Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I like standing still, but, that's just a wishful plan

Ask me where I come from, I'll say a different land

But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I count gates and numbers, then play the guessing game

It's just the place that changes, the rest is still the same

But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

And a thousand times I've seen this road

A thousand times

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oots

I've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oots

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oots

I've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oots

“No Roots” by Alice Merton

“C’mon, Lucy, need a hand up here!” 

“Ope, on my way!” I hopped off the pair of milk crates I perched on outside, stretching my leg out before pushing back in from the side door into the kitchen.

Friday night. The whole bar smelled like brandy, beer and fried fish. I loved it. After years of cooking for some of the most powerful and influential people in the world, it was good coming back to something uncomplicated in its challenge. Nothing fancy, just a lot of it and fast. Nobody was coming to be impressed, just a lot of people wanting to be fed and have a good night out. 

“You good on the fryer for a bit?”

“Lou, how dare you doubt me!” I laughed, “I got you, baby. Put on some tunes for me and the girls won’t know what hit ‘em. Gonna have those fish frys out faster than the drunks can order ‘em.” He gave me an elbow bump and we got to work, him on the griddle, me on the fryer, cranking out batch after batch of fish and french fries and chips and chicken strips and fried pickles and cheese curds. 

I’d been at this near-dive bar in Milwaukee for about a month now, feeling out the vibe of the area, and the lead cook Lou and I had hit it off right away. So well, the waitstaff had shipnamed us LuLou, and were taking bets with the bar staff on how long it would be before we were a thing. Which we both found hilarious. I liked his wife, Marci quite a bit, and my heart belonged firmly elsewhere, even though it had been months since I’d had any word.

The kitchen closed at ten, Lou and I took an hour or so cleaning up, and dipped out to the bar for a nightcap.

“Good night, guys. Busy as hell Friday, and not a complaint one,” the lead bartender said, pouring us each a shot and moving to pull us each a shift beer from the tap.

“Of course there wasn’t, Joe.” Lou boasted matter-of-factly, “Lucy’s the fastest fry cook I’ve ever seen.” He raised his shot to me.

I shrugged. “Not bad for an old, fat lady anyway.” I raised mine. “Whole lot easier with a good team.” We took the shots and took our time with our beers.

“So, are you gonna be hitting the road again, Lucy, or you gonna settle down with Lou, here.” One of the older waitresses leaned on the end of the bar beside Lou with a salacious grin.

“Betty, I would never do Marci dirty like that.” I sipped my beer.

“And that’s what I appreciate about you, Lucy.” A very pregnant woman, also in a waitress apron draped herself around Lou’s shoulders, and he turned his head to kiss her cheek. 

I grinned at the two lovebirds before turning back to Betty. “I’ll probably stay a few more weeks. Maybe as long as Halloween.”

We sat around and shot the shit for a while after close, and then said our goodnights. I made my way up the street carrying two takeout boxes to my van and whistled when I was on the same block. By the time I arrived beside the blue and silver 80s model conversion van I’d lovingly nicknamed Gladys, there was a huge black cat sitting politely beside it waiting for me. 

The Cat Distribution System blessed me in middle-of-nowhere Michigan when I found this particular feline had waited out a vicious thunderstorm in my front wheel well, probably enjoying the residual warmth from the engine block. I had just finished preparing to leave the scenic highway stop where I had hunkered down for the night, ready to head for the nearest town. I always checked under the hood and around the wheels for what was usually a raccoon or possum or squirrel taking shelter for some warmth. I was startled by a pair of brilliant green eyes staring at me from the inky shadows atop my tire. I coaxed it out, surprised again by the sheer size of the feral cat that flowed down from its hidey hole bringing most of that inky blackness with it, impressed it even fit in the space once I saw it. Probably close to 30 pounds, tall and lanky with thick fur, disheveled and half-matted. I figured it must be part Norwegian Forest Cat or Maine Coon, or as I often joked with people seeing it for the first time, maybe part bobcat because of the long ear tufts and sheer size. 

I lured it away with some chicken I’d had left over from the previous night’s dinner and returned to my van to leave. As soon as I opened the driver’s door, it dashed past me and inside, carrying the chicken it was still eating, and deposited itself in the passenger seat like it belonged there. I warned it playfully as it finished eating and I turned the engine over that I was leaving Michigan, and if it stayed with me longer than two weeks it was getting a collar and a bell so it couldn’t murder songbirds. It just trilled at me, yawned, and settled in a giant loaf on the seat, tucking its paws under and its long bushy tail around itself. 

That was three months and three states ago, and post a vet visit for a flea treatment, half a shave, and a round of vaccinations, she was sleek muscled and her thick coat was glossy. She also sported a wide, emerald green collar with high-vis trim and a gold-colored bell that I hand-embroidered in black with the name “Lokitty” and, for some reason I never thought about too much, some Asgardian runes for travel, safety and companionship that seemed fitting. And, that, my friends, is how you get a cat, and I got a travel partner.

“Did you have a pleasant evening, highness?” I asked as I walked up, fishing my keys out of my pocket.

The cat gave me a slow blink, and then yawned and stretched languorously as I unlocked the side door, rubbing a circle around my legs then hopping inside as soon as I had opened the door enough for her to slip through. I climbed in, set the larger takeout box in my hand on the floor, opening it for her so she could eat the two pieces of walleye I’d griddled for her. “Acceptable, Lo?” She looked up long enough to trill and lick her chops at me before returning to the more important task at hand.

She refused to eat cat food, generally foraging for herself or waiting for something of mine, preferring strongly when I made something particularly for her like I did tonight, and it barely mattered what it was. The first time I tried to give her canned cat food she gave me such a look of indignation as she batted the dish across the floor that I laughed. Then, I scruffed her, chucked her out the door yowling into a rainstorm, and cleaned up the mess. Next morning, when I opened the door again to a dejected, muddy-pawed cat I then had to subject to the indignity of bathing, we had a mutual understanding. I didn’t waste money offering her peasant rations, and she didn’t make a mess in the van for me to clean up.

I drove us back out to the campground, parked, and hit the shower house, ready as always to wash the fryer smell off after a Friday night shift. I didn't waste time, always wary in such places late at night. I generally won’t even get nude, wearing a swimsuit and water shoes until I got back to the relative safety of Gladys to change, my keys, knife and pepper spray always close at hand. I got back in the van, stripping off the robe I wore for the walk and the string bikini that I wore exclusively for public showers, not for swimming and being seen in. I hung everything to dry, then dipped into the cubbies I’d installed below the bed in the back to pull out some flannel pants, a blue t-shirt and an oversize gray hoodie, slipping them on and climbing into bed with the other takeout box.

It had become our routine that once I was in bed, Lo would come under the curtain separating the front captain’s chairs from the cabin, take a drink from her water dish by the cooler and hop onto the bed with me. Usually once I was settled with my book for the evening, she would lay beside me stretched the length of my left leg, fluffy tail over my bare feet, her head nestled against my hip, nudging my elbow or hand, sometimes giving my hand a little lick if I neglected her too long. I scratched her neck and rubbed her head, my fingers buried in the thick wooly undercoat of her mane, and she purred loudly, the baritone rumbling vibration of her against me always deeply comforting until I fell asleep. Maybe it was true what they say about the frequency of cat purrs being healing, or because it was like having a hot water bottle against my leg, but I never woke up sore after Lo slept beside me and my normally cold toes rarely needed socks in bed now.

Tonight, though, I sat with the little cardboard takeout box in front of me and a letter in my hands that I always kept in my bag. I didn’t need to open it anymore to remember what it said, I’d read it a thousand times since I’d left the Compound. I could practically hear the words in my head, my mind always feeding them to me in his voice, the way I imagined they sounded in his head when he put them to paper months ago.

…No matter how far or how long we’re apart.

I’m yours…

…You are engraved on my bones, imprinted on my soul. 

I don’t know how long it will be before I can come back to you, but I will. I don’t have another way to make you believe my promise, but I hope you can keep that trust in me…

…I wish I had a better way than the words on these pages to express my feelings. I wish I had a better way to leave my love in your hands where it’ll be safe and can keep you warm when you’re alone.

I love you . With every fiber of my being…

…“Some men need more than one woman in their lives, while other men feel a lifetime is not long enough to love the one.” - Konstantin Khabensky

Forever Your Goddamn Fool,

James

I tucked the lower half of my face into the neck of the shirts, forcing back the stinging in my eyes. They’d been washed too many times, but I closed my eyes trying to remember the smell they used to have. Leather, something slightly spicy and herbal that always reminded me of bay leaf, and gun oil. Summer days outdoors, like clean linens dried in the sun, and fresh sage. Lo jumped up beside me and bumped her head against my elbow. I looked down at her and gave her head a rub that she leaned into with a purr. I opened the small box, revealing a single cupcake. “Happy birthday to me.” I swiped a bit of the buttercream icing off with a finger for Lo while I ate the rest with the intent of not letting the day go unmarked, because my guys wouldn’t have wanted me to, and I hoped whatever magic or powers existed in the universe somehow saw that act of intent and conveyed to them how much I missed them.

Next morning, I woke up and got dressed, then let Lo out to handle necessities while I went to the bathrooms to handle my own necessaries. I came back to see Lo trotting up with a present. The cat yowled at me around her kill, and as she got closer I saw what she had. 

She’d taken to occasionally going out and bringing back dinner. The first time was back in Minnesota, it was a very nicely sized trout, still wriggling between her jaws. I’d thought about taking it back to the stream, but it was obviously not going to survive if I did. Lo looked so proud of herself as she dropped it at my feet, and I knew it was fresh, so I just decided “waste not, want not” and I cooked it for dinner. It got to be an annoying habit after I made squirrel and dumplings once because she brought me a pair, proudly trotting up with them by the tails and I couldn’t be bothered to go into town for dinner. It turned out to be her favorite meal, and she consistently brought me more of the unfortunate tree rodents over the following two weeks until I impressed on her that I wasn't doing it anymore.

“At least you’ve laid off the squirrels… Doreen would never forgive me if I accidentally made dumpling soup out of a friend of hers.” I knew the cat would follow me around with it until I took it from her, so I bent and took the rabbit that my furry hunter had beheaded and eviscerated, per her usual M.O. “I don’t know what you expect me to do with this, Princess.” 

She meowed at me, sitting politely with a twitch of her tail tip as she curled it around her feet and started to clean her face.  

“Dammit, Lo... It was the one time.” 

She flicked an ear and meowed again, licking her paw. 

“No, I don’t have any of the other ingredients. And I have the brunch shift today.”

She gave me airplane ears.

“Fine, that was a lie, but I’m not interested in making dumpling stew every time you bring me something furry you murdered. It isn’t good for you anyway.”

She gave me a plaintive meow, sitting up straighter.

“I don’t care how pretty you are, you’re still a cat, and you shouldn’t be eating carbs.”

She meowed at me meekly.

“Still a cat, Lo. You’re an obligate carnivore, you supposedly can’t even taste carbs!”

She yowled, lashing the end of her tail.

“If I do this, I don’t want to see another carcass for at least a month.”

She preened and came over, rubbing herself in a circle around my legs.

“Yeah, yeah… Get inside before the neighbors think I’m talking to myself.” I opened the door and the feline hopped inside the second she had enough clearance, as usual. 

I ended up working a double that day. Lokitty was waiting for me on the sidewalk when I came out the door of the supper club, adjusting my pack on my shoulders and sliding my cut of the cash tips in my pocket. I smiled tiredly. “Hey, Lo, sorry I’m late.”

She did her usual circle around my legs in greeting and then leaned against my tingling left leg nearly the whole 3 blocks to where I had parked the van. At the corner, she stopped, then suddenly bolted to the right, and I froze. She rarely spooked, the bobcat-sized feline knowing she was big enough to take on most anything that would step to her. My heart jumped in my chest, nerves sending goosebumps down my arms and legs as my hand went to my waistband and I made a sharp turn to follow my cat up the side street.  

I walked as quickly and quietly as I could up the sidewalk and down the alley I’d seen her disappear. She slipped around a dumpster and through a fence gap behind it. I slipped off my pack, chucked it over the fence and tried to think skinny thoughts as I followed her. The chainlink rattled as I brushed against it. I heard a short whistle and boots on pavement and reached down with my toe to kick the wheel block on the dumpster spinning it sideways and planting my shoulder against the back of it to shove it down the breadth of the alley to the sound of a shout as I bullied through the chainlink gap, grabbing my pack and running, adrenaline pushing me through the discomfort.

At the opposite end of the alley, the cat turned up the street, angling across and into another alley, leading me through a shadowy maze of alleys and fire escapes, clamboring over dumpsters and delivery trucks and fences. We looped around a circuit of several blocks, the sounds of our pursuers coming less frequent over the next 20 minutes or so and then we were looking at the van again from between buildings on the opposite side of the street as I ground the heel of my hand against my left thigh. 

I had done pretty well since I’d been on the lam, keeping up with my physical therapy exercises and I’d bought a theragun to help keep my scar tissue under control, but it didn’t explain how I’d just done all that and was still upright, let alone crouching in the shadows between two houses contemplating my next move. It hurt, don’t get me wrong. It hurt a lot. But, by all rights, I should be curled in the fetal position around a violently spasming left leg. I looked down at Lo, watching me with those bright green eyes, and something niggled at the back of my mind, but she turned to look at the van across the street, and the moment was broken. I was here, and I had no time to deeply examine it at the moment.

I was left with a conundrum. Did I abandon the van? Grab the next bus out of town? Did I book it across the street and risk they’d sabotaged, booby trapped or otherwise tampered with our ride, on the chance I could skip town faster? They knew Gladys, so we were gonna have to ditch her sooner than later anyway. Especially since I didn’t know who they were.

I couldn’t think of any reason anyone would want me dead over alive, so I made a break for it, van key gripped in one hand, pack held in the other as I jogged quietly as I could manage to the side of the van, head on a swivel. I slipped in behind Lo who threaded her way between the driver seat and wall to the back while I dropped my pack between the seats, looking to the back for stowaways and holding my breath for the explosion or alarm I was so sure was coming. I was still alive, so I cranked it as I shut the door and hit the gas just shy of peeling out. I looked in the rearview just in time to see two dark figures dash into the street behind me as I turned a corner.

Once I was sure I didn’t have an immediate tail, I called Lou.

“Lucy? What’s up?”

“Got bad news. My asshole ex I told you about found me.”

“Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, Lou, I’m fine. I got away, but I gotta skip town.”

“Lucy, you can come stay with us. You don’t need to-”

“Lou, I need you to trust me on this, and I can’t stay on the phone. If anyone asks, you don’t know anything about me. I just needed to call so you would know why I was gone. No milk cartons.” I used our safe phrase, so he’d know I didn’t have an abusive ex next to me listening. “I wanted to thank you and Marci for everything and let you know you won’t be hearing from me again. I have to ditch this phone when I hang up.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Me, too, Lou. You take care of Marci and that baby. Kiss them both every day.”

“I will, but-.”

“I have to go. Goodbye, Lou.” I hung up and chucked the phone in the bed of a pickup I passed at an intersection. 

The cat hopped up on the passenger seat beside me. “Thanks, friend. I owe you a steak dinner or something.” I reached over and scratched her head and she purred before turning a few circles and settling with her tail laid over her nose. 

“Shit… just as I was getting used to Lucy Wilson.” I took off the blonde wig and tossed it in the back, running my hand through my now close cropped curls. “At least I got paid tonight.” I got on the highway, and headed out of town without looking back.

Chapter Text

I just drove vaguely west while I sorted my thoughts, stopping a couple hours down the road at a rest area the opposite side of Madison to search Gladys with a flashlight, finding three tracker buttons: on the undercarriage, behind the bumper and behind a tire in a wheel well, as well as a couple of bugs inside. I also threw out the rabbit stew in the slow cooker while Lo growled at me angrily, unassuaged by my worries that it might have been drugged if they had been inside. I left the bugs and took the buttons, putting them into a ziplock bag in a cupholder on the dash while I sang along with the radio and hit the road again, taking mostly back roads and stopping for a short, caffeine-buffered power nap in the wee hours of the morning.

I got lucky mid morning in Des Moines and hit a big box store parking lot around opening time to see a truck and camper trailer setup with an older couple coming out, I waited for them to head inside, followed, picked up a few things, including a nice steak and piece of salmon for my esteemed partner while I kept tabs on the couple. I converged with them again later, and after looking absentmindedly at the snacks I grabbed the cart closest to me. 

“Miss!” I turned to look and the lady was pointing to the cart. “I think you took the wrong cart.”

I looked down. “What?” I looked at the box wine by my hand, picking it up as I palmed the little bag of tracker buttons inside and under the handle. “Well, it surely is not! I am so sorry.” I indicated the wine. “Shoulda noticed! My brand, but I’m not a Chardonnay gal.” I pointed at my own cart with the same brand but the Malbec.

“Well, no harm done.”

“Say, I think I saw y’all outside. Is that your travel trailer out there? How do you like that Airstream? I just love the look of the older models.”

Her husband spoke up. “Oh, we like it still, had it for oh, probably twenty years.”

“Wow, you must take good care of it. My folks had one for years. I had a lot of good memories in it. Say, do you know of any good sites around here?”

“Oh, no, we’re just passing through. On our way to Yellowstone!” the lady chimed in. “Family reunion!”

I grinned. “That sounds so wonderful! Well, y’all have a safe trip! Apologies again for trying to steal your Chard.”

She grinned back and laughed, “Oh, no harm done.”

He smiled, “You have a good day now.”

“You, too.” I took the correct cart this time, meandered a bit more. I checked out just ahead of them, seeing my debit card still worked and drawing as much cash as I could. I figured if they knew exactly where I was I might as well get what I could. Then waved to them again as they loaded up a few spaces away with a few jokes about “gotta stop meeting like this”. Then, I putzed about, letting Lo back inside from where she hid in the shade under the van, until I could pull from the parking lot at the same time, casually following them out of town before jumping ahead of them on the freeway, taking the next interchange and heading south on the interstate, nursing my energy drink.

The cat looked up at me from where she was still on the passenger seat and trilled quietly at me.

“I know, Lo. They aren’t good for me, but I didn’t exactly get time to make a pot of coffee this morning.”

She reached a paw across and rested it on my leg.

“I’ll sleep when we stop. I promise.” I stroked her head and scratched behind her ears and she purred, leaning into my hand. I eventually pulled off on a side road and stopped in a small Missouri town with a seedy looking used car dealership right on the main drag. Honest Bob himself talked me out of Gladys and $300 for a 1965 Econoline van. It was a dingy off-white, gutted to a cargo hold inside, empty aside from the front seats and center console, minimal rust, and turned over on the second crank with just a little sweet talking. I took it around town for a bit and then let it run loudly while Bob and I haggled over what was staying with my DIY camper van (besides the bugs) and what I was taking, aside from my bedding. Satisfied it would get me down the road a ways, I took my personal items and bedding, as well as the license plates, minifridge and portable hand sink, much to Bob’s chagrin. I quipped that if he took the solar panels and battery bank, he ought to owe me money for taking the vintage Ford off his hands, but I wanted Gladys to hit the road again quickly, so I didn’t fight too hard about it. Everything went in the new chariot, followed by Lo who took her customary place in the new passenger seat with some amount of disgruntlement. Bob and I exchanged titles, cash and a handshake, and I drove back north the way we’d come and through a previous town where I quickly switched license plates with a sedan parked behind a gas station before heading west and south again toward Witchita. 

It was night now, someplace south of Tulsa, I’d been up nearly 30 hours aside from a couple of quick power naps. Lo was sitting on the center console, occasionally licking my arm to keep me awake, I finally gave up when she set her claws in my thigh to make me jerk back off the shoulder into my lane. I pulled off on a county highway, stopped on a dirt access road between some cornfields, and grabbed Steve’s gray hoodie. I pulled it on and let Lo out, setting a can of sardines out for her, knowing that was one of the few canned options she’d eat in a pinch.

She flicked her ear at me when she saw dinner. “I’m sorry, highness, unfortunately every road dinner can’t be kippers and toast,” I reasoned while I made myself a PBJ. She just gave me a little “mrrp” sound and ate before wandering off into the cornfield. 

I assessed the situation and a map while we ate, the heel of my palm dragging roughly over my left hip and thigh as I tried to stretch it out and alleviate the shooting pains and cramps. I wasn’t happy about starting over when Gladys had been set up so well, but at least I had a lot of my equipment still and all my personal items, which was an advantage to not hardwiring anything. I’d been far worse off before the big blue and battered GMC that Winnie Rogers had picked up in Southern Illinois for a couple week’s worth of earnings at Stella’s Diner. 

I was still sitting in the open side door of the van when Lo came back a little while later, rubbing around my legs. When I didn’t move, she stretched up, her front paws resting on my shoulder and meowed softly at me. I looked at her and scratched her neck. “I know, Lo. I just still feel itchy.” 

She hopped inside, and I followed her in and locked the doors. I didn’t follow her to the bedding I’d half-heartedly arranged on the floor, opting instead to climb back into the driver's seat, setting a timer for 3 hours and putting the keys in the ignition. She yowled at me from the back.

“It’s okay, Lo, you can sleep back there without me. We’ll make some more time and I’ll find a proper place to take a day to rest and get things set up. I’m just gonna sleep long enough to be functional to drive again. By then we should have a bit of breathing room.” I leaned the seat back and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I felt a warm weight stretch across my lap and Lo’s vibrating purr against my thighs. I smiled and stroked her back where she lay across my lap and the flat center console. “Thanks, sweetie. I’m sorry about your rabbit.” She just nudged my other hand, giving it a little lick, and I scratched under her chin until I was asleep a minute later.

When the alarm went off, I actually felt slightly better than I expected (which is to say just like death itself and not death warmed over) and after a quick constitutional, some pain meds, and a stretch on the side of the road we loaded up and went back to the highway.

Late that morning, we made it to a state campground somewhere in Southern Arkansas. 

I set a fire to burn down to coals for cooking and then set to work. I pulled everything out of the cargo area and started shaking out, patting down, and generally inspecting every item closely before installing it in its permanent home in the new van, working silently and thoroughly. I found another bug in my pillow, and one behind the basin of the hand sink which I promptly crushed. Then, as I was pulling things out of the minifridge I found another tracker button on the underside and cursed loudly and thoroughly while I crushed it. 

