. “So thank you for being here. For bringing food, and dogs, and yourselves. For bringing me home. I’m… retiring.” He glanced at Sam; Sam held the shield’s strap a little tighter. “From that part of my life.” He took Serena’s hand, tugged her up beside him, and the cheer that went up felt like a benediction. “Now I’m going to try being very good at this part.”

T’Challa raised a glass; Okoye actually smiled; Pepper wiped at her eye and pretended it was the sun. Tony didn’t stand. He didn’t need to. He tapped his glass against thin air and said, quiet enough that the table heard it but strong enough that it carried, “To the present tense.”

They ate. They told the kind of stories that grow kinder in the telling. Bucky taught Morgan how to flick bottlecaps with alarming accuracy. Rhodey and Lewis argued about lap times and prosthetic torque like they were tinkering in a garage. Valkyrie bet Carol she could deadlift the cooler; Carol said “prove it,” and then they did it together. Pepper put a sweater over Serena’s shoulders when the evening turned, the gesture unconsciously maternal and exactly right.

When the lights drew moths and the kids drifted inside for a movie, Serena found a corner of the porch with Steve where the sound of crickets threaded the laughter.

“She said she won’t come,” Serena said softly, still looking at the yard.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, meaning it without rushing her to feel different. “You did what you could.”

“I did what wouldn’t burn everything down,” she said. “Feels different from ‘could.’”

He tipped his shoulder into hers. “Sometimes ‘didn’t burn it down’ is the bravest thing in the room.”

She huffed something like a laugh. “Did Sam take it?”

“The shield?” Steve looked out at his friend, framed in lamplight, kids hanging off him like medals he didn’t need. “Yeah. He did.”

“Good,” Serena said. “He’ll be the kind of Cap I want our kid to point at.”

Steve slid his hand to her belly and left it there, warm and steady. “One month to Como,” he said, a smile in it.

“One month,” she echoed, before glancing at the whiskey Val had bullied into her hand, as she began to cause an internal debate within herself if creating Ariadne was the right move at all.

Meanwhile

Location: Hightown - Madripoor

Madripoor’s Hightown glowed like a bruise—violet neon seeping through the shutter slats, catching on champagne flutes and canvases that had never seen a customs form. Beneath the floorboards, a lab purred quietly, the sound threaded through steel and secret wiring.

Sharon’s satphone chimed. Only one number used that tone.

She answered on the first ring. “Mr. President.”

“Agent Thirteen,” Ross said, voice all gravel and confidence. “I’ll be blunt. I want two programs stood up. Super Soldier—controlled output, no green temper. And something called Ariadne.”

Her gaze slid to the hidden hatch. “Greek myths don’t come with SOPs.”

“It’s a biochemical package,” he said. “Two-stage: antivenom interlock, photonic priming, mitochondrial shuttle—plus a gamma-timed micro-stutter. It was just used to pull a man back from the brink. It worked.”

A man. He didn’t say who. On an unsecured line, he wouldn’t.

“And the inventor?” Sharon asked, though a small, mean part of her already knew the answer.

“Serena Pierce.”

Of course it was. A smile flickered—polite on the surface, sharp beneath. Serena with her ring and her Captain. Serena with the knives and the impeccable suits and the way Steve Rogers looked like a solved puzzle when she walked into a room. Serena with her miracles. Serena with her perfect French. Serena, the immediate choice Fury made when choosing candidates for Assistant Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Serena with her perfect life...she got everything she ever wanted.

"She always did act like she was the smartest person in the room." Sharon replied with heavy snark. 

“I’m not asking you to steal hers,” Ross went on. “I’m telling you to build ours. Offshore, deniable. You’ve got Madripoor, vendors who don’t faint, and—if we’re honest—motivation.”

“What do I get?” She kept it dry.

“Blanket pardon. Reinstatement if you want it, something cleaner if you don’t. Black budget access within reason. Your art stops living on docks. And a direct pipeline when this never existed.”

She weighed it and was already arranging the pieces. “Super Soldier first. I have a lead—Nagel. He can make it clean. For Ariadne I’ll need inland taipan, krait, Russell’s viper, and a photonics rig that never meets customs.”

“You’ll have a courier in twelve hours. Use the Talos Energetics shell.” A beat. “And, Carter—do not test on human subjects.”

“Perish the thought,” she said, and ended the call.

The panel slid back beneath her rug. Cold LEDs bloomed as the lab woke—fabricators unfolding, hoods humming. She took a legal pad and wrote in spare, surgical print:

SSS: Nagel → purity/volatility
Ariadne: antidote interlock; photonic priming (non-ionizing); mito shuttle; gamma micro-stutter analog
Venoms: O. microlepidotus, B. caeruleus, D. russelii
Deliverables: 60 days. In vitro first. Human never

She paused, then pressed a title across the top: Ariadne.

A memory cut quick and bright—Vienna rooftops, a balcony kiss that never happened, the green flash of an engagement stone on someone else’s hand. She pushed it away, pocketed the sting, and converted it to fuel.

“Parity,” Sharon said to the empty room.

She thumbed off three texts on a hardened line: Activate Nagel. Move photonics. Venoms inbound. The transfer orders bore a familiar, deniable signature: Power Broker.

Below, a robotic arm extended. A row of empty vials waited, patient as teeth. The city’s neon pulsed once through the slats, and the lab answered with a low, eager purr.

 

Notes:

So this chapter essentially sets up Wandavision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, along with Spiderman: Far From Home, while also simultaneously setting up Steve and Serena's wedding, along with Ariadne, and the consequences that can occur with such a miracle in a vial.

As always, drop your predictions!