“This is what I get for trying to save anything ever . Sonuva bitch !” I sunk to the ground, head on my crossed arms resting on my knees. “ Fuck. ” I tried to think of an answer that didn’t involve me ditching everything and starting over. I knew the paranoia would never let me go if I didn’t. Everything I took that had been in the van I would wonder if I had missed something. What had I missed, a tracker or a bug? Were they listening for clues to where I was, whether I’d give them whatever information they’re after, or did they know where I was? I didn’t know anything about where any of them were. Steve, Nat, Bucky, and Sam were all in the wind to my knowledge. Maybe they thought I’d know how to find them. That I had some sort of signal or clue to contact them? Or maybe they thought someone would come for me if they took me into custody. That was worse, because I thought a couple of them might just be that rash. Or was it what I’d been working on for the last few months? I couldn’t even reason out loud. Even had to be careful what I said to my damn cat for fear I missed a bug and they’d know.

Lo growled deeply from where she lay stretched out the length of the picnic table sunning in the rays of afternoon sun coming through the trees that lit and broke up her seemingly inky black coat, showing the pattern of deep brown spots, almost rosettes, instead of stripes underneath that made me think “melanated bobcat” again rather than the “espresso tabby” that most black cats actually were.

I cooked the steak and salmon and some vegetables over the coals and we ate quickly. The first full meal, not eaten behind the wheel or out of a gas station in two days. I cleaned up and packed everything away again. “C’mon, Lo.” She followed me inside and I locked up behind us before flopping on the bed. I was too exhausted to pull another all-day/nighter. I had to take a few hours rest at least, and hope for the best. Maybe that nice lady was a light drinker. Then I realized crushing what I’d found had been a mistake. There had been two signals, and they’d know which signal was me now. I cursed again for my exhaustion and the waste of time and energy it had become for one single mistake, and set the timer for 2 hours. I’d make a final decision then. I didn’t even bother changing clothes, I just kicked off my shoes and rolled over to plant my face in the pillow. Lo hopped up and meowed at me, nudging the side of my head.

I rolled over and she took her usual place stretched along my left side. I buried my fingers in her mane, scratching behind her ears feeling her rumble against my hip until I fell into a restless sleep, stirred by every noise outside, and settling again when the cat was unphased by it.

The alarm went off and I drug myself to the front seat. I drove us to a different town some miles down the road, where I swapped plates with another van. Then I lucked onto an apartment complex doing rennovations and pulled around to the dumpsters. I pulled everything out of the cargo area except my go-bag, what had been on my person that night, what little I bought after Milwaukee (basically a day or so worth of food), and anything I couldn’t conceive of a way to hide something in, which wasn’t much outside of my cooking, tool, and first aid kits. Everything I pulled out, I left in and around the dumpsters, like someone was moving out. Then, I drove us straight back out to the highway, heading south and east. By late afternoon it was getting difficult to stay awake again. 

I hit a big box store we saw from the highway and bought new sheets and blankets, a thick memory foam mattress, pillows, and splurged on an incredibly fluffy down comforter, a few plants, and a string of LED fairy lights with a solar charger. Comforts accounted for, I shifted to necessaries. A new cooler, sandwich fixings and some fruits and vegetables, a few cans of sardines and salmon for Lo in case pickings were slim for her or we didn’t have time for an extended stop. A new portable burner. A jug of cold brew coffee. I looped around the back and grabbed a couple of pallets to get the bed off the lumpy van floor. 

Then we hit the road again. Lo dozed until she felt me hit the rumble strip a couple of hours later, and then perched dutifully on the console helping to keep me awake again. I couldn’t help but wonder again what kind of strange, witch’s familiar of a black cat I’d found myself with. Night fell and I pulled off in a campground someplace near the Alabama border. I let Lo out, made a water run, cleaned up some, and set up the new bedding. I made myself a sandwich, and opened a can of salmon, which brought the feline quickly back from her adventures. We ate, I set out some water for her, and locked up, then I toed off my shoes and got into bed, falling asleep even before Lo joined me.

An arm around my waist, holding me against a firm, warm body in the shadows. Soft lips moving along my jaw and to my ear. A voice, low and rough with need. “Tell me you want me to stop, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you dare.” Silky hair between my fingers, clinging to the man tugging me against him, pushing his thigh between my legs, his quickly hardening erection against my hip. “Bucky… I miss you so much… please, James…”

A throaty moan as a cool, smooth hand finds my breast under my shirt, soft lips and tongue finding my own. The smell, the taste, the warmth and strength of his arms, the weight of his body against me and my touch starved body wants to cry for the overwhelming feel of him. “Please, James…” I sob, desperate for more of him, his skin on mine, the taste of him on my tongue, his longing and his love enveloping me.

The world shakes and with a roar the shadows collapse in around us and he’s gone. I’m alone in the dark and everything is heavy. Everything hurts. I scream. I cry out for help. I struggle against the weight, fighting to breathe.

A light, a hand helping me out of the dark. Bright blue eyes and big, hot, calloused hands against my neck, my face. Strong arms folding me against a broad chest. Different lips, pressing against mine, hungry. “I have to go now, darlin.”

“No… Not yet…” I cling to him, “Just a few minutes…” I press my lips to his, again and again, desperate. “Please, Stevie. Don’t leave me… You said you didn’t want to leave me, Steve!”

“You said we had to, Cookie.” Once more, reluctant to part, tongues gliding against each other, greedy.

I heard Bucky’s voice, sad. “We’re just doing what you wanted, sweetheart.” A silvery arm wrapping around Steve’s broad shoulders, pulling him away. And, I hear sounds behind me. Howls, screeches, blasts and explosions.

“No, that’s not-! No, please! Don’t leave me behind! Please!” I limp, hobble through the rubble after them, tripping and slipping over jagged concrete and steel. I feel the hot tears streak down my face as the howls get closer. I look over my shoulder. Feral, terrifying faces, pointed teeth and gray scales in a tidal wave, like the ocean crashing toward me amid blue and white flame.

I try harder to run. “Don’t leave me alone! Buck! Steve! Please!” I see them walking away. “Please don’t leave me behind!” They walk, arms around each other, heads together. Happy. “Steve, help me! Buck, please!” They look back at me, smile, hold out their hands for me but I can’t reach. My leg won’t work anymore. I drag it as the howls and screams get closer. “Help! Please! Why won’t you come back for me! You promised, James! You promised me you’d come back! You both said you lov-” My words die in a screeching cry as claws and teeth and fire dig into my flesh-

My eyes snapped open with a gasping cry but I couldn’t sit up in the dark. Something rough and wet rasping against my nose as I lay panting, trying to remember where I am. A warm, heavy weight on my torso, vibrating through my body. I raised my hand to find thick fur, hear a soft trill. “Lo…” I wrapped my arms around her and cried. Rather than struggle from my arms, she just purred louder, licking the tears running down my cheeks, nuzzling and rubbing her cheeks and head against my face and neck, the weight of her body grounding me while I fought to come back to the present, to get away from my own fears that haunted my sleep.

Eventually, I calmed again. “I’m okay now, Lo.” She gave my nose a soft little nip and I kissed the top of her head. “You’re right, but I will be. I’m sorry I worried you, dear. Thank you.” She gave me another head rub, but didn’t move off my chest, just tucked her front paws under and settled again, closing her eyes, continuing to purr. I smiled, and petted her until I drifted off again.

I woke around the same time as the sun, still feeling itchy, anxious to put another day of travel between us and whoever was so interested. Lo absolutely did not want me to get up. She was sprawled on her side on top of me, head on my chest. When I started to stir she rolled her eyes up at me and gave me a slow blink. “Morning, highness. Time to get up.” 

She just yawned and laid her head back down.

“C’mon, Lo.” I started to shift under her. “I know you want me to sleep more, but we gotta make some miles today.”

She literally growled down at me, extending her paws on either side of my face.

“I beg your pardon, miss. How very dare you.” I turned on my side, dumping her off to a yowl of protest. “You can stay right here and sleep, but unless you’ve suddenly learned to drive, I gotta move.”

She looked up at me and lashed her tail indignantly.

“If I make my destination today, I promise I will sleep in tomorrow.”

She huffed, but when I opened the door she slid down from the bed and went outside with me.

That evening we were somewhere in Kisatchie National forest, deep in the heart of Louisiana and I had found us a legitimate campground with a shower house, which I happily availed myself of, even if the water never got hot. But we were far enough south that the fall air wasn’t too chilly when I came out. I made myself a sandwich and gave Lo the rest of the turkey, promising I would cook something tomorrow when we woke up while I locked up. I changed into my sleepwear, flannel pants and Bucky’s t-shirt, and crawled in bed, mentally setting my itinerary for tomorrow. Cooking something for breakfast, laundry, a library, maybe some reclamation and repurposing behind a store or two if I saw anything promising. I would at least like to rebuild the bedframe and storage in the new van, so I’d need materials. Once I was settled, Lo hopped up with an imperious air, almost as though I were finally letting her do a necessary job only she were capable of doing competently, taking her usual spot stretched along my left side. Her purring warmth lulled me almost immediately into a blissfully dreamless, exhausted sleep, my hand buried deep in her mane, her tail draped over my feet.

It was nearly noon when I woke the next day. Lo had migrated up to rest her head on my shoulder, her front legs hugging my left arm against her stomach, my little spoon with my right hand buried in the mane behind her ears. My fingers scritched lazily and I felt, more than heard an answering purr against my body. We lay there a long time, the sun was already getting high and warming the inside of the van uncomfortably. I bent to kiss the top of her head. She rolled her head up to look at me and give me a slow blink. I returned it, and gave a few more scritches in her favorite spot on the side of her neck below her right ear. Then, she deemed herself satisfied with my attention and rolled languidly out of the curve of my body.

We hit the road again, spent over a week in southern Louisiana around Baton Rouge and New Orleans that were not as fruitful as I’d hoped, even if the food was great, then headed west again.

Chapter Text

Over a week after leaving New Orleans via a meandering route along the coast, a strong circle to the north to avoid the Houston traffic, and several business stops along the way, we were camped someplace between Austin and San Antonio.

I got up and threw Steve’s hoodie on over a pair of yoga pants, my laundry day attire. I gathered up my one armload of clothes, slipped a laundry pod, my toothbrush and keys in the hoodie pocket, pulled up the hood, and emerged from the van letting Lo out with me. “Watch out for coyotes!” I called after her as she disappeared into the scrub surrounding the campground.

I trekked up the path toward the clubhouse, finding the laundry facility, starting my one small load and ducking into the bathroom to brush my teeth etc, while it ran. Then, figuring I still had a bit of time, I ducked into the small shop adjacent to the clubhouse. Everything was obviously price gouged, but the convenience of not making another stop last night had outweighed the tourist trapping for me. I bought a few things and some ice for the cooler, then I moved the laundry to the dryer to finish while I took my purchases back to the van.

Lo was sitting beside the van looking extremely proud of herself. At her feet lay a possum, almost half as big as herself, field dressed in her usual style. She was also covered in burrs, little stickers with their velcro exteriors and thorny goatheads both, the seedheads caught in her long fur, head to tail.

I groaned in frustration. “Lo, what the actual fuck.”

She blinked, looked down at her prize and back up at me.

“I said a month, Lokitty. Regardless of that, I’m not cooking some fucking trash-fed campground possum.”

She yowled at me.

“I don’t care that you didn’t get to eat the rabbit. I cooked it, and that was the deal. Do better negotiating next time. If you wanna eat it, fine, but you can do it au natural like the cat you are. It’s not touching my tools. And if you barf it up later it better not be in the van.”

Her tail lashed back and forth and she huffed loudly.

“I’m not cooking that for you. I’d be mad as hell at you right now even if you didn’t drag that back here. Look at you! It’s gonna take me half the afternoon with a shedding comb to get all that mess out of you! I’ve half a mind to save time and just shave your ass again!”

She huffed at me again, grabbed her kill by the back leg and drug it back out into the scrub toward the nearby cottonwood-lined stream.

I shook my head after her and pulled my camp stove and the cooler out of the van, setting them on the table. “And watch out for fuckin’ coyotes!” I yelled after her.

“That’s a big cat.” I heard in a low drawl.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s either part bobcat, or some kind of spirit creature.” I looked up to see who had spoken. And up. And up.

He was huge. Not quite as big as Hulk, but for sure one of the bigger enhanced people I’d interacted with. Well over seven feet, by my guess, and nearly as broad. A warm orangey-brown color all over, his body was covered in heavy leathery plates. Finally my gaze found dark brown eyes in a heavy-featured face. His gaze quickly shifted back to the way the cat had gone. “You sure she’s not a bruja?”

“Nope.” I chuckled, “Wonder all the time.” I opened the drain valve on the cooler to let the melted ice from yesterday out into a bucket below. “I may eventually find out whether Lo’s a curandera of some kind.” He blinked down at me for the flip of cultural reference and I smiled up at him. “But the world is full of interesting and surprising people these days, and she’s been a good travel partner who’s brought me some solid luck.” I reloaded with the new ice I’d just bought, and pulled out a few things. “So, I try not to hold it against her when she does very ‘cat’ things. Like bringing me random headless animals from time to time.”

“You okay, miss?” I leaned back a little to look past the big man to see the campground supervisor I’d met in the shop.

“Yeaaah…?” I drawled, confused. “Do I look like I have a problem?”

He shrugged. “Lady out here on her own, just wanna make sure this guy ain’t botherin you.” The big man shifted uncomfortably, about to say something.

“Not a bit,” I retorted, not pointing out he may not have known I was alone until that comment. I tried not to bristle at the way I was reminded of people’s general mistrust of enhanced people like Hulk who looked very different. “My friend here was just about to join me for brunch.” I set my big frypan on the camp stove and lit it. “Weren’t you, big guy?”

He just blinked at me. “Uhh…” The other man looked up at him and he quickly recovered. “Yeah, chica.” He sat on the ground by the picnic table. “Wouldn’t miss your cookin for nuthin.”

The man looked skeptical, but shrugged and turned away. “You’re using the laundry, right? I heard a dryer alarm on my way out.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be up there shortly.”

He left and I turned back to the business at hand, setting a pan on the campstove and proceeding to crack a full dozen eggs into it. My new companion started to get up. “Thanks.”

“Where you goin, big guy? Gonna make a liar of me?” 

He looked down at me in surprise.

“I can’t eat all these eggs myself, y’know.” I scrambled them in the pan and threw in some ham and cheese. I set a bottle of hot sauce on the table and a couple of plates. I pushed the eggs out onto the plates, a reasonable amount for me, and the rest for him, then put a bit of butter to melt in the pan and returned it to the flame and threw in some bread to toast. Then, I whistled and Lo came loping back up as I pushed the larger plate toward the large man with several pieces of buttered toasted bread stacked on top. “Eat up, big guy.”

He looked down at the plate and fork in front of him. His fingers ended in large, blunt claws. I grinned and grabbed a piece of bread, scooping up a healthy mound of eggs with it like a taco and gave him a wink. “We’re not any too precious on table manners around here, bud. Do whatever works best for you.” I set the rest of my plate in front of Lo, who despite her somewhat distended looking belly, polished off the rest of the scramble before crawling under the van for a nap in the shade. I smiled after her before turning back, plopping some hot sauce on my own breakfast situation and giving my guest a little mock cheers before digging in myself, holding a hand under to catch the bits of egg that inevitably fell out.

He finally started eating and the plate was clean in a matter of moments. He gave me a small smile. “ Gracias .”

I smiled broadly. “ De nada .” I took his plate. “What’s your name, friend?”

“Armadillo.”

“Well, obviously.” I shook my head with a smile. “Not your stage name, hon. I’ve seen you fight. Your real name.”

He looked a little taken aback. “You’ve seen me fight?”

“I have,” I grinned. “My boyfriend took me to a UFL match. I thought you were amazing.”

“Which fight?”

I think my eyes went a little distant, remembering that night. It had been brutal. “Axum, Madison Square Gardens.” His big form seemed to wilt before my eyes. “You shouldn’t have lost that match,” I continued. “You deserved better.”

He looked up again and met my eyes. “Antonio. Rodriguez.”

I smiled. “Nice to meet you, Antonio.” I extended a hand. “Sarah Grant.” It was the first thing that had rolled off my tongue, probably because Steve was the one who had taken me to see the fight, back before we were dating.

He took my hand between two big claws, and when I didn’t flinch, he smiled back and shook my hand. “You just passing through, chica?”

“I’ll be here a few days, probably. If I can manage it. Got business in the area, then heading south again.” I started washing everything and rinsing the dishes with the melted water from the cooler.

“Not a lot more south of here but Mexico.”

I shrugged.

He gave me a concerned look. “You running, chica?” I raised a brow at him and he raised his claws in surrender, as if eight inch long blunt claws could ever look truly non-threatening. “Just seem like too nice a person to be alone and running. Sorry, not my business.”

“It’s not.” I agreed. “Let’s just say I’m on a quest of sorts.” He gave me a quizzical look. “To prove a point.” He only looked more confused. “That enhanced people deserve better than the Accords. That we can do better.” 

He blinked. “Wha’d’ya mean?”

“Tell you what, Antonio,” I said, drying my hands, “I need to get my laundry and go into town, but if you really want to know, come back for dinner tomorrow night. If you know anyone trustworthy and good in a fight, bring them along.”

He regarded me for a long minute, then got up. “Thanks for the eggs, Miss Sarah.”

I smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome, Mr. Rodriguez, any time. I’ll see you around.”

He nodded and turned away, ambling his way back up the path.

I finished tidying up and storing things away, then headed up the path and collected my laundry. I dipped my head into the store again, assuring the nosy camp host that I was fine, and letting him know I was driving into town but I would be back in the late afternoon, so he wouldn’t take my clean site as an early vacancy. When I got back, Lo crawled out from under the van and watched me fold my clothes and stow them away. 

“Okay, Lo, I’m going into town. You coming with, or staying here?” She yawned and stretched and then leapt up to lay astride a lower limb of the sprawling live oak that shaded our campsite and the vacant one beside it. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll take a nap myself when I get back. Or just go to bed early.” She raised her head and looked down at me, giving me a slow blink, which I returned before getting in the van and trundling my way out of the campsite toward the nearest town.

I hit the local library and after running one of the public computers through multiple VPNs I checked my new email, answered a few, and did a little research on the local powered people scene. Afterward, I hit the grocery store and the gas station before heading back to the campsite. After dinner, I spent the evening combing and brushing Lo within an inch of her life while cussing a blue streak at her and threatening the clippers while she preened and purred like she planned the whole damn thing, high maintenance bitch she was.

Antonio did come back the next evening with an interesting group. I’d made chili and johnnycakes and we all shared the meal while I coaxed some information from them. 

The three women were formerly members of the Serpent Society, a splinter group of Hydra gone mostly into theft, blackmail and assassination, sort of a working union for unsavory characters. Which, honestly, good for them getting healthcare. They had left that life and now were trying to make their way in a heroic space, but uncomfortable with the visibility the registration act would bring. They called themselves B.A.D.Girls Inc. Black Mamba, the Asp and Diamondback.

The gentleman called himself Nomad. There were a few flags that went up in my brain. I didn’t expect him to be here. I thought he would be firmly on the west coast. “You were a survivor of a serum experimentation project,” I said and he nodded. “They dropped you from the Captain America program, though.” 

“Captain America program? I didn’t know they tried to replace Steve Rogers.” Diamondback said, tucking her shaggy pink bob behind one ear. She had green eyes and a very slight lilt that I guessed got deeper the longer she spent in the South, much like my own.

“People like figureheads.” I shrugged. “They tried several times while Cap was MIA to my knowledge. But it’s never worked out long term for one reason or another. Just one of those little, quiet, unethical adventures of the good ol’ government.” 

Mental instability seemed to be a common side effect of American serum experiments. But, it’s rare they kept super soldiers around once that crops up. They generally get put in the express line to ‘disposal’. Instead, in an uncharacteristic moment of ‘waste not, want not’ Jack Monroe had been in and out of cryo multiple times, running missions for the American government, much like Bucky had for Hydra, occasionally going on walkabout at the end of a mission until he would get caught and brought back in. That’s until he went AWOL a couple years ago. It seemed in poor taste to offer up that tidbit in front of him, though.

“How do you know, then?” Black Mamba asked, taking a johnnycake. She was built like a supermodel, light olive skin tone, long black hair and sharp green eyes that held suspicion.

“Not everything in the big info leak a couple of years ago was HYDRA. There was a lot of SHIELD, and just DoD classified documents related to the Avengers Initiative in those files as well.” I slathered some honey butter on a round of cornbread and offered the bowl to her.

“What’s your angle, then,” Asp asked quietly. She seemed more reserved than her companions, Middle Eastern in accent and appearance with wide brown eyes and a litheness to her that screamed ‘dancer’ in my mind.

“I’m starting an independent registry of enhanced people and mutants. People like Cap who are opposed to the Accords and refused the Registration Act, but still want to help people. Neither the Avengers, nor Cap’s team can be everywhere at once, so I’m developing a list of people who would be sort of on speed dial when something pops up in their neighborhood, or a situation that their particular skill set would be ideally suited to handle. Strictly volunteer, and no personal information will be included. If you want only your pseudonym and a contact on your dossier, that’s all that will be there.”

“You know the Avengers?” Antonio asked. He’d been occupied with eating up until now and was contently using a piece of cornbread to mop the bowl of his third helping.

“I used to work for them. Some I would even consider friends. Steve Rogers took me to that fight of yours.” 

His eyes got a bit wide. “You said yo-”

“I know what I said, Antonio,” I cut him off quietly and he took the hint.

“That why you’re on the run?” Nomad finally spoke up again, his voice a gravelly baritone. He had a strikingly thick, unruly mane of brown hair that fell well past his shoulders, framing a face I could only describe as hard and world weary.

I nodded. “It’s counter productive to this project to let the government get its hands on the little rolodex I’ve built up. This is the best way I have to help Cap and his team, wherever they are.”

“Do you know how to reach them?” Asp asked.

I shook my head. “I haven’t been in contact with any of the Avengers, current or former, since I left the Compound months ago. Certain groups are deeply skeptical of that fact, and I’d really rather not have a direct discussion with them about it.”

Diamondback set her bowl aside. “What’s your end goal?” 

“Regional teams. Already have one up north. And a quick response network for continental and planetary level threats.”

“The Great Lakes Initiative.” Black Mamba picked at her cornbread, thoughtfully. “That was you.”

“That was them. I just put an idea in the ear of the right person and provided some contacts.”

“But all of them signed.” Asp pointed out.

I shrugged. “Had to start someplace. Consider it a portfolio project. I can drop a few other names if you need references.”

They asked me several more questions and we talked until the fire was little more than embers. I offered them each a business card bearing only an email address. “If you decide you want to be a part of this, or you need to contact me, use this email.”

Antonio gave me his information right away. I think he wanted to feel like he could help. The BAD Girls took the cards and said they’d discuss it among themselves. Then, it was just Nomad and I sitting across the dying fire from each other.

He was flipping and turning the card between his fingers. “How you plan to get this information to Captain America’s team, if you don’t know where he is or have any way to contact them?”

“They promised to find me when it’s safe to do it.” I got up and threw away the disposable dishes we’d used. “And Steve Rogers is a man of his word. Until then, I keep the bullpen busy with other projects.” 

I cleaned up the rest of dinner, and Jack kept watching the fire, occasionally asking me something or making a comment. He seemed reluctant to leave. 

“Thank you.” He finally said quietly as I sat down again. 

“For what?” 

“Not talking about whatever else you know about me.” He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, hair falling around his face and shoulders. “I don’t know everything that’s in my file, but if you read enough to know I was dropped from the program, you’ll know why.”

Lo came out of the shadows, having made herself scarce while company was around, just her bright eyes watching us from under the van. “No reason why I should tell your business.” The cat hopped up on the bench beside me, laying with her top half across my lap. His eyebrows raised a little, but he didn’t comment on my furry companion. “Not my story to share.” I buried my fingers in the ruff behind her ear and she purred. “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for the things that happened to you. The things they did to you and made you do. I completely understand if you don’t want anything to do with this. You deserve better than more fighting after everything you’ve been through, Mr. Monroe.”

He looked up, the dimming embers cast weaving shadows across his hard features. Something passed across his face that felt like a decision made. “Call me Jack.” I gave him an easy smile. He nearly returned it, a bare softening around the eyes and the edges of his mouth. “What should I call you? You never gave us a name.”

“I’m going by Sarah Grant right now, that works as well as anything.”

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” He still didn’t smile, but something eased a little more in the lines of his mouth and jaw that was close.

“You, too, Jack.”

“Where are you headed after this?”

“South. There’s a couple of heavy hitters I’m trying to track down.” Antonio hadn’t been wrong, there wasn’t much South of here before you hit the border, but I’d heard rumors that someone I was looking for might be in Mexico City.

That flicker of a choice made crossed his face again and he stood. “You probably want to call it a night, and I have a few things to do. It was good talking to you, Sarah.” He resettled his heavy duster coat around him. I wasn’t sure what it was made of, but not leather, maybe something like kevlar. That and the hair made him look like the protagonist of some 80s era road warrior flick. I hoped he had some wraparound, mirrored sunglasses to complete the look.

“You, too, Jack. Goodnight.”

He left, and a few minutes later I heard a motorcycle down by the office. Lo looked up at me and then hopped down, padding over to the van.

“Yeah, I’m bushed. Bedtime, buddy.” I killed the fire with the dishwater and finished stowing everything away for the night. When I climbed into the van, Lo was already in bed waiting for me and gave me a yawn and a slow blink, which I returned. I locked up, changed out of my jeans into sleep shorts, slipped my bra out from under my tee shirt, and climbed in bed. Lo immediately took her normal spot, the soft warmth of her fur all down my left leg.

Chapter Text

Jack came back the next evening. I welcomed him with a smile, which seemed to lift some weight from him, like he wasn’t sure of his reception. I was more than happy to share the rest of the chili with some potatoes I baked in the coals of the fire. He took my water jugs down the path to the spigot and filled them, then carried those multiple five gallon water bags and jugs all back together like it was nothing and set them inside the van except one on the table. Damn supersoldier strength.  

Lo yelled at me about not giving her any chili despite me explaining the spices would make her sick, but was appeased by a few hot dogs I warmed up for her and melted some cheese on.

He looked a little bemused at me arguing with my cat. “You act like she can understand you.”

I shrugged. “I’m not convinced she can’t, honestly. I certainly don’t think she’s a normal cat.” She looked up from her hotdog and gave me a slow blink that made me chuckle.

“Yeah?” He gave her a serious look. “She certainly doesn’t look like an average cat. Biggest I’ve ever seen, for sure.”

“Same.” I said, fishing the potatoes out of the coals with a pair of tongs and tossing a couple of logs on to catch. “We’ve been looking out for each other for awhile now, and I’ve never regretted her adopting me. Even if she does bring me dead things sometimes.” 

“Mice?”

“You name it. The other day it was a possum. Once it was a raccoon almost as big as her.” She hopped up on the bench beside me and sat proudly as she cleaned her face, and I smiled at her fondly.

The corner of his mouth quirked. I might get a smile out of him yet.

We finished eating, and he helped clean up and then took the trash down to the dumpsters by the office for me. When he came back I was sitting by the fire, Lokitty draped over my lap purring blissfully. “Thanks for doing the heavy lifting tonight, Jack.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Least I can do for the best couple meals I’ve had in a long time.”

“Anytime, sug.” I answered warmly.

He met my eyes suddenly. “What’d you just call me?”

“Huh? Sug, y’know, like sugar? Sorry, the endearments just pop out sometimes. It’s the southern mom in me. Apologies if that wasn’t okay.”

“No!” He shook his head quickly. “No, it’s fine. It’s just… it surprised me.”

“Oh. But, still, if it makes you uncomfortable-” 

“No, please. Call me whatever you want.” Something in his answer made me feel like nobody had called him anything fond in a very long time.

Oh, fuck. Did I just accidentally adopt a puppy? He had a look in his brown eyes, warm in the firelight that I was getting a little too accustomed to. The look of a man glomming onto the first person to show him kindness and emotional stability like they hung the moon and all the stars, too. His version was guarded, growling, but it was such a jump from his normal scowl that I recognized it anyway. Fuck.

“How close are you to Steve Rogers?”

My mind felt whiplash at the sudden transition. “Beg pardon?”

“Armadillo said something last night that made me think maybe you had more than just friends among the Avengers. And you talk about him like you know him pretty well.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not. He’s just someone I really admire. I wonder what he’s really like. Not working.”

I chuckled. “Steve Rogers is almost always working.” I regarded him for a second. “I guess it stands to reason you’d feel that way.”

“What d’you mean?”

I worked my fingers in Lo’s rough. “I read your file, remember? I know you weren’t a Cap candidate, Jack.” There were phases of the Captain America program they didn’t just try to make a new Cap. Sometimes they wanted a team, something like the Howling Commandos. “You were a Bucky.”

His face fell, looking down at his hands.

“That’s not bad, Jack. It just is. But, I also know that means you’re pretty attached to the idea of Steve.” Buckys were groomed to be deeply attached to their Captain America, a perfect partner, utterly loyal and even adoring. Jack had lost his partner Cap a long time ago when he grew too unstable for even pulling in and out of cryo for missions. “Steve isn’t an idea. He isn’t just Captain America. At the end of the day, he’s a man. A good man, yes. But, just a man, with wants and needs and dreams and hobbies, likes and dislikes. So is Bucky.”

His eyes snapped back up in a way that almost startled me. “You know him, too?”

“I do.” I answered warily.

“He’s a traitor.”

“He’s not!” I snapped without thinking.

His eyes narrowed. “You really don’t think so? All the things he did?”

“The Winter Soldier is not the real Bucky Barnes. Hydra tortured and psychologically programmed him for years to make him into that.” I knew my face was hard, my eyes sure as they met his. “They brainwashed Buck until he didn’t have a choice in the things they made him do. Just like you didn’t really get a choice about who your Cap was and the things he told you were okay. The things you did ‘for the cause’ because they made you believe you were Bucky and that Bucky is some sort of Captain America accessory. Bucky isn’t that, or the cold blooded murderer Hydra made him, and you are not just the failed Cap sidekick the DoD told you you are, Jack.”

He stared at me for a long time, his body pulled tight as a bowstring, and I didn’t know him nearly well enough to predict which way the complex things he was feeling would make him jump. Lo raised her head from my lap, the tip of her tail twitching back and forth as she watched him. He finally blinked, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I should go.” He got up so quickly, it was all I could do to keep my own reaction calm. I think he saw it, and I saw a pained expression cross his face. “Thanks for dinner,” he said apologetically.

“Goodnight, Jack.” I said to his back as he walked quickly away. I didn’t take another easy breath until I heard his motorcycle at the other end of the path. Then, I exhaled heavily. “Hoooly shit, Lo. Thought I misread that one. I really thought we were about to have a problem for a second.”

Lokitty’s tail lashed back and forth as she sat up and yowled at me.

“Yeah, I know. Mouth’s gonna get me killed someday.”

She stretched up and head-bumped my chin and I scratched under her jaw as she purred comfortingly.

___________________________

It was two days later when I saw him again. “I was afraid you might be gone already.”

I looked up from washing out the skillet I’d been using. Antonio had come by for breakfast and some shop talk and had just left. “There’s a few pancakes left if you’re interested, Jack.”

He looked at the plate and back at me. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

“What for?”

“I scared you. I didn’t mean to.” His eyes were tired and red, dark circles under them that made me wonder if he slept since I’d last seen him.

“You had a reaction to something I said. It upset you. You didn’t act on it, though.”

“But, you thought I might.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Because I’m unstable.”

“Because you’re someone I don’t know well. Girl can’t be too careful.”

“I guess there’s that, too.” He looked embarrassed, like he hadn’t thought of that. Like he hadn’t considered my nervousness was more existential than personal.

I pulled the syrup and peanut butter out again and pushed the plate of pancakes across the table toward him. “C’mon, Jack. You look like you haven’t eaten or slept since I saw you last.” I poured us each a cup of coffee and sat across the from the plate. “Come eat, and then you can talk to me about whatever is eating at you.”

It took him a minute, but he eventually settled at the table, and once food crossed his lips it was like he realized his body had needs and he fell to it with a supersoldier gusto that was achingly familiar.

I think he saw something in my expression, and looked embarrassed, making his next bite smaller. “Sorry.”

I shook my head and smiled at him. “Don’t be. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone tuck into my cooking like that. Like a super soldier back from a mission. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

“You cooked for them?”

“I was a chef in a past life.”

“That’s not all, though, is it?”

“No.” I took another sip of my coffee. “Not all.”

He looked down at his plate. “You defended him. Defended me, and you don’t even know me.”

“I did. And, I don’t need to know you to know what they did changed you. You were a kid, Jack. It wasn’t your fault.”

He looked at me skeptically, but his expression changed as he watched my face. By the time he spoke again, his eyes looked hungry. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Fuck. I could only imagine how little genuine kindness or understanding he’d experienced in his life. My heart went out to him, but I knew I needed to keep him at arm’s length. Last thing I needed was a(nother?) mentally unstable supersoldier imprinting on me like a damn duckling. “I do. I don’t know what kind of person you are, Jack, but I don’t need the details to know what they did to you was wrong. All I really need to know for this project is that you want to help others.”

He nodded. “I want to help you.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You still have my card, right?”

He nodded.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow. Email me and I will get you in the Rolodex.” He finished eating and left.

The next morning, Antonio came by early and we had another quick discussion over breakfast before saying our goodbyes. I had just finished loading up when Jack motored right up to the campsite. “Morning, Jack, come to say goodbye?”

“I’m coming with you.”

Dammit. “Excuse me?” I opened the driver door.

“I want to help you.”

“Yeah, I heard you yesterday. I’ve got you on file.” I said, climbing into the driver’s seat.

He caught the door as I tried to close it. “No. Not the project. You. I want to help you , Sarah.”

Fucking hell. “I don’t need a bodyguard, Jack. My lack of intimidation factor is something I’d like to keep.”

“Then, I’ll hang back when you need me to. But, you should have someone besides a cat to watch your back.”

Lo growled at him as she hopped up into the van between us and over my lap to her usual place in the passenger seat, her tail lashing angrily.

I felt my jaw set. “Back off, Jack. You don’t know me like that,” I said flatly, my hand moving slowly between my seat and the console. “Don’t confuse my kindness for trust.”

He saw the movement and took a step back like I’d physically shoved him and I closed the door between us, locking it and putting my keys in the ignition. “Look,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, “I don’t know what I’m trying to do here. I just…” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “I need to do something. I don’t have a purpose anymore, and everything I’ve ever tried since then, I’ve failed.”  He met my eyes with something bordering on desperation. “But, you, you’re doing something important. Something worthwhile, that you’re succeeding at. And, I want to be a part of it.” 

“I can’t stop you from trying to follow me. But, I’m gonna make myself crystal clear, Jack.” My eyes and voice went hard. “This is my operation and I’ve been doing it well up until now. I meet with dangerous people daily. I’m not a reckless person by nature, but I take a lot of calculated risks that you will not like. If I want your opinion on my tactics, I’ll ask for it, and if I tell you to fuck off-”

He lowered his hands. “If there’s one single thing I know how to do, it’s follow orders.”

“Fine. I’m heading for the border today. Got one stop to make on the way, and cross over in the morning.” I cranked the engine and pulled out of the campsite. A few minutes later, I was on the highway and looked in the rearview to see him behind us, duster whipping behind him in all its Renegade glory and I smirked. He had the wraparound sunglasses.

Lo was still angry, eyes on me and her tail still bushy and lashing across her seat. “Don’t worry about him, sweetie.” She huffed at me. “I know you’re really the one who has my back.” I reached over and scratched behind her ear and it took a moment, but she relaxed and leaned into my touch. “That’s my buddy.” She did a circle and curled up in her seat for a nap after that, apparently appeased.

______________________

Two days later, we were driving out of Monterey City, Mexico and I was grinning ear to ear at the news reports coming through on the radio. Apparently an ICE facility had experienced a mass escape the night before, whatever had happened had all but leveled the facility. Very few had been re-captured and none of them were children. “Well done, Antonio.”

That night, we camped in the desert and I cooked a whole chicken I had purchased in the city while Lo weaved constant figure eights around and through my legs and Jack watched us with something that was very nearly a smile. “You two seem pretty happy this evening.”

I gave him a mischievous grin as I sat on my camp chair by the fire. “It was a good day.”

“Yeah? Your little border meeting paid off.”

My grin got wider. “In spades, my dude. Could not have asked for better.”

“Why that though?”

I shrugged, “What can I say?” I gave him a little smirk. “I hate bullies.”

Lo trilled at me. “Yes, dear. But I can’t make it cook faster.” She meowed. 

I waved my beer at her, neck held between my index and middle fingers and took a swig. “Fine, that was a lie,” I didn’t drink since I’d been on the road aside from the occasional beer, and hadn’t even had that since my last night in Milwaukee. I had treated myself to a six pack I was sharing with Jack. She huffed at me. “But it won't be as good,” I said reasonably. 

She reached up and stretched her full length up my body to rest her front paws on my chest and rub her head under my chin. “You’re welcome, sweetie, now let me cook.” She flopped exactly halfway between Jack and I.

He looked down at her and her ear flicked. “She doesn’t like me, does she?”

“She doesn’t,” I said truthfully. “To be fair, you’ve got a ton of ‘fuck everyone’ energy to work through, and Lo is protective.” She gave me a slow blink.

“Not everyone,” he mumbled into his beer. 

I pretended not to hear, pushing coals around the dutch oven, and Lo ignored him. Keep the wall up, you fucking bleeding heart. If he gets attached it won’t be because of you. You’re not his therapist, not even his friend. You’ve known him less than a week.

The next day, I caught a kid pickpocketing Jack in a town market. I handed him back his wallet and kept walking while the kid ran off with a $20 bill I palmed him.

That evening we were finishing dinner, and I saw the kid again. With several friends. Clubs and knives, and maybe a gun at hand. “Friends, we don’t want trouble.” I said in Spanish. “You got one handout from me today. Don’t get greedy.” I uncrossed my legs where I sat in the open side door of the van.

“Then get generous, gorda.” One of them said with a sneer.

I felt the tension coming off Jack, standing up nearby and drawing the attention of several of them as I reached beside me. 

My hand wrapped around the crow bar I had tucked under the bed. “Walk away, kids. This isn’t how you want your night to end.” Lo came out from under the van, growling, back arched and every hair on her body standing on end.

“Take your own advice, gorda.” One of them stepped forward, brandishing a bat.

Lo let out a hiss so loud and vicious it sounded like the air brakes on a semi. It startled a couple of them so bad one of them drew a gun from his waistband. It was the kid from this morning. I held up a hand and Jack paused. “Jack, don’t kill anyone. They’ve got one gun between them.”

“No promises,” he said flatly.

“They’re kids, Jack. You kill anyone, you can head back across the border alone.” I said, steel in my voice.

He almost looked hurt. “Fine.” 

I looked back at the older teen still approaching me. “Look, if you’re gonna try to intimidate me through insult, you’re gonna have to do better than ‘fatty’.” I stood, rolling my wrist to brandish the crow bar. “You think you can step up, do it, jefe, but don’t waste my fucking time.”

He didn’t. He came at me swinging his club in a haymaker you could see from the moon. I stepped up and turned into it, grabbing his wrist and flinging him around in a textbook shoulder throw that knocked the air out of him in a whoosh as I let him land flat on his back, stripping the club from him and tossing it on the fire. “Go home, muchacho, before I take you over my knee like your mother should have done more often.” I heard movement behind me and turned, ducking and swinging with the crowbar at waist level, getting a satisfying grunt as I connected with another young man trying to grab me from behind. I brought a knee up to strike his butt as he stumbled to lay him out on top of his friend who had just started finding his feet.

Jack had gone to work at the same time, and I looked up to see three other kids laid out in varying states of discomfort. I looked over at the one still standing. 

It was the kid from the morning. I pointed at him, and he raised the gun at me. “This was your fault.” I walked calmly toward him as the gun shook in his hands. “I did you a favor this morning, jovencito. I could have hurt you, turned you in, but I did you a favor instead and made sure you didn’t go back empty handed.” I could see the gun shake in his hands. “Don’t be dumb twice in one day.” I was close enough and as he raised the gun more I pivoted and brought the crowbar across his wrist as it went off, shattering the quiet of the night. He yelped and dropped the gun as I came back with an elbow into his nose. He staggered backward and looked up at me, blood pouring from his nose, cradling his wrist. “Collect your brothers, and next time, take a kindness offered and leave it at that, son.”

They ran. I tossed the crowbar in the van. Lo hopped in and I closed the door behind her. I glanced at Jack who was grabbing the gun off the ground as I doused the fire and went around to open the driver’s door. “Time to get scarce, bud. I don’t wanna know who’s coming next.”

I didn’t wait to see if he was following as I climbed in and cranked the engine. But I heard his bike behind me as I drove off into the night.

Chapter Text

A couple of hours later, weaving over backroads, I pulled off again. It was nearing midnight and I was tired. Lokitty had been sitting on the console the entire time, keeping me aware with trills and worriedly rubbing the top of her head against my shoulder despite my reassurances. I threw the van in park and turned to her, burying both hands in her ruff and scratching deep against her neck, pressing a kiss to her head. “Nobody even touched me, Lo. I’m okay, buddy. I promise.”

I got out carefully, hip and knee wanting to give with a shooting pain as I slipped to the ground, leaving the door open for Lo. Jack pulled up between the van and the road and dismounted. The grunt and flinch were almost invisible, but I was used to people who knew how to hide pain. “Jack?”

He looked over his shoulder at me. “I’m fine.”

I was tired, and I didn’t have time to ease into it. “Where’d you get hit?” 

He just turned and looked at me. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a shit liar, Jack,” I spat without pretense. “I’m not interested in watching you suffer.” He looked like I’d slapped him. I walked around and opened the side door. “Get over here,” I ordered.

A minute later he came around the back of the van. He was limping and still trying to hide it. But, in the light cast from the van I could see the dark sheen of blood between the flaps of his duster. “Goddammit, Jack.”

He nodded, chastised.

“Drop your pants and sit,” I ordered.

He startled, and I gave him a look. His eyes went hard with something like defiance as his hands went to his belt and I ignored him, pointedly, turning back to the van. 

I reached under the passenger seat, pulling out my med kit. He took off his duster and sat next to me in his underwear and black tee as I looked through the kit. Jack was a briefs guy, I guess. 

“You caught the ricochet?!” The bullet had hit him mid inner thigh. Much higher or deeper and I’m pretty sure it would have knicked his femoral artery. “How the hell did you manage that?” I asked incredulously.

He looked embarrassed.

I pulled on a pair of sterile gloves. “How’s your healing factor, Jack?”

“What?”

“I’ve never met a serum enhanced person who didn’t have some level of healing factor. How quick do I need to get this bullet out before it’s there forever, or I have to cut it out?”

“A few hours.”

I sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ve always been a rip the bandage off kinda gal anyway.” I dug around for a pair of forceps and a flashlight and then settled between his knees. “Ok…” I looked up at him. “You okay with this, Jack?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I mean, you can keep it, but I imagine you’d rather just have the scar to remember tonight by.” I gave him the flashlight.

“Just do it.”

I palpated around the bullet wound as I cleaned it, drawing the occasional hiss or gasp as the bullet shifted in the muscle and I got the wound washed with saline and then antiseptic. “Do you hate me yet, Jack?”

“What? No? Why would -” his words choked and cut off with a scream as I jammed the forceps into the wound, grabbed the bullet, wrenched it a quarter turn to loosen it and yanked it out as hard as I could. “ FUCK !” He screamed loud enough I almost couldn’t hear the stomach turning, sucking pop of it coming out.

“Well, you probably do now.” I was already flushing the wound again. “Sorry, Jack. Didn’t think you’d want me to go slow.” I pressed a thick gauze dressing to the wound to staunch the bleeding I’d restarted.

“I didn’t think so either, but” he panted. “ Fucking hell …”

“Hold this.”

“Huh?”

I took his hand not holding the light and pressed it to the pad. “Put pressure on it.” He did and I stripped my gloves. Then, I climbed up past him into the van and grabbed one of the remaining beers, popping it and handing it to him. He didn’t react right away, so I touched the cool bottle to his cheek and he flinched before looking back at me and taking it. “I know it won’t help, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

He took a swig while I dug around in the cooler behind him.

A few minutes later I was stepping out again and deposited a plate beside him that held an absolute Dagwood of a sandwich, piled high with whatever lunchmeat and cheeses I had left.

“What’s this for?”

“You, silly. You’re gonna need some extra fuel to heal this up. And I know you didn’t eat enough today.”

He gave me that look again, like I had knowledge I shouldn’t. I smirked up at him. “You’re not the first supersoldier I’ve fed, remember?” I handed him some wipes for his hands, put on new gloves, and knelt between his legs again moving his hand from the dressing. “Clean up your hands and eat while I get this dressed, Jack.”

He opened the package of wipes and started on his hands while I peeked under the compress. The wound was still oozing, but not bleeding freely. I held it a few more minutes, hands firmly pressing into the hard muscle of his thigh. I could see why he had been a Bucky candidate. Jack was a bit shorter, but they had a similar build, thick through the thighs and shoulders. Or, at least he should have been judging by his frame, but he was lean and sinewy, muscles hard and tense, like Bucky got when he got in a bad mental spiral. I glanced up at him as he set the cleansing wipes aside and took another sip of the beer, leaning back on his elbows, the tee shirt stretching over his broad chest and as he tipped his head back to drink it felt like my whole chest constricted and I hurriedly looked back down to check the bleeding again.

He must have sensed something because he sat up again and looked down at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The bleeding had very nearly stopped, so I pulled the gauze away and grabbed a few wipes to clean around it gently, feeling his eyes on me.

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll heal up fine now.”

“Just eat your sandwich, Jack.” It sounded surly, and I wasn’t sure if I felt that way because of adrenaline comedown or if I was taken off guard by the twist of loneliness that felt like a knot in my gut.

I turned and reached over his other leg to grab the dressing and gauze to wrap it tight. I felt his breath hitch as I leaned against his thigh to reach. He grabbed it for me and handed it to me and I looked up at him. He had a cleft, rather than a dimple to his chin, and his eyes were a warm brown rather than Bucky’s steely blue, but there was something to the slightly wide set of his mouth and full lips, the line of his brow and the cut of his jaw that made me think of Bucky again, like they could be cousins.

He must have seen something in my expression. “You sure you’re okay? Not everybody is cut out to be a field medic.”

I took the dressing and pressed it to the wound. “Hold it,” I instructed. “I’m fine, Jack.” I took the roll of gauze and started wrapping it around his thigh. He moved his hand once I had the dressing secure, but not far, resting it tensely on his thigh. I finished wrapping it tightly and moved to get up without bracing myself. My leg betrayed me halfway and I staggered against him, catching myself with my palms on his broad shoulders.

He instinctively raised his free hand to steady me, grabbing my hip, looking up at my face. His hair was lighter in color and thicker, but it had that same wave and looked so soft. I had an intrusive thought about running my fingers through it as I felt the firmness of his grip on my hips and the warmth of his hand, contrasting the cool desert evening. “Sarah?”

I blinked and took a step back shaking my head. “I’m fine. Sorry, Jack, wasn’t trying to put the moves on you or anything, my leg just gave out on me.” Get it the fuck together.

“Did you get hurt?” His brow only furrowed in further worry.

“No, just an old injury that likes to give me trouble at inopportune times. Just don’t ask me to run or do squats and I’ll be fine.” I gathered up the bloody gauze and pads and cleared a small area of ground before hitting it with some lighter fluid and setting it ablaze.

When I turned he still looked concerned, but also curious. “There’s a lot of ways blood can be useful. Especially blood like yours. Better to not leave it behind.”

I climbed into the van again and handed him a pair of shorts. “You can wear these tonight. We’ll probably be able to take the dressing off in the morning. I’ll get your jeans clean and patch them in the morning.”

“Thanks.” He was giving me that look again, like he’d found something he never expected.

I looked away quickly. “Eat, Jack.” Sometime while I pulled the cooler over to the doorway and set a bucket under the drain valve with his pants and some soap he finally started eating.

He finished sometime around when I had gotten as much blood out of his black jeans as I was going to on the side of the road and was laying them across the hood of the van to dry. I used the wash water to put out the remaining embers of fire. When I turned, he was standing again wearing the gray shorts. “Thanks, I didn’t even realize I was hungry.”

“You seem to just be used to being hangry all the time.”

“Hangry?”

“Angry hungry. Do you not realize you need something like 10,000 calories a day to be in peak form?”

“What?”

“Dude, are you serious?” I rested my hands on my hips. “Did the damn government just not tell you how to properly care for the body they forced you into?!”

“I guess not?” He looked both taken aback and also a little salty about it. “Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize if you really didn’t know, but shit, sug. ” I ran a hand over my face. “Jesus Christ… Is with me the only time you’ve been eating the last several days?” 

He looked away.

“Fuck, dude! I thought you were grabbing street tacos when we pulled off for gas or something, but I’ve just been starving you for days?! No wonder your reaction time is sluggish and you’re so damn grumpy.”

“It’s the same amount I normally eat.”

“That just means your body is used to starving. That’s not okay, bud. Cap eats a solid six meals a day, and that doesn’t count smoothies and protein shakes, just to get the 10 thousand calories he needs , 12 if he’s training hard, sometimes close to 15 if he’s recovering. Bucky isn’t far behind, between 7 and 10,000. I imagine you fall somewhere in between.”

“No way they eat that much.”

“Do you feel better after that sandwich?”

He stopped for a second, looking thoughtful. “I do feel less tired, I guess.”

I gave him a look that just said, ‘see?’.

“Who has time to eat that much?”

“Well, you’re going to. But, we’ll have to work up to it. Teach you how to listen to your body.”

“What? You’re a dietician, too?”

I smirked. “Cooking for the Avengers is an excellent excuse to pick up some knowledge of sports nutrition. If you’re gonna be in this with me, then we need you in the best fighting fit possible.”

He blinked. “I am fit.”

I shook my head. “Sure, you’re stronger than the average person. But your frame and muscle tone say you’re underweight. I’d guess a solid 30 pounds of supersoldier muscle. I’m guessing you’re dehydrated, too, given how much you didn’t bleed.”

He looked bewildered. “Sorry for not bleeding more?” He ran his hand through his hair. “Why are you doing this?”

“We gotta get you back in good condition.”

“You don’t need to go to any trouble for me.”

“You’re the one that’s gonna do it, Jack. I can’t make you, just advise you along the way.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll handle whatever you need me to.”

“Jack. You literally took a bullet tonight. Only bullet in the whole altercation and it wasn’t even aimed at anyone. And I’m guessing you’re kicking yourself over it because we both know that’s a mistake you’re trained better than to make. I’d put cash money on your snap decision making and your reflexes both being to blame because you’ve been starving your body and brain so long.”

His face fell. He just looked defeated.

I walked back toward him and the van. “You wanted this team, all determined to follow me on this adventure. This is what teammates do. They take care of each other.” I patted him on the shoulder on my way past. “You’re gonna be okay, Jack.” I went back to the open door of the van, putting away the rest of the med kit and getting things ready to lock up for the night. I looked up from pushing the med kit back under the passenger seat to see him still watching me.

“Time for some shuteye, sug. Are you gonna be okay with just your bedroll tonight?”

He just looked at me, his eyes so lost, like he didn’t know what to do with someone asking about his well-being. 

My heart squeezed tight in my chest and I wanted to slap myself. Stop it. You touch starved dumbass. I climbed into the van and grabbed one of my pillows. I came back and he was already heading for his bike, having picked up his duster. “Here.” He turned and I tossed him the pillow. “Fold it and put it under your knee. It’s good to elevate a wound.” 

He looked at the pillow and then back at me again. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Sarah,” he said softly as he turned away.

I shut the van door, stamping down the flutter in my gut. He’s not Bucky, stupid, even if he reminds you of him. Goddammit woman, get your shit together. I put on sleep shorts and a tank and flopped beside Lo who was already curled up on the bed. She looked up and gave me a sleepy little “mmrp”. “Sorry, Lo.” I got settled and she got up and settled again on top of me, stretched the length of my torso, head rested on my bare chest. “You okay, sweetie?”

She nuzzled under my chin and settled again, purring.

“Okay.” I buried my hands in her warm fur and soon drifted off.

 Bucky, coming in the door of my suite in the mansion, fresh off a mission. I set my book aside as he pulled off his boots. Then he stopped. 

“Buck?” I got out of bed, padding into the living room. “What’s wrong, love?”

He was banged up, a cut above his temple and a blossoming shiner I could see across the room. He looked at me and his eyes were lost, and so tired.

I reached out, my fingers lightly touching his arm, not sure how present he was. He pulled me in close, burying his face against my neck.

I wrapped my arms around him. “Baby… What happened?”

He just squeezed me tighter. Sad. Frustrated. Scared. Exhausted.

I kissed the side of his neck, the only skin I could reach, fighting back my reaction to the ‘mission smell’. “Buck… talk to me.”

“Please…”

I ran my fingers through his hair and gently pulled his head back to look at me. “Do you need me to take care of my guy?”

I watched something behind his eyes relax. “Yes, ma’am…”

I caressed his face. “Thank you for telling me, love. So proud of you for asking when you need help.” His eyelids drooped a little. Relief. “Go to the bathroom, and get undressed.”

I went to the fridge and pulled out a sandwich. I had started keeping a few giant meaty sandwiches on hand just in case one of the boys had forgotten food is important and needed some quick calories. It was most often Buck who forgot about the needs of his body when he was in the field because of his conditioning, though Steve’s workaholic brain sometimes got the better of him, too. I put the foil wrapped sandwich in the toaster oven and went to the bathroom.

He was standing in the middle of the floor. He had only managed to drop his gear harness, and undo his belt. “Buck, did you get lost?” I asked firmly, with just a little tease.

He looked up at me, surprised I was there. His face fell. Frustration. Contrition. “I’m sorry, ma’am…”

“One thing at a time, Buck. I know you can follow my instructions. I’m going to get ready for a shower, too.” I walked past him to turn on the water and then shed my own clothes. By the time I turned to him again, he was nude. He was covered in bruises, I was pretty sure he had a couple of cracked ribs judging by the livid bruising on his side. It struck me then how tight he had hugged me to him and how much it had to have hurt, but he didn’t flinch. It told me better than words how far down he was and it broke my heart a little. 

I went to him and took his hand. “That’s my guy. I knew you could get it done. Now let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” I led him into the shower and washed him, lavishing love and kisses and praise on him, like my affection and words could wash his heart and mind like my hands washed his body, until he melted against me, sinking to the floor in tears, his face against my tummy as I petted and stroked him. “I’ve got you. Just let it all out for me, love.”

When he finally calmed again, I washed his hair, turned off the water and dried him. I put ointment on all his wounds and contusions and led him to bed. I tucked him in and asked if he could eat a little for me. He nodded and I went to the kitchen, getting the sandwich. I cut it in small pieces, just a couple of bites each, and filled a big water bottle.

I set them on the side table and crawled into bed, kissing his forehead and all over his face until he chuckled. “There’s my guy,” I said warmly and he blushed. “Are you going to be my best guy and eat for me?”

He gave me a little smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

I had him drink some water first, and I slowly fed him the warm sandwich, occasionally asking if he wanted more or if he was finished, but he ate the entire thing. I asked if he was still hungry and he actually thought for a moment before saying no, but that he wanted some more water. “Good job, Buck. You should be so proud of how much progress you’ve made at listening to your body and what it needs.” I let him drink, and then I took the dishes back to the kitchen and refilled the water bottle before taking it back to the bedroom. He drank a bit more before he said he was finished and I praised him again.

“You did so good, Buck, taking care of yourself, and I only had to help a little. Such a good job, I think you deserve a reward.” His eyes lit up like the sun coming slowly from behind a cloud. “Would you like that?”

He nodded, nuzzling at the bend of my neck.

“Tell me what my guy would like as a reward.”

“Want you, ma’am.”

“More specific, love.”

I could feel the curve of his lips against my skin. “Wanna taste you, ma’am. Please, want you to ride my face.”

I shivered a little at his breath on my neck and the need in his voice. “Then lay down for me, handsome.”

He squirmed down to lay flat on the bed.

“Now, I want,” I thought for a moment, “two orgasms. You think you can do that for me?”

He gave me that cocky grin that made my insides melt. “Yes ma’am.”

“But only two,” I added.

He frowned.

“If you can stop at two-,” I saw something flit across his face, and my eyes and voice went hard. “No edging.” He gave me a salty look for reading his mind. “If you can follow instructions, you’ll earn an orgasm for yourself. Think you can do that?”

He grinned, and it was my cocky, smartass Buck again. “Please, come sit on my face, ma’am.”

He wrapped his hands over my thighs, pulling my full weight onto him and ate me out like it was his very purpose in life, groaning and slurping obscenely in between my thighs. I came twice in under ten minutes and he let go after working me through the second, kissing along my folds and inner thighs. I was warm and hazy with pleasure, and looked down as I rose off him, running my fingers through his hair. 

He looked half fucked out, chin and pink lips glistening with my slick as he grinned up at me smugly. “Did I do good, ma’am?” he asked with pride, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, such a good job.” I ran my fingers through his hair again and his eyes fluttered shut. “James, you’re always so good to me.” He moaned like I’d squeezed his cock, and I smiled at how much mileage I got out of his praise kink. I moved off of him and then bent to kiss him thoroughly. “How do you wanna come, handsome?” I breathed against his lips. “Do you want my tits or my pussy?”

He groaned. I knew I’d given him the hardest choice possible, given his preferences. But, I wanted him to make a decision, take some agency. “Want your pussy, ma’am.”

“Sure, love.” I straddled and sunk down over him, the stretch of him filling me so achingly familiar I wanted to cry. I rode him, happy to focus on his pleasure over mine, bouncing and grinding the way he loved until he writhed and moaned under me, his thighs trembling for how close he was. I leaned down, nuzzling his neck. “My Bucky. All mine and so good for me. Always fill me up just right, love. Come for me, James.”

His hands flew to my hips and he drove himself up into me hard and I groaned against his mouth as he chased his pleasure, his thrusts quickly losing rhythm and his body spasming with a guttural moan that made me clench around him and he cried out my name, hips bucking under me again as I rode him through it.

“Mmm… So, so good for me,” I purred against his lips and he chuckled, coming back to himself. “How are you doing, love?”

He wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling into my neck. “Better. God, I love you so fucking much.” He held me there, not even wanting to separate or get cleaned up, just flipping the blanket over us. His fingers grazed idly along my arms and up and down my back until I fell asleep wrapped in his warmth.

The next morning I woke to Lo’s warm weight still stretched out on top of me. “Mornin, Lo. Maybe I should let you sleep on top of me more often.” She purred. “I can barely remember the last time I had a dream about a good memory.”

Chapter Text

I pulled out the campstove in the morning and rummaged through the cooler. Not a tremendous number of options, we needed to hit a market so I could properly shop for feeding a super metabolism again. I had a few eggs and a bit of chorizo and I found a couple of potatoes to throw in. I took out a reasonable portion for myself and Lo, then pushed the rest of the pan to Jack with some tortillas.

“That’s so much food… I’m supposed to eat all that?” It was honestly half what I would feed Steve. I was starting him slow.

“Don’t think about it in normal people terms. You’re enhanced. Technically, you should be eating for about three people.”

“You make it sound like I’m pregnant.”

I chuckled. “But, today I’ll settle for one and a half. We’re working you up, remember?”

He filled a tortilla. “Cap would really eat this much?”

“Steve would finish that and ask where the rest was hiding. Six eggs, a half pound of bacon, and about eight pancakes is a light breakfast for him. He’ll usually hit some fruit and a protein smoothie after that. You don’t have to eat it all, Jack. Remember, this is a practice in listening to your body’s cues about what it needs. But, this time, I would like you to eat until you feel full, rather than until you aren’t hungry anymore.” 

He still looked a little skeptical.

“Jack, how did they feed you when you were in the program? When they would take you out of cryo?”

“This thick, awful drink. Or these bars that taste like sawdust and make your jaw tired.”

I nodded, frowning. “HYDRA fed Bucky on that shit, too, and I know they’d even send Steve into the field with those bars for emergency rations, since otherwise he’d need about eight MREs a day. The nutrition slurries and bars have so many calories packed in that you don’t need to eat as much as you would normal food. But, they don’t bother to add anything that would make it taste reasonable, either. That would be inefficient.”

“So, I was eating that many calories the whole time, but my… appetite didn’t know?”

“Exactly.” I remembered what Bucky had told me in the letter he left me. My brain was so broken I couldn’t even understand why someone was bringing me real food and not a nutrition slurry or protein bar, or why you would try to talk to me at all.  “Your satiety signals are all off because you’ve been on soylent forever.” I shuddered. “I’ve read the formulas for those slurries and bars. I can’t believe they make humans eat that. It’s cruel.”

“It certainly wasn’t good,” he finally agreed between bites. After a while, and about half of his food, he spoke again. “So, if he was fed the same way I was, did you do this for Bucky, too?”

“Bucky’s situation was different. He was still pretty deep in the programming when I first met him in the Tower. I didn’t know everything I know now about the Winter Soldier program, obviously. I just took him meals that were proportional to what Cap would eat, and he ate it because that’s what was put in front of him, so he was never malnourished. But, he did bulk up some when he started eating proper food, I assume because HYDRA only ever fed him the bare minimum for maintenance.” 

It made me think about the first time I’d met him.  

Steve asked me to deliver lunch to holding. He’d been trying for days to get Bucky to talk to him and nothing was working. He hadn’t been eating either, according to Steve. I’d always remember those eyes, pale gray ice and steel, too far away to see the blue in them through a curtain of unwashed, unkempt hair. The way he just stood in the center of the holding cell, hands flexing, every line of his body tight, staring at Steve through the clear barrier. Rage was the only word that came to mind. And then maybe Fear. Steve looked Frustrated. Angry. So Worried it bordered on fear.

“Captain Rogers,” I requested gently, “can I ask you to sit down, please?” He looked at me, seeming to have just noticed me enter the room. The Winter Soldier’s eyes had flicked to me the second I came in. “I think you might be feeding off each other’s energy right now.” He frowned at me. “I brought lunch for you both, since I know you haven’t eaten yet either.”

I got Steve to pull up a chair and a small table from nearby and set his lunch tray on it. A huge bowl of hearty beef stew, several warm, crusty honey wheat rolls with plenty of butter, and a giant piece of warm apple pie with a bowl of vanilla ice cream. “This looks amazing, Cookie.”

“Thanks, Cap. Enjoy.”

I turned to the man in the holding cell. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes,” I said warmly, introducing myself politely. “I brought you some lunch. Captain Rogers said you haven’t eaten much since you’ve been here.” I set his identical tray on the platform of the pass through. “I bet it’s pretty uncomfortable for you, being here. I probably wouldn’t feel much like eating either, not knowing who or what to trust. After everything I’m sure you’ve been through I can only imagine how you must feel being locked up like this.” I glanced up at him, coincidently through a fist-sized, spiderwebbed dent in the strange, plexiglass-like material of the barrier. “I bet I’d be angry and frustrated. Maybe even scared.” I shifted so he had a good view of me. “I want you to know you’re safe here, and my food is always going to be safe for you to eat.” I proceeded to take a couple of bites of everything on his tray before pushing it through the pass through and flipping the switch to open it on his side. I knew when he could smell it, his nostrils twitched and his throat bobbed. I gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you two eat. Steve, could you send Chuck back to the Commons kitchen with the dishes when you’re done?”

When Chuck trundled into the kitchen, both trays were full of empty dishes, and there was a thank you note with a little drawing of a slice of apple pie a la mode in the corner from Steve. That night I got a request from him wondering if I could deliver all Bucky Barnes’ meals.

“Sarah?”

“Sorry, I was just remembering something. Anyway, as Bucky got further in his recovery, sometimes he would have trouble with satiety signals, or remembering to eat on mission, or anxiety would make it hard for him to keep food down, and I’d help him readjust.”

“It sounds like you were close with him.”

“I am,” I smiled. “He’s my best friend.”

“I thought Steve Rogers was his best friend.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, “but he can still be mine.” 

Jack ate most of what I’d given him, and Lo finished it off greedily.

We took the next few days heading south at a leisurely pace. I did a little sightseeing and made a few connections, thankfully with no further incidents involving the local color. Jack continued healing from his injury at a supersoldier pace, and I could already see some subtle improvements in his mood and bearing. He was a little more talkative, and seemed more casually alert than paranoid, and his appetite was already improving. Supersoldier resilience at its best. I’d picked up a new guitar secondhand in Monterey City to replace the one I gave up with the old van setup and went back to practicing in the evenings. Usually with Lo curled against my thigh using my knee as a pillow and Jack watching the fire die.

Tonight, we had found ourselves in a small town holding a street party. I’d stopped to visit the market early in the day and spread around enough money that a few of the vendors told me that we should join in the festivities of the evening. 

I made the rounds and complimented every matriarch’s cooking, and they complimented me on my “big, strong and very handsome husband” which made me chuckle. If they only knew… But, I let the cover stand and they made many a ribald comment about how rough he looked, the amount of food I had bought earlier in the day, my slight limp, and how all that must translate to his prowess and stamina, thinking I didn’t get what they were saying, but I had supplemented my conversational Spanish in many a kitchen and knew more far more filth than the average tourist. 

“Is that what I’ve been doing wrong?” I laughed as I spoke Spanish back to the cluster of grandmothers. “I was starting to think I should put him on the street corner just to give my poor pussy a break. Maybe I should starve him instead so he will stop trying to split me in half all day!” They all looked at me shocked and then cackled, offering me a shot of their tequila “to build up my own stamina”.

“What was that all about?” Jack asked as I came back to him, handing him a beer. 

“Just old ladies living vicariously,” I chuckled. “I’m gonna go dance.”

I danced with the children until I had to sit down. I watched one of the grandmothers weaving flowers into a girl’s hair and I thought about movie nights with Nat or Wanda, Bucky or even Thor sitting between my knees while I played in their hair.

“What are you remembering?” Jack asked as he sat beside me with a plate full of tamales and empanadas and handed me another beer. I looked past him at the old ladies refilling the food after the way they loaded him up with an expression of playful shock and betrayal and they all cackled maniacally like a bunch of crones.

I shook my head, grinning. “Just that I miss doing that.”

“Putting flowers in someone’s hair?”

“Time spent with my people. I miss the casual intimacies of friendship and family. One of my favorites is playing with someone’s hair.” I got up again and went back to dancing, unwilling to sit with the feelings bubbling up inside me when I had no outlet.

I let myself get swept up in the festivities, swaying to the music. I danced with children, groups of young women, and flirtatious old men who made me laugh, telling me I “could never be happy with a man who won’t dance with his woman proudly” until I could feel my leg threatening to give out. 

I finally signaled Jack that I was heading back to the van and he caught up with me a couple of minutes later. “You didn’t have to come, I was just letting you know I was leaving.”

“Nah, the grandmas were starting to make me uncomfortable.” I chuckled. “You okay?” He looked down at my limp. “That injury you told me about?”

“Yeah, maybe I was a little overzealous tonight.” I tripped on the uneven pavement, and my leg spasmed as I tried to catch myself with a pained sound. 

Jack caught my elbow to steady me. “Whoa. I gotcha. You sure you’re okay to walk back?”

“Leg is just unsteady right now. Wouldn’t be the first time in the last few years I faceplanted once or twice while sober.”

“Or, I could help.” He looked so uncomfortable, looking anywhere but my face. “Y’know, part of the team.”

“Okay.” Something warm sparked in my chest and I looped my left hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Sure,” he grunted, but as we turned to walk again, he pulled himself up just a little straighter, and I could see the smallest thing that someone could actually call a smile.

I didn’t have to lean on him too hard, but it felt so nice to just be in contact, feeling the sturdy muscle of his arm and the warmth of him radiating through the coat. He was already running warmer, thanks to a better diet. “Jack?”

He made a little sound like he was listening.

“Do you often feel cold? Is that why you never seem to overheat with this heavy coat on?” 

He thought for a minute. “Actually, yeah. Why? Is that another food thing?”

“Kind of, but that’s not why I asked. Every serum enhanced person I’ve met, Erskine’s formula or not, runs hot. But you haven’t been, you feel like the average person. But tonight I can feel the heat coming off you, even through your coat.” 

He flushed. “Sorry.”

I chuckled. “Nothing to feel sorry for, sug. I just wanted to check in. See how you were feeling since it’s been a few days now.”

He thought for a minute. “Good, actually. Better than I can remember.”

“That’s good to hear. Means we’re on the right track.” I patted his bicep with my other hand. “Thanks for trusting me.”

We walked the rest of the way back to the van in companionable quiet.

Lo greeted us at the van, jumping gracefully down from the roof and shouldering between Jack and I to rub herself against my left leg. “Yes, Lo, my leg started acting up on me. Don’t be rude, he was helping me.”

She just meowed at me and shouldered her way around me again to look up and give him airplane ears.

“Damn, she really hates me.”

I chuckled. “I think she’s jealous that she can’t be the only one to take care of me.”

He gave me a look. “She’s a cat.”

I cocked a brow at him. “You’ve known Lokitty for a solid week. You try and tell me that’s a normal ass cat, and I’m gonna tell you to have your eyes checked.” She looked up from between my legs and trilled at me, making me laugh before she padded over to the van and sat down.

“You think she’s what then? An enhanced cat?”

I shrugged. “It’s possible. If the military could try to weaponize dolphins and pigeons and the CIA try to make cyborg cat spies, they could certainly have created any number of enhanced animals over the last several decades. I’m sure there was animal testing on the serum before people, too.”

He gave me a shrug of acquiescence. “Fair enough.”

“Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out someday she isn’t even really a cat. Maybe she’s an alien that our brains just interpret as cat.”

She looked back at me and yowled angrily, and I laughed again. “See?” 

“She’s just impatient to be let in.”

“That’s not her ‘let me in’ yowl.”

He gave me another look. “Then what yowl is it?”

“That’s her ‘keep my name out your damn mouth’ yowl.”

She lashed her tail and meowed again.

“That’s her ‘let me in’.”

He gave a grunt that almost sounded amused. “Yeah, okay.” He said, walking me the last few steps to the van and took the keys from my hand, opening it for me.

“Door service? How very gentlemanly of you, Mr. Monroe.”

“Well, if I’m competing with a cat as ‘most valued teammate’, I should make use of my advantages.” He handed the keys back to me. With a smirk! “Like opposable thumbs,” he said waving them at Lo. She gave him an imperious look before jumping in.

I couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of me. “Trust me, you both bring key skills to the party.” I patted his arm reassuringly before pulling away. “Goodnight, Jack.”

“G’night, Sarah.”

Soon I was in my pajamas, and turned to where Lo sat on the bed, watching me indignantly.

“Lo. You're being unreasonable. I am allowed to interact with other people. Even rely on them a little sometimes.” I started stretching out my leg with a groan. “I kinda need to.”

She lashed her tail at me. 

“Stop it. I can also build other relationships, of any type, while romantically involved. It’s a whole thing we poly people kinda take pride in.”

She gave me airplane ears.

“Oh, now you’re being ridiculous.” I ticked off names on my fingers, “Clint, Thor, even Loki. I am fully capable of being emotionally available to people, having close friends who are physically attractive people, without it getting twisted. I can even be physically available, hello Nat, Hulk and Bruce , all without overly complex romantic entanglement.”

Lo went perfectly still.

“Yeah, well, neither of them are here, are they?” I flopped on the bed. “None of them are.”

Just the tip of her tail twitched.

“I’m not an idiot. He was groomed for it, for fuck sake, of course I see it.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “Look, Lo,” I turned to her, speaking as quietly as possible. “It isn’t Jack’s fault he reminds me of early Bucky, and that isn’t a reason to deny him friendship.” I offered her a hand. “I promise I will stay mindful, okay?”

She stared at me for a long moment and then rubbed her head into my hand.

I settled in for the night and she stretched out along my bare left leg, so long her butt was at my mid calf, her head resting on top of my hip looking up at me with her big green eyes as she curled her tail around my feet. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, sweetie. But you also have to trust me.” I scratched behind her ear, and she gave me a slow blink. I smiled. “Love you, too, Lo.”

I dreamed a memory again that night. 

Loki sat on the bench beside me as I picked lazily at the guitar. We were on our second bottle of wine, and I’m pretty sure he had already pre-gamed one before I had gotten home from the main building. I knew better than to try to keep up with an Asgardian, going one for his three or four, but we were both pleasantly buzzed. He started humming along as he watched the fire. I softly sang the next lines of one of the songs he’d taught me.

Når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

Når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

Og synger: "når kommer du hjem?"

He joined me in the last few lines and we grinned at each other.

Men trærne danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

Men trærne danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

Når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

“My idiot brother is going to be shocked when he visits and finds you singing Asgardian eddas in the kitchen,” he said.

“Never eddas in the kitchen,” I teased. “Only debauched drinking songs.” I picked out and sang a few lines of one I’d come across about Thor saving a milkmaid from an ogre. Lots of hammer puns.

“Oh, by all the gods,” he groaned, “please not that one…”

I laughed and shifted to another about a time Loki had disguised himself as a mare.

“Are you trying to torment me tonight, nisse?” he growled as I shifted to another about him and Thor cross-dressing to trick a giant.

I chuckled. “It isn’t my fault most of the ones solely about you aren’t intended to be very complimentary. I always kind of admired your fluidity in the stories, personally. Sometimes I wondered if anything interesting ever happened in Asgard if you weren’t around.” He gave me a look, and I picked out a few bars of something different. “I do genuinely like the one where you roast the rest of the pantheon at that dinner party, though.” I smirked. “There’s some excellent burns and one-liners in there.”

He grinned. “That was a very good night.” We joked and laughed a while after that before falling into a companionable quiet. The fire was dying to embers when I heard him singing softly again, sweet and melancholy.

Så tag mit hjerte i dine hænder,

men tag det varsomt og tag det blidt,

det røde hjerte – nu er det dit.

Det slår så rolig, det slår så dæmpet,

for det har elsket, og det har lidt,

nu er det stille – nu er det dit.

I looked over at him, and there was something soft and sad in his green eyes I didn’t know how to interpret, like he actually meant the words. It felt too big, too vulnerable. For him, for the moment.

Og det kan såres, og det kan segne,

og det kan glemme og glemme tit,

men glemmer aldrig, at det er dit

Det var så stærkt og så stolt, mit hjerte,

det sov og drømte i lyst og leg,

nu kan det knuses – men kun af dig.

nu kan det knuses – men kun af dig.

He reached out at the last few words and tentatively touched my hand on the neck of the guitar, the barest brush of cool fingertips on the back of my hand. I flinched, fully jumped at his touch and his hand recoiled. Despite all the casual evenings and heartfelt talks we’d had, I had assiduously avoided physical contact, keeping clear of that last type of connection with him. It was the first time in the months we’d known each other, since the night we met, that he’d attempted to physically touch me, and I was wholly unprepared for the intensity of what I felt. Both in my own body, and from him.

“Nisse? I- I’m sorry,” he looked at me like my reaction truly had broken his heart. “I didn’t think you-” 

I got up quickly and he jumped to his feet as well. “Wait. Please.” All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears and my breath heaving. He reached out toward me again, long fingers outstretched in a plea. “Please...”

Reaching for me. Cold hands. A cold, long-fingered hand closing around my throat, around my wrist.

I ran. I ran to my room and fell back against the door, my world nothing but chaos and the narrowing tunnel of impending oblivion, cold fingers squeezing the air from me.

I fought it back. I ground my palm against my sternum and counted my breaths until the terror receded. I don’t know how long it took, but when I felt like I could control myself again, I opened the door.

He was there. Sitting in the floor of the hall, leaning against the opposite wall. He looked up at me dejectedly. “I’m so sorry, little nisse …”

I leaned in the doorway looking down at him. “I know, Loki.”

“If I had known, I never- ” His voice was quiet, wavering. “I didn’t think you would still be so fearful of me…”

I leaned against the doorframe with a sigh. “Neither did I. I generally don’t feel afraid of you. Wary certainly.” He looked like I’d struck him, and I quirked an eyebrow down at him. “You really gonna tell me not to be wary of trickster gods, even those with some form of affection toward me?”

He sighed in defeat, but some part of him seemed grateful that I had at least acknowledged his feelings. “I likely should not.” He met my eyes again. “I’m sorry the hurt I caused you continues to do harm, little nisse.” He slowly started to get up. “I wish I could start over. Take all of it back. Take that night back.”

“I know.” I sighed heavily. “I wish I knew what to tell you, Loki, but right now I don’t. I know in my mind, maybe I even believe my heart, you had no intent to hurt me tonight,” he nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “but my body didn’t.” That glint died just as quickly. “It’s the first time you’ve tried to touch me since the night we met, and I hate that’s the reaction I had. But, I did, and I can’t help that any more than you can change your past actions.”

“Is there a way from this? If we are truly becoming… friends. What can I do, little nisse?” 

“I don’t know, Loki. Maybe there’s something we can do to work on a trust between us. But we aren’t going to figure it out tonight. We can think about it, and we’ll talk when you come home.”

“Home…” that glint of hope came back as I bid him goodnight and shut my door again.

That was the last time I saw Loki. The next morning, he left on a mission. Just days later, I left the Compound for good with Clint, Wanda and Pietro.

Chapter Text

We spent the next two weeks traveling northern and central Mexico, collecting intel, setting connections. Lo had warmed up to Jack a bit. Well, she wasn’t openly hostile anyway. Jack’s condition had improved by leaps and bounds, and he was proving indispensable backup. Nothing gets respect out of a room like the sudden entry of an angry supersoldier that looks like he fell out of a Mad Max movie.

“You sure you won’t let me cut your hair?” I asked Jack on the way back to the van after a productive, if slightly violent, meeting with some local color of the mutant variety.

“No.”

“No, you aren’t sure, or no, you won’t let me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just saying it’s not very practical, sug. Easy to grab. That’s why I cut mine. Well, that and it’s easier to wear a wig.”

“You expect me to wear a wig, sweets?” 

“No, but you aren’t exactly nondescript either, sug.”

“I thought that was the point, honeybunch.” He’d taken to trying out pet names himself whenever I used one. He hadn’t done a repeat yet, and I was a little impressed.

“Not for me. I’ve been keeping it low key for months. At least let me take some length off or show you how to tie it back? It’s gotta feel hot during the day.”

He gave a noncommittal noise.

“Besides, that 15-in-1 soap you use isn’t doing it any favors.”

He looked offended. “The hell is that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with my soap?”

“It means, half your volume is dry, frizzy ends. If you’re gonna keep it that long, the least you can do is keep it healthy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

“That shit is so dry it’s crispy. You let me wash it one time and see if you don’t notice a difference.”

He gave me a strange look. “You’re not gonna wash my hair.”

I shrugged. “I would if you let me.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s weird, Sarah.”

“How the fuck is that weird? It’s a service very average people actually pay for, and it feels nice, like a backrub, but for your head. How is it more weird to have a friend do it for free?” 

He didn’t have an answer for me and dropped the subject.

I veered us down a side street to follow my nose toward a taqueria. “Hungry?”

“Thanks to you, all the damn time.”

I grinned. “You’re welcome.”

He scowled, but I was already learning the feigned grump from the real one. Which reminded me more of someone besides Buck, for a change.

I took his arm and squeezed it a little. “You don’t have to thank me, sug,” I teased, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” He just harrumphed, but it lacked weight as the corner of his mouth quirked and he matched my stride.

We enjoyed a leisurely dinner and a beer, and I made sure to save some meat to take back for Lo. Jack gave me what had become his signature look whenever I treated my furrier travel companion like ‘people’ and I just shrugged. “The spirits must be appeased.”

After dinner we continued our walk back to the van, and near the edge of town, I caught a familiar smell as we passed a particularly seedy-looking cantina. A smell that dredged up old memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time. I paused, looking toward the open doors just as a familiar silhouette went inside, the bright red cherry of a cigar crushed under a boot as they passed the threshold.

“Sarah?” Jack hesitated.

My eyes were locked on the door. “Head back to the van, Jack.” I handed him the foil pouch of meat I’d saved for the cat. “Feed Lo and tell her I asked her to stay home tonight.”

I let go of his arm and moved toward the open door and he caught my elbow, gently. “I don’t think you should be going in there alone.”

My voice went level. “Jack, you are not going to be able to help me with this interaction. I need you to go back to the van and wait for me.” 

“Let me at least wait out here for you.”

I let my face go hard as I met his eyes. “What did I tell you when you decided to tag along, Jack?”

“I’m not trying to take over or tell you what to do, Sarah.”

“I said I meet dangerous people regularly, and I take calculated risks you will not like. This is one of those. Not all of the dangerous people I know will take kindly to my suddenly having a fucking German Shepherd in tow.” He bristled, and I looked down to his chest, reached out, and hooked a sunbleached brown wave of his hair with one finger, lifting it toward me without any tension or pulling.

He froze like I’d grabbed him in a far more intimate and forceful way. It got his focus, and that’s what I wanted as looked up at him. I watched his face as I lifted the strand, stroking it against the side of my index finger with my thumb. “Jack, I will be fine. If I’m not back by morning, you can start looking for me here, and if I’m not here, look for that motorcycle.” I pointed and his gaze followed mine. 

He looked at the door and then back to me again. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to. I just need you to trust me.” I lowered my hand, fingers dragging down the lock of hair gently, the barest tension as the end slipped from my fingers. “Please, Jack, just do it. I will explain later.” I knew if I told him who I was going to talk to, I’d never get him to leave.

He held my gaze several long moments, searching for something. “Okay,” he said finally, “be careful.”

I smiled. “Always, sug.” He gave me a small nod and moved away. I watched him head down the street, coat billowing. When I felt confident he wasn’t actually doubling back, I turned to the dive bar and headed inside.

There’s something universal about a dive. Dirt, yes, but there’s a patina of age and the rawness of life that inhabits it. A true dive has a soul beneath the embedded smoke and sticky floors and rumbling of beleaguered humanity, and I loved them in their shadowed rawness like I loved the man I slid on the stool beside. 

“Two mezcal.” I told the bartender in Spanish as he looked at me. “I don’t need the lime.” He smirked and filled the shot glasses he set in front of me. 

“Leave the bottle,” growled the man beside me.

The barkeep looked at him, then me, and I laid some cash on the bar. “It’s fine. I’ve got him.”

He nodded, and took the cash, which was definitely more than the bottle was worth. The potential of property damage was high enough I made it worth his while.

“Expectin’ trouble?” the man beside me rumbled. 

I smirked and picked up my shot, pushing the other to him. “With you, always.”

He finally looked at me. “Heard ya might be lookin’ for me.”

“Not specifically, and not here. It’s pretty far south for you.”

He took the shot with me. I appreciated the smoky, herbaceous burn of it sliding down my throat with a sting like turpentine. It wasn’t good mezcal, but neither of us wanted it to be for this talk.

“Did you come to find me?” I asked, filling our glasses again.

“Yes.”

The way he said it made my gaze go wary. “Hill?”

“Yes, and no.”

I regarded him for a long moment. “You know you and I aren’t at odds here.”

His eyes closed. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.”

“Shit, yeah it is,” he said fervently and we took the second shot.

I looked him over. The planes and lines and thick, muscled curves of him under the snugly fitting white tank and faded jeans, the hard line of his jaw, and the weight of his brow under the distressed leather Stetson, only accentuated by the constant shadow of scruff and sideburns gone to muttonchops. He was almost always in peak shape, it was one of the upsides to his curse, but he looked tired. “When’s the last time you ate, Fuzz? Or slept?”

He harrumphed. “Pro’bly too long.”

“The idea of hunting me down bother you that much?”

He looked at me, blue eyes conveying things he’d never say.

“Well, I’m touched.” I pushed the bottle toward him. “Bit surprising for a guy who hasn’t even talked to me in years.”

“Ya know there’s more to it, short stack. I danced at yer weddin’.” He said, taking a long swig from the bottle.

“There is,” I agreed, taking the bottle back from him for one last swig I didn’t actually take, just swishing the liquid to my lips and back, “and you did. Then you fucked two of the people in our wedding party.”

He chuckled. “Jealous?”

I shook my head with a huff. “You know better. You held my babies.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answered ruefully. He growled, taking another swig from the bottle. Then he finally met my eyes. “I heard. Sorry.”

I gave him a fond look and leaned enough to bump my shoulder against his. “C’mon, Fuzz. Let’s get outta here and I’ll buy you dinner while you tell me the damage.”

He grumbled and slipped from the stool. I grabbed the bottle and followed him, smoothly leaving the bottle at a table on the way out, to a grin from a couple of old men. He was halfway through his torta at a nearby street vendor as I snagged the occasional duro from the paper bag between us when he realized the bottle was nowhere in sight and it was too late to be mad at me about getting sober.

“Mean trick, short stack.”

I smirked, taking another crispy fried wheel and pushed a bottled water toward him. “Finish your sandwich, Fuzzy, then you can tell me all about what a mean-spirited bitch I am.”

He growled at me a little, the scowl not wholly genuine in its familiar grumpiness.

“So you’re here on SHIELD business?”

“S’posed t’ bring ya in,” he answered around a mouthful. “’M not th’only one. ‘N Stark’s not th’only one askin.”

“You’re one of the nicer ones,” I agreed.

He grunted. “Never been called nice by a job.”

I took another crisp, meeting his eyes as I brought it to my mouth. “Well, you aren’t friends with most of them.”

He gave me a smirk. “Hank told me yer looking fer me, too.”

“He tell you why?”

He shoved the last bit of sandwich in his mouth and we got up. I grabbed the bag of remaining duros. “Just yer chasin trouble like ol’ times.” He offered me his arm. “Think the word he used was ‘recalcitrant’.”

“Ha! Takes one to know one,” I grinned. “But you already knew that if SHIELD put you on my tail.” I took it, hooking my elbow around his, holding the bag between us to share.

He smirked. “Don’t need a job for that.” He got that darkly mischievous glint as he reached into the bag of snacks. 

“To know that, or to be on my tail?” I returned his flirtatious look.

He chuckled darkly and the warm sound from deep in his chest with the wave of fondness sent goosebumps over my skin. “Both. Yer lookin’ good for bein’ on the run, darlin. I like the hair.”

I scratched the back of my head lightly through the short curls. “Thanks.” 

“Ya always did make handlin’ this kind of business look good.”

“Same to you, bud,” I smiled. “So are you here to flirt, or bring me in, Fuzz?”

“Ain’t decided.”

I ignored the lie. “Do you really want to stop me?”

“No.”

“Then why the indecision?”

“What’s yer play, girl?”

“All of us, working together. Same as always. Enhanced people and mutants aren’t getting distinguished between in the bigotry now, so nobody has that excuse anymore. Hell, vanilla folks who run around in a mask like Falcon are getting chucked in the basket with us, so there’s really no excuse not to work together.”

“So the ICE breakout?”

“Side job. An oldie but goodie, by request.”

“Ya drew attention t’yerself, girly.”

“Good.” I said sharply. “My professional portfolio was looking faded after fifteen odd years of being a good girl.” I smirked. “Gotta show ‘em I still got it.”

He sighed. “Ya really ain’t givin’ this up, are ya?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you honestly think I would?” We’d gotten back to the cantina and his beloved Harley.

He chuckled, leaning back onto the bike with his butt against the seat, crossing his arms over his chest, his feet wide. “Nah. Damn near stubborn as me.” 

“Good. Glad you haven’t forgotten every thing you used to love about me, old man.”

His hands reached out lightning fast, grabbing my hips and tugging me to stand between his feet. It was so fast I had to catch myself with both hands against his broad chest. “I ain’t forgotten shit about ya, darlin,” he growled. “Includin’ what I still love about ya.” His hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against his torso, the thumb of one hand slipping under the hem of my shirt to glide idly back and forth over a sliver of skin just above the waistband of my jeans. 

I tried to suppress the way my exhale caught, the lightning that shot straight up my spine at that small, intimate touch.

He caught it anyway. Because of course he did. But, he didn’t smirk, there was no tease in his voice, because he understood. “Thought so.” He brought his face close to mine, tipping the hat back with a nudge of the brim against my head. “How long’s it been?”

“Going on six months with little more than the occasional handshake or fist bump. Except for my cat.”

“No wonder.” He pressed his forehead to mine. I could smell mezcal and cigar on his breath, and that deep, musky, woodsy scent of him that drug a hundred memories from the back of my mind.

“I’ll be fine.” I pushed my palms against his chest, trying to give myself room to breathe through the touch-starved feeling of fire ants under my skin. 

“Bullshit.” He splayed the hand under my shirt, sliding it up until the full warm, calloused expanse of his palm and fingers pressed into the bare skin of my back and I shuddered while I hated my body for it. 

“I’ve gone longer.”

“I hear yer heart, I c’n smell the stress comin off ya, like ya been in pain for years.”

“That’s because I have,” I said indignantly, pushing myself away more firmly and he let me go. “Not that you’d know anything about it.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be there.” He reached out again and took my hand.

“It’s not just you. All of you. Even Hank doesn’t want to see me.”

“We all thought we were protectin ya.” He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles and I let him, wishing I didn’t feel that clawing need in my gut. “‘Specially after you went to work for Tony.”

“Well, that hasn’t exactly been a concern the last three years, has it?” I said, unable to keep the bitter edge from my voice.

“I woulda come if ya called me.” 

“I tried to reach out. I called the school and nobody would help.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I know the team kinda split up. But, Jean and Scott wouldn’t tell me how to reach you or even Charles, and Hank got so standoffish after I married… always busy at the university. I couldn’t even manage to see him before I ran. Had to leave a note in his mailslot like a damn undergrad.” 

“Shit.” He rose up from where he leaned and stepped close. Despite being about the same height, his bulk and the sheer force of personality always made him seem bigger, somehow able to surround me without cornering or even touching me.

I hugged myself with my free arm, not willing to break the contact of his calloused thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “I tried to schedule coffee with him a few times when I first moved to New York, but he was so hard to plan with it felt avoidant. Like I was bothering him. So I stopped. I saw him on the news, so I know why now, but that feels even worse. I can’t believe he would really think that I’d reject him, just because he looks different. Not even that different! He’s been blue and furry as long as I’ve known him, for fuck sake!  And the kids are …well, they were kids when I was at the school. They would barely remember me, if at all.” I looked down at his hand holding mine.

“Guess I’m gonna hav’ta beat some sense inta big blue, eh?”

“It all felt like being abandoned again.” I felt the tears welling up against my will. “So, after I lost Paul and the kids, I didn’t even try until things started happening.”

He wrapped his arms around me in the biggest hug. “I swear I didn’t know you were lookin fer me. I’m sorry, short stack.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in the curve of his neck. “I know, Logan. I know that now.”

He held me like that for a long minute, but gave me a squeeze and my space when I started to pull away, standing on the precipice between crying and wanting to not let go of the first person to show me care in months. “Where ya stayin, darlin?” His rough voice was so gentle it almost threw me over the edge.

I met his blue eyes again. It was always such a strange level of intimacy looking him in the eye, being the same height. “Just outside of town. I have a van.” 

“Ya always did like the road life. Lotsa reasons we get along.” He had that look he got sometimes that showed his incredibly long life. “I wanna help ya, short stack. Give ya whatcha need.”

I gave a pained sigh, my chest tight. “I have a couple of traveling companions.”

“Ya mentioned the cat. Someone else?”

“Well, Lo… isn’t your ordinary cat. Fair warning, she’s oddly possessive.”

He smirked. “Ya said a couple. That guy y’were with outside?”

I chuckled. “Of course you saw me first.”

“Smelled ya. Hadn’t decided if I was gonna let ya go. Then ya plopped down on the stool nex’ta me like we saw each other last week and I ain’t the scariest guy in most rooms.” I chuckled, and he smirked back at me. “Who is ’e?”

“Jack Monroe.” I could tell it didn’t ring a bell for him. “The Nomad.”

“Shit, darlin, ya like ‘em crazy. Ya with ‘im?”

“No.” I said firmly. “He decided to tag along, thought he could help, according to him. More like he needed a cause and decided I was it for some reason. Not my fault I’m a damage magnet.” I pursed my lips and raised a brow at him. “You’re fuckin’ welcome for that, by the by,” I added cheekily.

He chuckled and hugged me again. “Ya wanna go for a ride before I take ya home, short stack?”

I knew what he was asking me and I wanted it so bad my skin ached. I rested my face against his neck again. “Please, Fuzz.”

He let me go, pressing his lips to my forehead as he stepped back. Then he turned and pulled his leather jacket out of one of the saddle bags. “Here, short stack. You’re gonna want this.” I pulled it on as he got on the bike and cranked it. He offered me an arm and I climbed on behind him. I molded myself against his back, hurtling down a back road into the desert with no helmet on a motorcycle with a man sent to capture me. And it was the safest I’d felt in months, since Steve had left to chase Bucky. I sighed, enveloped in Logan’s scent even with the wind ripping past, the cigar smoke clinging to the jacket, pulled up around my neck. The firm muscles of his thighs and back and the firm planes of his stomach under my hands supported me, his skin warm where my face pressed to his neck.

Chapter Text

Logan eventually pulled the bike off the road and we moved out into the desert proper. He stopped and helped me off before dismounting himself. I was looking at the vintage Harley with a bit of nostalgia.

“What’re ya thinkin ‘bout, short stack?” He smirked as he took his bedroll off the back.

“Last time I was on a bike. It was Steve Rogers’ bike, I was running from the Avengers Tower with Bucky.”

He looked up at me, unrolling the pad. “Bucky… Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier.”

“Not anymore, but he was a bit Winter Soldier-y at the moment, yeah. Time before that was with you.”

He looked down, unzipping the sleeping bag. Then he took off his boots and hat and sat down. “Come tell me a story, short stack.”

I came over and nudged off my shoes, stepping onto the bedroll. I shed the jacket and started to peel off my shirt, my face showing not longing, but resignation and sadness.

He reached up and stopped my hands, his eyes confused and concerned. “Darlin, You don’t need to do that. If ya didn’t want this…”

“You know this isn’t about sex, Fuzzy.” He would be able to easily tell how very not turned on I was at the moment. “You want the story, and it won’t make sense if you don’t see me.” I gently pulled his hands away. “I need you to see me, understand how I’ve changed first. Please, Logan.”

His brow dropped, and his hands drew mine to his lips. “Whatever ya need, darlin. I’m here.”

I drew my shirt over my head and took off my bra, his eyes on me, not a hint of lust behind them while he held the space I’d asked for. I turned away from him, setting them on top of my shoes. I heard a little sound as he saw my back. Still turned away from him, I pushed down my jeans and panties at the same time. I knew exactly what he saw as I started to turn back to him, giving him a full view of my back and left flank, all the gnarled, twisted mass of scars, shining silver in the moonlight, stretching in an angry roiling swarm from my left knee up the outside and back of my thigh, covering my hip and half of my ass to reach its greedy tentacles up my ribcage and back to just under my shoulder blades. 

He was already standing. He held his hands out to me and I took them. He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me and I heard a low, rumbling growl that seemed to start all the way down in his toes reverberating against my body as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he hugged me to him. “God, short stack… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”

“I know, Logan.”

“Gonna kick their asses for not telling me. Gonna kick Hank’s ass for being a damn coward.”

My chest squeezed so hard it pushed out a sad little huff of a laugh. I kissed his cheek, nose rubbing into the rough of his sideburn. “It’s done now.”

He nuzzled my neck and I knew he was taking in my scent, reading me, in his way. “Still wanna tell me a story?”

“No. But, I need to.”

He touched my cheek gently. “Tell me whatcha need.”

Words were failing me. I felt raw, exposed and vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with clothes. I slid my hands down to tug at his shirt and he moved immediately, stripping it off over his head and tossing it on top of his boots and hat. He cupped my face in his warm calloused hands and kissed me gently while my hands spread over his chest. “Do you need more,” he asked, thumbing my cheekbones as he searched my eyes.

I felt lost, just the small amount of skinship and care he’d given me in the last couple of hours, had me feeling unmoored. “I don’t know. I just know I need to be held.”

He nodded and finished stripping down himself. Logan had always been the kind of person comfortable in his body, the kind of person who understood the distinction between nude and naked. He liked being nude, and he knew I did. He drew me down to lay with him on the bedroll and drew his sleeping bag around us, feeling my skin already starting to get chilled in the cool night air. It obviously wouldn’t zip with both of us inside, but protector that he was, he put his back to the opening. I nuzzled into the coarse hair of his chest and he tangled our legs together and kissed my head as his hand ran soothingly up and down my side from my knee all the way to my shoulder. We lay there a long time, breathing each other in, touching and comforting each other, until surrounded and soothed by his scent and his warmth and his affection, I finally started to talk.

I told him the story. I told him about moving to New York for Paul’s post doc. Then I told him about that day. I told him about the Battle of New York and the aftermath and weeks of cleanup. And then I told him about the doctors and the painful, ultimately useless treatments for the radiation and the burns, and how I had to relearn my body and my capabilities, physically and mentally, and how to live with the ebbs and tides of pain in my very bones that were a part of my existence now. Not just the facts of what happened. I told him the deeper truth of that day and what it had done to me in a way I hadn’t told anyone while he thumbed and kissed away the tears that fell, belying the steadiness of my voice. I told him the ugly, raw, crushing details because I knew he would understand in a way nobody else could. That he wouldn’t offer me pity or platitudes, that he wouldn’t be shocked by the violence, or pain, or terror. That he wouldn’t need me to sugarcoat or censor what I saw or what I did to survive and to help others survive. He just held me tighter while I shook apart in his arms, while I dislodged all those details I kept tight in the nooks and crannies of my memory, locked up in my mind and in my body.

When it was finally all told we laid there in silence while he stroked my hair and my back and kissed my forehead. He didn’t say anything, because he understood. He knew words were useless, there weren’t any to say in that moment. He just held me close until I was ready to speak again.

I told him about the Avengers and life in the Tower. About the first time Thor hugged me in all of his bombastic goodwill after I tried making Asgardian food the first time, and it was so overwhelming after a year without any real human contact it felt like I was going to crumble and fly apart. I told him about Nat and Clint and wine nights and Monte Cristos. He smiled and said he was proud of Natasha for finding what she really needed. I told him about Bruce and meeting Hulk again in the Tower because Bruce had gone two days without eating or sleeping because he was lost in a project.

And I told him about Bucky. I told him about the Winter Soldier and how he thawed and had ultimately started to find himself and how we found each other in the process. I told him about Steve and the trust we had slowly built between us. I told him about how the three of us had found a kind of anchor between ourselves, a place to go and come back to that felt as warm and safe as I’d ever felt in my life. I know he could sense my feelings while I told him about them. He told me he was glad those Howlies finally got to go home. Somehow it both surprised me and also didn’t that he knew them back then. He gave me that small, ancient smile and told me they were good men and it didn’t surprise him a bit that we had found something good together.

I told him about the Compound and the Maximoff twins and Vision. I told him about Loki and it was the only time I felt him stiffen and bristle, but he held his peace. And, finally, I told him about how it all came crashing down.

When I finally went silent again, we just lay there quietly wrapped up together. Soft nuzzles and soothing caresses and occasional kisses passed back and forth between us, never growing heated or demanding, simply giving and offering the comfort of touch to each other, unfettered by expectation. 

We knew each other well enough to know we were both regularly touch starved, and neither of us was much bound by social normativity when it came to physical affection. We’d had sex a few times in the past, an easygoing friendship with occasional benefits if the stars aligned a certain way. Logan was absolutely a horndog and his wires often got crossed when he was especially lonely or keyed up, and hey, sometimes a girl just wants to get manhandled a bit. Once he’d learned he didn’t need the excuse of sex or romance to be close with me, far more often we would find one another when one of us needed skinship and intimacy and didn’t want sex. We were more than willing to offer each other physical comfort without those strings of convention, and I’d almost forgotten how liberating it could be to be so intimate in my needs without fear of a cuddle buddy getting the wrong idea.

My fingers and face were in his hair, one hand playing with his ridiculous cowlicks that always reminded me of cat ears, the other stroking along his hirsute back, scratching between his shoulder blades in that way that made him rumble with contentment. His head rested on my chest with an arm and a leg thrown over me, his warm weight on top of me, far more dense than an average human, felt like it was gradually unfurling knots I’d been carrying around forever, the uncomfortable feeling in my skin subsiding for the first time in months. He must have been thinking something similar because he made an affectionate sound that nearly sounded like a purr, rubbing his hand firmly up and down my hip and thigh, utterly unbothered and uninterested in the scars under his hand. Because it didn’t matter to him. “Almost forgot how nice it is holdin ya, short stack. Still think it’s a heck of a talent.”

I chuckled. “More people should learn to appreciate what a cuddly ace has to offer.”

“Yeah, sure.” He laid a soft kiss on my sternum. He never believed it wasn’t my own superpower that he could relax so much with me without needing the feral fucked out of him first. “How long ya have?”

“I told him he could start forming a posse if I wasn’t back in the morning.”

He rumbled again, grumpily this time. “S’pose I oughta be taking ya back then.”

I looked around and sure enough the air was starting to take on that sort of lightness that spoke of dawn just beyond the horizon. “Damn. Shoulda told ‘em noon. To be fair, I wasn’t actually expecting to spend all night trauma dumping on you.”

He chuckled, rising over me on elbows and knees. “What about the rest?”

“Oh, I will always hope for a long night of cuddles with you, Fuzzy.” I leaned up and gave him a slow, gentle kiss that I hoped would convey all my gratitude and affection. He melted into it with a soft moan, settling on me again.

I felt a twitch against my hip and he pulled away. “Careful, darlin. We got an understandin’, but I’m only a man. ”

“Too much?” I teased.

“Keep that up and I might keep ya out past yer curfew. By a few days.”

I chuckled. 

“This has been great, but you’ve always been a heckuva kisser, and it’s been awhile.” He grinned, and it was such a rare thing for him it made me want to kiss him again, consequences welcome. 

“If it gives you a smile like that, I might kiss you again just to keep it on your face.” I had one of those intrusive, mischievous thoughts about the one thing I knew I could do that would make him come absolutely unglued. 

He probably caught some subtle shift in my heartrate or breathing or scent and chuckled, “Don’t tease an old man, darlin.” Maybe he just saw it on my face.

I grinned and gave him a little peck on the nose and felt a quickly buried little flutter of happiness from him that warmed the deepest part of my heart. “Fair enough. C’mon and take me back and I’ll make you breakfast, Fuzz.”

“Sure.” We got up and back into our clothes and he pulled the jacket around my shoulders while I put my shoes on. I helped him pack up the bedroll and soon we were on the road with me nestled against his back again. He headed back toward town and I directed him to the van, pulling up just as the first rays spilled across the sand.

Jack looked up from his bike, about to crank it. Man, he really took me for my word with the whole morning thing. 

“Morning, Jack,” I called using Logan’s offered arm to dismount.

“Sarah! Are you okay?!” He looked beyond relieved.

“Sarah?” Logan cocked an eyebrow, watching me shed his jacket and hand it to him.

I gave him an indulgent look. “Going by Sarah Grant at the moment,” I answered quietly, “don’t make it weird, you old troll.”

He chuckled as I turned to the other man walking up.

“Of course I am, Jack. I was catching up with an old friend. Jack, this is Logan. Logan, Jack.”

His hair was a little disheveled, dark rings under his eyes, but he extended a hand. “Logan.”

“Jack.” They shook, and there was a bit of that overly male strength play starting. 

“Oookay, boys, break it up.” I headed over to the van looking around and opened the door. Then I looked under the van where I saw the empty foil I’d sent back with Lo’s dinner sitting on the ground by her water dish. Then I looked inside the van. I looked in the passenger seat and under the bed. I felt my heart jump in my chest. I got back out and scanned around. “Lokitty!” I whistled and then trilled.

“What’s wrong, short stack?” Logan asked, walking over.

I looked past him to the other man. “Jack, where’s Lo?”

“I don’t know. I did what you said, gave her the leftovers and told her you wanted her to stay put. I opened the van to let her in for the night, but she just hissed at me and then ran off.”

“Dammit…” I looked back out in the desert. “Lo!” I strained my ears for something, but was met with only the quiet commotion of the desert at dawn. 

“You lost ‘er cat, bub?” Logan quipped at the other man who bristled.

I cut in, unwilling to let the two abrasive men get to know each other this early. “How far do you think we are from where we camped last night, Logan? As the crow flies.”

“Maybe 2K that way.” He pointed a direction. “Upwind. Ya think she went lookin fer ya?”

“I hope that’s what she did.” I looked at Jack again, who looked embarrassed. “Did you tell her I’d be back in the morning?”

He gave me a helpless look. “Sarah, she’s a cat. And, God help any coyote that crosses her.”

“Dammit, Jack…” I scanned the horizon again and when I saw nothing, turned back to the van.

“What’s the plan?” Logan asked.

“For now, breakfast. Hopefully she smells it and comes in.” I started pulling out the camp stove. “I just hope she finds shade before the sun gets too high. Big, long-haired black cats aren’t exactly designed for desert life, even if it’s technically winter.” I set up the percolator for coffee and rummaged through the cooler while it brewed.

Logan climbed up in the van with me, kissing me on the cheek before sprawling on my bed and pushing his hat over his eyes. 

“Hey, I didn’t put shoes on your bed, old man.” He smirked and toed them off to clunk on the floor, hands still behind his head. “Not a bad setup ya got here, short stack.”

“Shoulda seen the last one. Gladys was a sweet ride. ‘80s Chevy. Had her all set up exactly how I liked. Damn shame I had to ditch her after somebody caught up with me in Milwaukee and surveilled the shit outta her. Traded her in for Millie here a little over a month ago.”

“C’mere, darlin. You ain’t slept either.”

I chuckled, opening the cooler. “Only reason you’re thinking about sleeping instead of food right now is because you’re in my bed, old man.”

“Damn right, ‘n it’d be even better with ya in it.”

I smiled. “Maybe later, Fuzz. I got a couple super metabolisms to feed.”

He chuckled this time. “Always worryin ‘bout other people ‘n never enough ‘bout yerself, short stack.”

“I’m not driving today. I can sleep later.”

“Suit yerself.”

I fed them corncakes and eggs scrambled with onions and peppers. It took a bit of teasing to get Logan up, but soon they were both fed, and Lo slunk up while we were eating. “Lokitty!”  

She looked up and back down, wolfing down her breakfast of plain scrambled eggs.

“Lo, where were you!? I was worried about you…” 

She just gave me a slow blink and slunk under the van into the shade.

“Lo…”

“Ya know that ain’t no normal cat, right?” Logan drawled. I can only imagine what he smelled to make the decision so fast.

“Of course I do,” I retorted testily. “But, Lo’s been with me nearly as long as I’ve been on the road. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without her.”

Once he was done eating, Logan crawled back in my bed again. Jack helped me clean up.

“Jack, did you sleep last night?” He didn’t answer me, and that confirmed enough. “Why the hell would you wait up all night for me, sug?”

“You met up with some random guy in a bar, and told me you’d be back by morning? What am I supposed to do?”

I gave him a flat look. “Realize I’m a grown ass woman and if I say it’s handled, it’s handled.”

“I know you can handle yourself, but…”

“No buts, Jack. You nearly got into a pissing contest with the fucking Wolverine the second you met him.” I met his eyes bluntly. “Now you know why I told you to leave.”

He looked crestfallen. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Jack. But the next time I tell you to give me space, I just need you to do it and trust I’ve got a reason.”

He looked absolutely dejected.

I reached over the table and patted his arm. “There are times when I can’t explain my reasoning in the moment, but I generally don’t mind explaining later if you need me to. Sometimes, I’m just going to need your trust. Thank you for walking away when I asked. And, for being worried about me.”

He nodded. He decided he needed to go for a drive after that.

I sat in the doorway of the van, drinking the last cup of coffee from the pot.

“Ya comin in here, or what?”

I looked over my shoulder at the man stripped down to his underwear in my bed like he owned the place. “Thought you were asleep.”

He just lifted one arm. “Ya gonna keep me waitin all morning?”

I smirked and set down my mug and shimmied out of my jeans, crawling up into the bed, where I nestled in under his arm and rested my head on his shoulder. I threw an arm and a leg over him and he turned his face to me. He tightened his arm around me and I could feel him smile against my skin before kissing my forehead. Then, he rested his other hand on my knee and took one of the biggest, most contented sighs I may have ever heard.

“Hey Fuzz,” I asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“What is it about my smell that gets you like this instead of riled up?”

He made a little thoughtful sound. “Hard t’explain.” He nosed against my hairline, inhaling, drawing in my scent. “Home. Can’t say it’s a particular smell that reminds me of a place, a good home ain’t somethin I’ve had much in my life. But, it’s like, ‘Yeah, this is a place ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout what folks think. Yer fine just relaxin’ here’.”

He must have sensed something because he turned on his side toward me. “What’re ya thinkin’, darlin?”

“I dunno, Fuzz. Sometimes it just bothers me how cozy people feel with me. Don’t get me wrong, I like that I can comfort people and make them feel safe, I just…”

“Hey,” he cupped my cheek in one hand. “We both know it ain’t like that. Ain’t pheromones or nothin, I’d know if it was. Ya jus’ got this way with people, short stack.” He gave me a gentle kiss. “Wouldn’t work that way if ya weren’t who y’are. How ya make ‘em feel like ya give a damn about ‘em.” He regarded me for a long moment. “Yer still in the closet, ain’t ya. Ya ain’t told ‘em.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Not even in my file.”

“Yer breakin yer own rules.”

I sighed. “I know. It snuck up on me, I got attached before I knew what was happening and then…”

He kissed my forehead. “Ya really love ‘em, don’t ya? Yer Howlies.”

“So much it terrifies me.”

“Well,” he said, “it’s been a long time, but I c’n tell ya that Rogers is a good guy. Not many people I’d say I trust, but he’s one. Ya need ta tell ‘em, when ya see ‘em again, but I think it’ll be alright.” He hugged me tight. “An’ if not, I’ll beat some sense in ‘em.”

I smiled at him fondly and kissed him. “Thanks, Fuzz.”

“Welcome, short stack,” he answered, pressing his forehead to mine. “Now settle and let an ol’ man get a nap.”

I chuckled and snuggled in against him again and we slept through the afternoon until we heard Jack return. He’d been to the market and the local grandmas had apparently loaded him up.

The guys found some common ground over dinner carnitas, talking about motorcycles. 

Lo slunk out from under the van, ate, and went right back again. I laid on the ground looking at her under the van. “Lo… What’s wrong, sweetie?” She just looked at me. 

“Are you hurt?” She laid her head down again. 

“Are you mad at me for not coming home last night?” She looked up at me again and gave me a slow blink.

“I love you, too, Lo. I’m worried about you. Please, come out…” She just turned away from me and laid her head down again. 

I sighed in resignation. “Okay… I’ll give you your space.” That night at some point she slunk from under the van to sleep curled up in the passenger seat. It seems she liked Logan even less than Jack.

Logan, Jack and I stayed up late talking. We got some good leads and Logan said he would put the word out to a few people about the Rolodex. Later that night, when he was in my bed again, he said he’d talk to Hank for me as well. He left after breakfast and giving me a tight hug and the rest of us hit the road, heading west and north again. Mexico City could wait.

Chapter Text

I parked the van and we meandered down the beach in the rosy evening light. It wasn’t remotely Tijuana or Cabo. The nearest paved road was easily two miles away and the nearest town was five miles beyond that. “I still don’t know if I’m about you coming along on this one, Jack.” Lo decided to sit this one out for some reason. Two days since her overnight excursion, she still seemed out of sorts, and I was worried.

“And who will help you walk the mile back to the van through the sand, doll?” he said, my hand on the bare skin of his arm, a steady presence as my feet slid in the sand. I’d been surprised when he’d left his duster in the van and followed me up the beach in his dark tee shirt before offering me his arm.

“I’d manage, just slowly.” 

“I’m not going to wait a day and a half for you to slog back.”

“Rude, sir!” I laughed. 

“Look, if you planned to spend the night, just tell me now.”

I gave him some hard side eye. “Do we need to discuss something, sug?”

He didn’t look at me. “If you wanna spend the night alone with dangerous men, that’s not my business.”

I stopped and yanked his elbow to spin him around to face me. “Yeah, it isn’t your business. I will spend my time and my sleep , as I please, Jack, and whether or not I choose to fuck someone in the course of those events has precisely zero to do with you.” He refused to look me in the eye. “Look at me, Jack.” He wouldn’t. “If you don’t have the balls to look me in the eyes when you say it, then you better not have the fucking gall to say it.” I dropped his arm. “Go back to the van.”

He did finally meet my eyes then. “Sorry.” 

“That’s a start.” I rested my hands on my hips. “Keep going.”

“You’re right, it’s not my business. I don’t even wanna know, I just…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just worry, ok? I know you’re tough, and smart, and one of the most capable people I’ve ever met, but you’re still a normal human, Sarah, and you’ve got the leg thing, and if something happened to you...”

“Jack, I’m not just talking about running off with random people. I know a lot of these people. I hadn’t seen Logan in awhile, but I’ve known him for years. Same with the guy I’m hoping to find here. We’re friends. If we’re talking about meeting a new person, I’m generally wary, and I have a plan with you for backup. I was wary with you at first, wasn’t I?”

“Aren’t you still?” His eyes drifted away from mine again.

“Fair enough.” I regarded him a moment. “Does that bother you?”

“Of course not,” he lied. “I’m a disturbed and unstable supersoldier. You should be.”

“But you don’t want me to be anymore,” I pushed.

He didn’t look at me.

“I don’t keep my distance from you because I don’t trust you. You’ve given me zero reason to think you would harm me, and you’ve done your damndest to keep me safe.” I sought his eyes. “I do trust you, Jack.”

He finally met my gaze again.

“I’ve kept my distance from you because you don’t seem to know what you want from me, or what you can ask, and I’m giving you space to figure that out.”

I lost his eye contact again, and I knew I hit a nerve of some kind.

“I know you’ve been through a lot. It’s probably really hard for you to trust other people, but I feel like you want to. I can see it when you watch me interact with other people. Like maybe you want to feel that, too.” I turned and started walking again and after a few steps he was offering me his arm again, and I gave him a smile as I hooked my hand into the crook of his elbow, my thumb rubbing idly along his inner arm. “I’m not gonna push you, Jack. I just need you to understand that if you decide you want my friendship, it’s there.”

“Okay.” After a few minutes, he added, “Still doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with this situation you’re walking us into like you’re going to a tea party.”

I chuckled. “Just remember, in this interaction, you’ll get what you give. Let me lead, and don’t piss him off.”

Several minutes later, I could see a small beach shack backed up to the edge of the sand, facing out toward the ocean. We came up, Jack far more nervous than I. I tried not to let his nerves bleed over as I scanned for life. I dropped Jack’s arm as we reached the edge of the beach out of the deep sand. I came up to the open doorway and peered inside and saw a figure sprawled out on a bed at the back. “Really? All this time you were just on a damn beach vacation?”

He jolted upright.

He was absolutely selling the ‘beach bum mid-life crisis’. Cargo shorts, no shirt, hair unruly and a good bit longer than I remembered, several days worth of face scruff, and several beaded necklaces that were big enough they might have been sized for his alter. Maybe they were. He looked about groggily. “Natasha’s gonna fucking murder you, dude.” His eyes zoned in on me. “Painfully.”

“Cookie?” Something inside me warmed at hearing the nickname again after so long.

I smirked, “Hey, Bruce.”

He flew out of the bed and I had all of a second to warn Jack off with a wave before Bruce was hugging me fiercely. “Cookie!” 

I hugged him back and the familiarity and joy in it felt so good. “It’s good to see you, Bruce. You, too, if you’re listening, Big Guy.”

“He’s sleeping,” he grinned. 

I frowned at the lie, one he almost believed, and separated from him. “Bruce, what the actual fuck? Have you just been here for the last year?”

“Cookie, you don’t understand…”

I shoved him. “The fuck I don’t. YOU don’t understand, Banner. You disappeared ! I get Hulk going on walkabout, but then you just stayed gone?” I shoved him again. “You just fucking ghosted on all of us.” 

“Cookie, I’ve been working on…”

I reached out and grabbed those beads like I was jacking him by his collar. “Natasha thought you must be dead,” I snarled. I shoved him again until he sat heavily on the bed. 

“This!” He held up his wrist to show me a cuff/bracelet sort of contraption. “It’s a gamma ray inhibitor. Keeps the big guy asleep!”

If that was true… “And you just stayed away anyway?! All this time here you were, drinking fucking margaritas on the beach and puttering?!” 

He shot back to his feet. “Don’t you get it?! With this,” he held it up again, “I don’t have to live like that anymore! I don’t have to be a monster! I don’t have to be a weapon anymore. Isn’t that what you always said you wanted for me?”

“And you couldn’t be bothered with a goddamn postcard?! She grieved for you, you selfish coward!” I poured all my anger into the look I gave him as I met those brown eyes. “I cried when I got that email, those files. I started to believe maybe she was right and you really were gone.”

That finally got his attention. 

“What, did you really think nobody would miss you ?” I looked at his wrist and back up at him. “Take it off.”

“What?”

“Take if off, Bruce.”

“No way.”

“Did you even ask before you did it? Did you even talk to him about it? See how he felt?”

“Of course not!”

“Take it off. I want to talk to him.”

“No.” He frowned. “After Johannesburg, after Ultron, I swore if I could stop it he’d never come out again.”

“Good to know your therapist never got through.”

His frown turned to a snarl. “He can just stay asleep.”

“No, Bruce. You know that’s not how it works. He’s in there still, alters don’t just go away, the way your brain is different doesn’t just stop because you don’t want to accept that you’re part of a system. You’re just using that thing so he can’t body you out of the way when you won’t acknowledge him.” I held his eyes until he looked away. “You’re arguing with him right now. I know that look.”

He had the nerve to growl at me. “No.”

“Dammit, Bruce! This is why he hates you! This is why you can’t get along, why you can’t co-front worth a damn most of the time. Just let me talk to him.”

“This is why I didn’t come back! Because sooner or later they’d just want him! Even you! How is that monster more important than me getting to live a normal life?”

I somehow managed to skip over my normal retort that Hulk isn’t a monster and went for his own behavior. “How is this a normal life, Bruce? You’re hermitting! This isn’t any closer to normal or healthy than the years you spent on the run from Ross.” I sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. I glanced over at the door, and Jack was leaning against the frame, looking out at the ocean, close by but offering me space, and obviously getting a lot of information. “What have you heard?”

“I’m not devoid of the news cycle, if that’s what you mean. No more Avengers. Well, at least not the old team.” He sat beside me. “Cap’s on the run. Tony’s the poster child for the Accords.” He huffed. “Can’t say I couldn’t see that coming.”

“Everyone did.”

“So what are you doing down here? Who came with you, besides Lorenzo Lamas over there?”

“Nobody,” I chuckled at the reference, shaking my head. “I was in the neighborhood and caught some rumors. An American, beach bumming out here in the middle of nowhere, strange lights and noises at strange times, nearby town getting some unusual delivery traffic, medical equipment maybe. I knew someone was probably out here, didn’t figure it was you until I got into the area and heard some references to a ‘verdezote’ among some local kids.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Not specifically. Coincidence that I found you. Wasn’t in the market for genius level brains or earth shattering brawn at the moment. But, I heard rumors, and I had to know if it was you.” I reached over and laid my hand on his. “If you were really alive.” I leaned over and bumped my shoulder on his. “Now, I know. If this is really what you want, I can’t stop you, but I won’t give you up either.” I produced one of my business cards from my pocket. “If you change your mind about being a hermit, this is how you can reach me.”

He took it. “Are you in touch with Nat?”

“Not currently. I heard she flipped to Team Cap and I haven’t seen or heard from any of them in several months.”

He frowned. “I know you aren’t working with SHIELD or the government.”

“Absolutely not.” I answered fervently. “Haven’t talked to anyone Team Tony in just as long. I’ve been… building an independent network. People who want to help, but either don’t trust the system, or can’t be part of it. Non-signatories. Completely voluntary.”

“Just you. On your own.”

“Pretty much. Network is expanding on its own at this point, slowly. Get a name or two a week to add to the roster that I didn’t contact personally, always with a reference from someone I have. Been keeping activity and my movements largely under the radar, but it’s hard to avoid Big Brother’s eye completely.” I got up.

“You’re on the run.” It wasn’t a question.

I gave him a sly smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I’m actively uninterested in having discussions with anyone about any of the special people I know. I hope I get to see you again, Bruce.” I turned to leave and got several steps away when he spoke again.

“Valhalla.” His voice was rougher, pushed deeper.

I turned back to look at him. His brow was deeply furrowed, like he was in pain.

“Hulk?” 

He got up, breath huffing out. He took my hand as he passed, leading me outside. I gave Jack a reassuring nod and a wink on the way by. I watched the man holding my hand, his back hunched as he tugged me across the beach, nearly to the water. “Hulk, where are we going?”

“Here,” he answered roughly. He dropped my hand and started to unfasten his cargo shorts and kick off his sandals.

“Missed me that much, Big Guy?” I teased.

He gave me a smile that was so mischievously Hulk that I couldn’t have a doubt left who I was speaking to. He chuckled darkly as he dropped his shorts and boxers and his hand went to the cuff on his arm. He unlocked it and dropped it onto the shorts at his feet and in a blink, his body expanded, grew, and I was looking up at the green giant towering over me. Hulk with Bruce’s longer hair and face scruff was quite the look. Without preamble, he grinned and swept me up in his big hands and gave me a hug. 

“Hey, sweetie,” I cooed as he lifted me to his face and I kissed his cheek and wrapped my arms around his neck. 

He settled on the sand with me cradled in his arms, holding me close. 

“Everyone told me about what happened in Johannesburg, and in the fight with Ultron. I understand if you were tired after such a big fight and needed some time to yourself.” I nuzzled against his cheek and he sighed. “But, why didn’t you come back?”

“Hulk not want to.” He said it like that was all the explanation required. Maybe for him it was.

“I guess maybe there wouldn’t be much reason for you to want to, is there?” I turned a little, cradled in his arms and rested the side of my head against his cheek to look out at the ocean. We sat quietly for a long time, watching the lapping waves.

He finally broke the silence. “Hulk missed Valhalla.”

I turned and kissed his cheek. “I missed you, too, sweetie. What about Nat?”

“Hulk not care about Banner’s woman. Afraid of Hulk. Valhalla only Banner friend not afraid of Hulk. Kids not afraid of Hulk. Kids play with Hulk sometimes.”

I smiled up at him. “It sounds like you made a few friends. I’m proud of you.”

He grinned. 

“How long have you been pretending to Bruce that he has you under control? That he can keep you inside and asleep with that?” I pointed to the cuff on the ground.

He smirked. “Hulk always awake. Hulk strong. Puny Banner science not keep Hulk asleep.”

I chuckled. “You are strong. But I wish the two of you could find a way to get along.”

He scoffed. “Banner hates Hulk. Hulk hates Banner. Valhalla hates Banner too.” He gave me a wolfish grin. “Hulk thought Valhalla would smash Banner’s face like Metal Man’s.” 

I chuckled. “I thought about it.”

He lifted me up to face him and buried his face against my chest. “Hulk love Valhalla,” he rumbled.

I carded my fingers through his hair as I curled over him, resting my knees on his chest. He purred contentedly at the feel of my nails against his scalp. “I love you too, sweetie.”

He looked up at me. “Valhalla stay with Hulk?” He gave a devilish smirk. “Hulk make Banner stay asleep instead.”

“Much as I could use a few weeks of beach margaritas myself, I’m sorry, friend. I can’t. I have important work to do.”

He frowned. “Thing you talk to Banner about?”

I nodded. “People need help, and I’m going to make sure there’s heroes to help them. Especially the ones the government doesn’t care about.”

“Valhalla want Hulk to help?”

“Not if Hulk wants to be left alone. If Hulk wants to help, then I need you to convince Banner to agree. You share this body, and it isn’t okay to force one of you to be unhappy. Both of you deserve to be happy, not just one of you.”

He grumbled. I kissed his forehead, right where his thick brows knit together. “I know it can be really difficult to cooperate with other people, sweetie. It’s hard for me sometimes, too.”

He gave me a skeptical look, probably wondering if I was patronizing him. I laughed. “My guy, I have half a government and likely several non-governmental organizations looking for me. All because I told Tony, Fury and Ross they can eat shit on their Registration nonsense,” I kissed his nose, “and because there’s a couple of former Avengers who are maybe a bit overly attached to me.”

He gave me a smirk. “Shiny Arm love Valhalla, too.” I must have looked a little surprised because he tapped a finger to his temple. “Hulk smart. Hulk see Shiny Arm sad because Shiny Arm hurt Valhalla. Valhalla forgive Shiny Arm. Then, Shiny Arm happy and touch Valhalla all the time.”

I had forgotten that I hadn’t seen them since the Tower, after we had reconciled but technically before Bucky and I had been an item. I smiled. “You’re right. Bucky and I do love each other.”

“Where Shiny Arm? Why Shiny Arm not protect Valhalla?”

“He couldn’t,” I sighed. “A lot has happened since you left, Hulk. It wasn’t safe for us to be together and he had to leave.”

“Other friends not keep Valhalla safe. Cap not keep Valhalla safe?”

Something happy and proud warmed my chest. He calls Steve ‘Cap’… But, then, Steve might be the only one who didn’t speak down to Hulk and called him by name from the beginning. Even Thor sometimes called him Banner, and those two traded punches like fist bumps. I shook my head, grinning. “I’d only put them all in more danger of being caught. I couldn’t go with them.”

He looked troubled. 

“I’ve had adventures and made even more new friends, even though I miss all my old ones. I’ll see them all again eventually.” I kissed his brow again and stroked his face. “I’m okay, Big Guy, I promise.” 

He regarded me for a long moment. Then he looked over his shoulder toward the shack. I could see Jack sitting on a lounge chair near the door, watching us. I guess I’d find out how much he could hear later.

“Big Hair is new Valhalla friend?”

I chuckled at the name. “I don’t know that I’d call Jack a friend just yet, but we’re traveling together, and he’s doing his best to protect me.”

“Okay.” He pushed his face against my torso again and heaved a great sigh. “Valhalla has to go?”

I petted and kissed his hair. “I do, sweetie.”

He started to set me down, then stopped. He gave me a look that was equal parts resignation, determination and affection, kissed my lips quickly and then gave me a full on Hulk motorboat that made me laugh as I felt him shrink against my body until we were laying on the sand with Bruce’s face firmly planted in my cleavage. I sat there for a minute until I felt him stir, squeezing his arms around me with a little groan. “Alright, Bruce. Everyone out of the pool.”

He sat up with a start, and I gave him a longsuffering look as I sat up, too. Then, he noticed he was naked and I pointed to the shorts and ‘inhibitor’ lying on the sand. He scrambled for the shorts and hurriedly shimmied into them, as I hoisted myself off the ground. “Cookie, I…”

I shook my head. “You don’t need to talk to me right now. You need to talk to each other. You know how to reach me when you’re ready.” I turned to make my way back up the beach. “I won’t tell anyone I found you, but don’t stay gone forever or Nat won’t ever forgive either of us.”

Jack met me halfway back up the beach. “We good?”

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

I took his arm and we made our way back to the van, walking in an easy, if not exactly companionable quiet. We were about halfway back to the van when he broke it. “That was The Hulk.”

I didn’t look at him, fighting down my amusement. “It was,” I answered blandly.

“That was The Hulk naked .”

“It was,” I said again, matter-of-factly, lips twitching. “He didn’t want to ruin Bruce’s clothes. It was surprisingly considerate of him.”

“How were you not terrified? I was across the beach and felt intimidated.”

“Oh, Hulk’s always intimidating on some level. Far from the most intimidating I’ve seen him, if that helps. He’s a grower, after all.” 

He nearly choked on his own spit. “First the Wolverine has cutesy nicknames and shares your bunk, and now you sit on the beach and cuddle with a naked Hulk…” It genuinely sounded like his brain was overloading. “And the Winter Soldier is your lover ?” 

I guess that answered how good his hearing was. I glanced up at him now, and his face was such a study in consternation that I almost couldn’t stifle the laugh pushing to the surface.

“Do you just have a thing about incredibly dangerous and unpredictably violent men?”

“I’m also lovers with Captain America if that helps balance things.” I don’t think it did, he looked like he needed to take a knee. Now I laughed. “You gonna make it, sug? You need a minute?”

“Well, now I know why I never scared you. Jesus Christ, Sarah…”

I laughed harder and he eventually smiled. Actually smiled, running his free hand through his hair. “How my life got like this is probably a question for the ages, Jack, but here I am.”

We were nearly back to the van and Lo scooted out from underneath to greet us. “Hey, Lo!” She blinked at me and leapt onto the roof of the van.

“Still mad, huh?” Jack said.

“I guess so…”

When I opened the van and climbed in for the night, Lo followed with an oddly acrobatic move to swing her body through the doorway straight from the roof. I gave a little golf clap as she landed smoothly and she preened as I shut the door behind us. I sat on the bed and started putting on my pajamas as Lo got her drink and then moved to duck under the curtain to the front seats. “Lo… please, come to bed.”

She stopped and looked at me.

“I wish I knew what I did to make you upset with me.” 

She cocked her head and blinked at me.

“Well, I must have done something with the way you’re avoiding me.”

She regarded me for a long moment and then gave me a slow blink.

“I love you, too, Lo. I miss you.”

She hopped up on the bed. I offered a hand and she bumped her head up into my palm. I rubbed her head and scratched her ears until she purred and her eyes closed in bliss. I bent and kissed her head and she rubbed her head under my chin. I settled in and she took her customary place along my left leg, and I drifted off with the warm soft fur of her ruff between my fingers. 

And, I dreamed in memories…

“Is there something bothering you, nisse? You aren’t generally so anxious for a trip to the Tower.”

I was putting a final few things in my suitcase sitting open on my coffee table, my go-bag sitting beside it. I’d left the door to my room open since I was going in and out and I expected the twins to come by and let me know they were ready any time. Loki leaned nonchalantly in the doorway watching me.

He wasn’t wrong. But a meeting with the Board and an inspection of Tower operations wasn’t the only reason I was going. I’d be spending the week in New York, coming back the following weekend, and the twins were going with me. They wanted to do the tourist thing, and I would be happy for the company and the distraction. Steve, Sam and Nat were chasing down a lead somewhere in South America that I was incredibly doubtful of. Loki would be heading out on a mission in a couple of days and also couldn’t skip his mandated counseling session tomorrow so I had plenty of excuses to not debate why he wasn’t invited to come along as well. 

It was the last days of April and I was always agitated around this time of year. “No, but I’m always anxious when the core team is out.” It wasn’t a lie. I’d told Steve I was dubious about this lead, but Sam had him convinced that even if they didn’t find Bucky they would find at least a HYDRA op to mop up that might hold something useful.

He just gave me a doubtful look.

“It’s an awkward time of year to go to New York, too.” I peered at him over my shoulder as I zipped my bag. “The vibe isn’t exactly pleasant.”

I watched something in him wilt, and I let it go. He could talk to his therapist about his guilt. I didn’t have space for it, not this week especially. I slung my go-bag over my shoulder. I never went away from the Compound without it now. Things were too unstable and it held too many things that were too precious to lose.

“May I help?” he asked quietly.

“Sure.” I said it in an off-handed way, standing the small, carry-on size suitcase on its end.

He came in with the smallest look of relief and grabbed the handle of the suitcase. Then he gave me a look that I absolutely refused to entertain with any interpretation. I just adjusted my go bag on my shoulder and grabbed my work bag with a shrug and headed out the door.

The twins were waiting at the car. We had decided to drive, not wanting to waste jet fuel, and also so we would have transportation should we want it, though the car would most likely stay in the garage at the Tower the entire trip. Public transportation was part of the NYC experience, after all. I popped the trunk and dropped my bags inside, shoving things around a little to make room for my suitcase. Loki deposited it and turned to me again with that look, heavy with the desire to ask something, the slightest lean, an aching want to do something he knew wouldn’t be welcome.

“Watch yourself.” I indicated his shoulder being slightly in the path of the lid, breaking the moment by closing it as he stepped to the side. The twins ducked into the car, Pietro calling shotgun as I circled to the driver’s side door. “Try not to make too much mischief while we’re gone.”

“Of course,” he smirked. “Safe travels, nisse.” He shut the door for me as I settled and put the keys in the ignition, and I almost missed the subtle twitch of his fingers in the rearview mirror as he stepped away.

That night, while I was putting my hair under a bonnet, I found what he had done. There was a small braid, half the thickness of a pencil, buried deep and invisibly in the hair behind my right ear. “I’m sorry,” was what he had told me with it.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, 

I’ve been here, I've done this all before.

I’ll take your gloom.

I curl it up and puff it into plumes.

Right my little pooh bear, wanna take a chance?

Wanna sip the smooth air, kick it in the sand

I’d say I told you so, but you just gonna cry

You just wanna know those peanut butter vibes

My, my simple sir, this ain't gonna work

Mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy slurs

I can't take this place, no, I can't take this place

I just wanna go where I can get some space

“Gooey” by Glass Animals

I kept the hoodie pulled around my face, hanging at the back of the gathered crowd. My fourth night at the warehouse, watching the underground fights. Finally, I saw the man I was looking for. The fight was brutal. Fists and elbows and knees and even heads striking at one another, blood flinging outside the cage. This was a brawl. There was no finesse, and the only technique was in how to deal the most damage in the least time. Both were fighting to win, but the one was just better and he fought like he had more to lose. I zoned in on him, watching his movements closely while he was in the ring. I’d seen enough amateur video footage from Cairo to recognize him. 

He was average in size, a bit under six feet tall. Average in build, well-muscled, but not a bodybuilder, a boxer with defined chest and shoulders. He had the look of someone who did a lot of cardio and bodyweight work, which made sense for a man on the run. This made him smaller than his current opponent who easily had a few inches and about 30 pounds of solid muscle on him. It was his fifth fight of the night, I could tell he was gassed, but he kept going like it was something he needed to do. It smacked of self-harm and I didn’t like it. Fatigue finally got the better of him and he took a hard blow to the temple that should have put him down. 

That’s when I saw something shift in him. Still military training, still a boxer at his core, but now there was a vicious edge that spoke of a lifetime of back alleys and bar brawls and desperation. It was efficient and brutal. Nothing that would out him as enhanced, and maybe he wasn’t right now. He was just ruthless. A survivor. There was a sharpness to him now, a joy in the purity of violence that was enthralling, a singularity of purpose that said he wouldn’t mind killing you, but the decision was yours, not his. He was fighting before, now he had gone to work. And he loved his job. This, while different, looked like Cairo footage, too, and New York besides.

The fight was over in less than a minute. His opponent was dragged from the cage, and then he systematically dismantled three more challengers before he called it a night.

I made my way out after collecting my own not insubstantial winnings and down the alley beside the warehouse to meet Jack on the next street, only to see the man again around the back. Flat cap on his head, white button down shirt, grey blazer and jeans, only the fly of his pants open as he facefucked a young woman, one leather-gloved hand fisted in her dark hair, but not roughly. I recognized her as the same girl I’d seen here each night, hoping to relieve some fighters of their winnings. He rolled his eyes over and took me in as I paused, a playful smile shading his lips.

“ Enjoying the show, gordita? ” I heard in Spanish, the accent from somewhere well south of Mexico City, his voice rough and breathy as I turned away. I rolled my eyes and walked away, making my way casually around the corner of the building, looking up at the stars between the buildings while the woman gagged a little around his dick and he grunted and groaned his pleasure.

Jack was waiting for me at the end of the alley. “Any luck?”

“I found him. If anything, rumors don’t do him justice.” I gently lifted one lapel of his duster to slip the hefty wad of pesos from my front hoodie pouch into his inside breast pocket where it wouldn’t muss the lines of his coat. “He was occupied, so I haven’t spoken to him yet. But, he noticed me.”

He gave me a look. “I wish you wouldn’t go in there alone, Sarah.”

I shook my head. “Need to. I draw less attention.” I patted the spot where the stack of pesos sat like padding just under his right pec and smiled up at him teasingly. “You are not a low key companion.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re good at what you do, Jack. Unobtrusive companion who doesn’t draw attention is not that.” I glanced up and gave him a little smile. “When I need an equalizer, however, you do excellent work.”

He gave me a smirk that was a little feral around the edges, and more than a little proud. He offered me his arm and I took it. 

“I thought you were going to check out our other lead tonight, sug.”

“Did, doll. He wants to meet you.” I cocked a brow at him. He had let up on the ‘random nickname generator’ and seemed to have largely settled on ‘doll’ or occasionally ‘sweets’ for the last few days. I wasn’t sure if that’s the ones he liked best, or he had just exhausted the game and how it didn’t get a rise out of me. Mostly because at heart he was a gentleman and wouldn’t delve into the truly offensive ones like ‘sugar tits’. He shrugged. “Word is getting around, I guess.”

“More like his reputation for distrust wasn’t exaggerated. When?”

“Tonight? Said he wouldn’t be in town much longer, heading back stateside.”

I groaned in protest. “I have an early morning molé date tomorrow…” We’d been in Mexico City about two weeks and Antonio had been sweet enough to reach out to a few relatives with an introduction, which had been a tremendous help in networking my way to the underground fighting ring, as his family had a similarly ambiguous relationship with the law.

Jack smirked. “You trying to put every abuela in Mexico on a list, too?”

“Hey, some things are a work of necessity and some are a work of passion,” I answered. “Asking me to not be passionate about authentic Mexican cuisine while in Mexico is like asking me not to breathe.”

He chuckled, “If you say so.”

He led me to a hole in the wall bar, very ‘wretched hive of scum and villany’, and I followed his gaze that settled at a dirty table in the back and a man I could only describe as big. Not in the way Thor or Luke Cage were big physically, but in the way Steve Rogers was big. Someplace around six feet I was guessing, maybe a little more, and built like a goddamn brick shithouse. Broad and muscular with an energy roiling off him that read just as big. Dark hair cut ‘high and tight’ in a way that screamed his military background.  

I went to the bar first, ordering three beers and leaving them unopened. Dark brown eyes narrowed as we walked over and Jack pulled a chair out for me across from the man and I set the beers on the table, allowing him pick of the first. “I understand you wanted to meet me,” I said, sitting down and regarding him mildly.

“Not what I expected,” he said in a bass that was pure gravel and slid down my spine like a hard-calloused hand. He took one of the bottles and popped the cap on the edge of the table. Now that we were closer in the dim light of the bar, he had an olive-complected face, the interesting kind of handsome in a brutalist way that spoke of his Sicilian heritage and a life full of fists. From his broad nose that had obviously been broken more than once, his heavy brow with the line of a scar striking through one side, his ears that had probably gotten cauliflowered more than once, to his broad, angular jaw sporting a strong five o’clock shadow. He had the kind of face that could only be softened and humanized by a beard, and that’s why he didn’t wear one. 

“And, what did you expect, Mr. Castle?” I took the other two, popping the caps with a bottle opener on my keychain and handing one to Jack who sat down beside me. “Someone taller?” I smirked.

“Someone less soft.”

“Damn,” I huffed. “I just can’t escape the fat jokes tonight.”

He blinked. “I mean your eyes. You don’t run in these circles, walk into places like this calm as you did, with eyes like that. Not if you’re smart.”

“You think I should be colder to do what I’m doing?” I leaned back and sipped my beer. “I’m building an alliance. A network of disparate, and sometimes desperate, people who have little to no reason to trust each other, but who want to do good in the world. To convince them to trust me enough to take a chance at a kind of community. One that can be resilient against a government that doesn’t give a shit about them except how they can be of use. Being ruthless doesn’t get me volunteers, Mr. Castle.”

He scoffed, “Idealistic.” 

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He took a thoughtful swig. “So why are you talking to a hard-boiled, dyed-in-the-wool military man like me?”

“Because I’m not like you. But, that doesn’t mean men like you aren’t needed in this fucked up world.” I didn’t think ‘military man’ was really what he wanted to say. Frank Castle wore intimidation like a favorite suit, contained violence like a broken-in pair of shoes, and guilt and self-loathing like a second skin. “Because you know better than most that the US government will chew you up and spit you out without a thought. That their own laws are a joke to them. Something to be respected only as much as it benefits people with power, and they don’t care if the people they use are pacifists or monsters. You and I both know The Accords and the Registration Act are extortion, just a draft and a threat by another name.” I leaned in, resting my elbows on the table and taking another sip. “Sounds a lot like your wheelhouse, doesn’t it?”

He smirked. “You make it sound like a racket. That make Ross a mafioso?”

I quirked a brow back at him. “Tell me I’m wrong. It’s an excuse for people with money and power to protect themselves, using fear to keep people in line by pitting them against each other. The oldest psyop.”

His smirk grew dark. “You know, your bodyguard here isn’t the first to approach me about your little initiative.” He produced one of my business cards. “Just the first with access to you.”

I leaned back again, shutting down hard but trying not to show it on my face as Jack went tense beside me. I hooked an elbow over the back of my chair and took another drink. “They send you to kill me? You’re not the kind of guy that gets the soft capture missions.”

“You don’t care who?”

“I care more about how you got that.” I pointed at the card between his thick fingers with the neck of my bottle. “SHIELD, ICE, the CIA, HYDRA, HAMMER, or the goddamn Illuminati, it doesn’t matter to me. They all want the same thing, and it’s not anything I have.”

“And what is that?”

I smirked, crossing my legs under the table. “Nice try. By all accounts, you’re not a soft interrogator either.” I took another sip. “Who did you get that from?”

“Fair enough.” He chuckled darkly. “Now I see it.” He put the card back in his pocket.

I cocked my head, “What do you see, Mr. Castle?”

“What they see in you. No, nobody sent me after you. I was already down here on business. Your friend, the Wolverine, gave this to me. Crossed paths with him about a week ago. We aren’t always on the same side, but I respect him.” He drained the rest of his beer. “And I respect some of the work your teams have done, now that I know it’s been an orchestrated set of events.” Then, he stood and left without another word.

The second I heard the door shut all the breath left my body in a shuddering whoosh. “Holy fucking shit…” I laid my head down on my arms. 

“You okay, doll?” I could hear the smirk in Jack’s voice.

“What the actual fuck, Jack…” I looked up at him. “I don’t ever want to hear about me and ‘dangerous men’ again. That man is fucking terrifying.” My hands squeezed the beer bottle tighter because I knew they’d be shaking if I let go. “I’ve never been so happy to not shake someone’s hand.”

“Wow… that bad?”

“Jesus H. Christ on a cracker… I need a shot.” Jack got up and headed to the bar.

I needed a bigger word than ‘ruthless’ for what I felt off of Frank Castle, a harder word. The Punisher was tightly calculated rage, waiting, practically starving for the next chance to unleash itself. But, that was too passionate to describe what I felt. It was stark and bleak, a heart of wrath, hard and cold as marble, hungry, like the winter is starved and never filled. No remorse was left to be had there, no pity, no mercy. Only whatever code he’d built for himself to keep whatever scraps of humanity remained. 

Jack came back with a shot of tequila for each of us, we took it together and left.

We walked arm in arm for a few blocks before Jack spoke. “Are you okay, Sarah? I mean really. I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, that was just a lot. The rumors don’t do justice to his intensity, or rather I didn’t expect that to just be his default.”

He got quiet again for a bit. “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as you can accept whatever answer, including no answer.” I still felt a little frayed. It had been a short interaction, but it’s not every day you stand that close to death incarnate and have a beer with a man very bad people whisper about like the boogeyman. I didn’t think I was ready to have some kind of heart-to-heart after that.  

He thought about that for awhile, and I appreciated that he did. “Hearing you and the Wolv- Logan talk… and this tonight… a lot of little things over the last weeks, I guess… Are you…”

I was watching him from the corner of my eye as he trailed off, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Am I?”

“Are you…” Then, he stopped, ran his hand roughly through his hair with a groan of frustration then looked down at me again. “Do you still wanna cut my hair?”

Absolutely not what he wanted to ask, obviously. “Only if you’d like me to.”

“I… I think I would.”

“Okay. When?”

“Now?” 

“How about I can wash it tonight, and if you feel the same tomorrow, we can do it then?” He nodded and we made our way back to the van and drove back to the campground.

Once Jack went on a water run, I had him lay on the table, a towel supporting his neck at the edge, so his hair would hang free. I wet his hair, and as I spread shampoo between my hands and buried them against his scalp, he shut his eyes tight and I could tell he was breathing through whatever he was feeling. “Jack,” I paused. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. Just tell me to stop.”

“No. It’s… It’s good…”

My fingers started moving again and even with his eyes closed I could see the intensity of the experience for him. I tried to hold the trust he was offering me as I scrubbed and massaged his scalp until finally a breathy little groan escaped him and his eyes flew open as he realized the sound came from himself. I rested my hand on his forehead. “It’s okay, Jack. It’s meant to feel nice. You’re allowed to experience things that just feel nice.” I smoothed the shampoo down through the length of his hair, working it to the ends before rinsing it.

By the time I had worked in the conditioner, tears flowed from the corners of his closed eyes, even as the rest of his face stayed stoic. I took my time, gently finger-combing the tangles out, holding his space for whatever he was feeling. When his breath calmed again, I rinsed and toweled his hair dry, working some leave-in conditioner through its length. “All done,” I said softly, but I think he had drifted off. I gently combed my nails against his scalp and a quiet moan fell from his lips. “Up and at ‘em, sug,” I teased softly.

His eyes snapped open to see me smiling down at him and he sat up with a jolt. “Sorry!”

I laughed. “It’s okay, Jack.” I gathered everything back into my shower caddy. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I set the caddy in the van and hung the towel over the side mirror to dry. Lo sat in the van, watching him intensely. I turned to look at him again and my heart squeezed in my chest.

He sat on the table still, feet on the side bench, his eyes on me as intensely as the cat’s were on him. He looked unmoored, like he was trying to process too many things at once. I walked back over and sat straddled on the bench by his feet. I leaned on my elbow on the table, looking up at him. “Talk to me, Jack,” I said quietly.

“I can’t…” He looked down at me and his expression was so raw I believed him.

“Okay. How can I help?”

He just looked lost. One elbow on his knee, his head in his hand, the opposite hand leaning on the other knee,

“Jack, can I touch you?”

He looked at me again, and after a moment, he gave me a little nod. I stood and climbed up onto the table to sit beside him. I knew he was watching me, but I didn’t look at him. I looked at his hand, resting on his knee and slowly reached for it. My fingers glided over the back of his hand until my palm rested there. We just sat there, side by side, for a long time.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through, Jack. I can only imagine how lonely it’s been.” My thumb rubbed idly over his calloused knuckles. “But, you aren’t alone now, you don’t have to be. And, it’s okay for you to want that connection with people.” I leaned against him a little, just my upper arm touching his. ‘Puppy hugs’, my late husband called it, and it was always how my kids had liked to cuddle. Not being held, but just leaning against my side.

Eventually, I felt him relax against me and I rested my cheek against his shoulder. He stiffened again, just for a minute, and not as much as before, but he gradually met my lean, resting his head on mine. I don’t know how long we sat like that, but after some time, he gave a deep sigh, a whisper of thanks and goodnight, and got up to retrieve his bedroll.

I put everything away for the night and climbed into the van. Lo was already in bed waiting for me. I settled and she laid on top of me. “What’s up with this, girly?”

She nestled her head against my neck, purring. I buried my hands in her mane and soon fell asleep to her rumbling vibrations through my chest.

I looked up from the pot I was stirring on the stove, the rich smell of mulled wine and cider wafting through the air. “Pretty much everyone around here celebrates a different winter holiday. Steve is Catholic, the Maximoff twins are Jewish, pretty sure Rhodey does Kwanzaa, Tony and Pepper just do the modern secular version of Christmas...”

“And you, nisse?” Loki was in the main facility kitchen with me, watching me prep for the Avengers holiday party. Hot beverages and snacks for the team and some select guests. Many of whom were Tony picks, of course.

“I wouldn’t say I celebrate any particular thing, but I have a few personal traditions I perform around the solstice. I gave up on gods and thinking they gave a shit about anything people-related a long time ago.” I pulled down a thermos and a big travel mug and filled them with the mulled wine before passing the rest off to the small service staff for the event. “But, I can appreciate the need to gather and share love with people who are important to you in the darkest part of the winter.”

“That doesn’t quite explain why you would be going back to the mansion with me to read books all night rather than staying here with your beloved captain for the party.” He leaned against the table behind me, crossing his ankles and resting his hands on the edge of the table. The pose stretched his dove gray dress shirt across his chest a little and accentuated his thighs in the black slacks. Midgardian clothes complemented his build in a way his normal Asgardian ones didn’t, proving him broad through the shoulder and chest, a little long-waisted and narrow at the hip, muscled but not bulky. He struck me as strong and lithe now, like a swimmer, rather my first impression of skinny. I’d told him so the first time I’d seen him dressed like ‘a Midgardian trust fund baby’, and I’d only rarely seen him in a tunic and breeches since.

“I have a deep aversion to Tony-centric events. Last time, a world threatening event kicked off during one.” I gathered up my things, and pulled a package wrapped in paper covered in a pattern of snowflakes from my bag. “Catch!” I tossed the package at Loki.

He eyed the package suspiciously. “What is this?”

“The hell do you think it is? Do you really think I didn’t make you something, too?” I chuckled at him. It was one of my midwinter traditions to give handmade gifts. A holdover from the days when I had far more time than money. “Well, don’t just stare at it, Loki. Open it already.” I tucked the thermos in my bag, zipped, and slung it over my shoulder as he did.  

He pulled out the scarf, butter soft cashmere yarn sliding between his fingers in a dark forest green. “You made this for me?”  

“Of course I did. C’mere.” I took it from him. “Well, c’mon, bend down.” He did, still looking bewildered. I flipped the scarf over his head, deftly looping one side loosely around his neck. He straightened, pulling his hair out from beneath it to fall in dark waves around his face while I tied the ends loosely, letting the knot fall against his chest. “There.” I backed away and looked up at him with a satisfied smile. “Brings out your eyes, Loki.” I adjusted my bag and headed for the door. 

He looked confused, maybe a little overwhelmed as he watched me walk away. I still refused to make physical contact with him, not comfortable making that kind or level of connection, so my ability to read him was always a little subpar. I thought I heard him mutter something and I looked back at him from the door, his long fingers still weaving through the end fringes thoughtfully. “You coming or not?” I headed down the hall, shouting back at him. “Let’s go, I’ve got books to read, and wassailing to do, dammit!”

He huffed out a little laugh and followed me with a bemused shake of his head. We walked back to the mansion, passing the travel mug of mulled wine between us as I belted carols into the night. He opened the door for me and we were met by a waft of sweet spice. I paused in the hall to hang my coat and nudge off my work clogs, humming “Here We Come A’ Wassailing”. He nudged off his wingtips, even though they were always magically clean, just like the rest of him. He seemed reluctant to take the scarf off, ultimately just untying it and leaving it draped around his neck like an opera scarf.

I went to the kitchen and pulled a couple of mugs down from the cupboard. One of them was dark purple and webbed with glittery silver lines that matched the lettering on the side reading ‘World’s Okayest Avenger’. I discovered that part of the magic he had used in repairing the mug he had made me break the night we met caused it to keep any beverage inside perpetually the same temperature it was when it was poured in. A working mom’s dream to never come back to a cold cup of coffee. 

“Are you keeping it all to yourself, nisse?” He said with a smirk at the giant eggplant colored mug, coming into the commons behind me.

I scoffed, pushing another mug and the thermos toward him. “No… That’s for you.” I indicated the big slowcooker behind me on the counter producing the smell perfuming the house. “I prefer cider.” Then, I went to the bar and came back with a bottle of bourbon. I almost forgot and put the bourbon in first, but caught myself, pouring several healthy glugs into my mug after filling it with spiced cider. I’d learned the mug magic was a bit of a double-edged sword. If your coffee was too hot, it always would be, and I couldn’t put the vessel in the microwave. Once I had made Irish coffee in it and been infuriated that it came out room temperature because I had put the whiskey in first, rather than the coffee. Loki claimed he never considered that I might have such a propensity for spiking my hot drinks. I joked that he was safer to always assume my beverage contained some amount of alcohol, rather than not.

I set the bottle next to the slowcooker and headed to the couch where the Comfort Quilt and a new book were waiting for me. I settled into the corner of the sectional and picked up the old leather bound book Loki had brought in for me to read, a book of fairy tales. He joked it was because my Asgardian was still at a child’s reading level, but I knew it was because I’d once mused about what stories gods and legends tell their own children. It was old, the binding soft and well-loved under my fingers. I opened it and there was Loki’s name in tiny, awkward runes in the bottom corner of the cover page. The waft pulled me in as I turned to the first page, seeing an old spill of some liquid or other staining the edge of the pages. I heard him chuckle as he settled at the other end of the couch and realized my face was pressed to the fold, eyes closed, pulling in the scent of old paper and ink with a sigh. 

I opened my eyes. “What? It smells like stories.” I looked at him over the edge of the book, teasing in my eyes. “Don’t laugh at me for doing the thing you’re just too arrogant to do where someone could see you.”

I couldn’t parse the look on his face, it was the look he got when something I said cut a little too close to the heart, but I could never quite tell if it was uncomfortable in a good or bad way. He just turned back to his book, the fingers of one hand playing with the fabric of the scarf still draped over his shoulders. 

We settled into a comfortable quiet, only broken by him refilling his mug from the thermos, or me asking for a clarification on a word or rune I couldn’t quite decipher. He was animatedly describing to me how to tell Huginn and Muninn, Odin’s ravens of thought and memory, from one another on sight, complete with little illusory visual aids, when we heard the door.

I looked over the back of the sectional and had just enough view of the hall to see Steve’s hands draping his own scarf, cable knit with a string of celtic knots, in a french blue merino wool, on the hook with his coat. He smiled at me with all million watts as he came into view wearing dark slacks and my favorite sweater and saw me watching for him. “Someone is looking cozy.”

“Bókaflóð night!” I happily waved my book at him over the back of the couch.

“Isn’t that on Christmas Eve?”

“Not on Asgard,” Loki responded. 

I gave the super soldier my best come hither eyes. “Come join us, hon.” He grinned again and came back a few minutes later in sweats and a white tank, his own book in hand. I was a little sad I never got to cuddle him in that sweater, but I knew, man furnace that he was, he’d be too hot trying to snuggle up like that.

I shifted so he could lounge behind me in the corner where I knew he wanted to be. Once he was settled, I snuggled back against his chest, shifting the quilt so it covered us both. He wrapped one arm around me, nuzzled into my curls and whispered, “Happy solstice, beauty.” Then he opened his book and we went back to our cozy quiet.

Every once in a while, I would feel a telltale tug at the edge of my awareness and I would glance up to see Loki looking quickly back to his book, stroking the fringe of his scarf or rubbing the edge between his fingers. Once, I looked up when I didn’t feel that and I swore for a moment I saw him rub the soft fabric against his jaw, a soft but somehow haunted expression on his face.

Chapter Text

Antonio’s abuela was an operator in her own right, the molé date somehow became me pulling a shift in the family restaurant as soon she figured out I was a deft hand in the kitchen and was fairly fluent. Then, it turned into a week long engagement. Now we were pushing two, and I was a little surprised to consider the fact I’d been in Mexico City almost a month. But, I was picking up a lot, both in technique and gossip, so I didn’t mind. 

Most evenings I was still hitting the fights, making decent money and scouting talent for the Rolodex. Every night, I would see the same man, but he never shifted in demeanor in the way he did that first night. He was always the second version, the one that went into the ring to work and only gave enough of a show to keep the crowd interested and the challengers coming. He’d grown a mustache over the couple of weeks since I’d first seen him in the fights, and it jogged my memory. The alley hadn’t been the first time we met.

I was helping Abuela Carmen close up, taking the trash out back for her. I nudged the lid of the dumpster and lobbed the first bag in and reached down for the second when I heard a scuffle and a muted noise. I followed the noise and peeked around the corner of the next building over to see a girl getting roughed up.

“Hey!” They both looked over and I saw it was the young woman I had seen before working behind the warehouse after the underground fights. “You okay?” I asked her in Spanish, meeting her eyes.

Her eyes went wide. Then she whimpered as the man’s hand tightened in her hair. I could feel the terror coming off her from across the alley.

The man all but growled at me. “She’s fine. Little bitch took my money, and now she’s gonna take my dick.”

“I don’t remember asking you a question, asshole.” I started stalking down the alley toward them. “He demanding something he didn’t pay for?” I asked her. 

She nodded frantically. “I only do blowjobs!”

“I paid for a hole to fuck and I want the only tight one this little whore has left.”

“I imagine you do with a microdick like that. But I still didn’t ask you a question.”

That got him mad enough to let go of her hair and square up on me. She fell back onto her butt with a grunt, scrambled to her feet and bolted from the alley. He rounded and tried to catch her again, but he was too slow. Then, he turned back to me. “Maybe I fuck you instead. Bet you’re tight as a virgin with a bitchy personality like that.”

I showed him the smallest circle I could make with my thumb and forefinger. “How about a handjob, pencil dick?”

“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy fixing your attitude.”

“Just tell me one thing first.”

“What’s that, gringa?”

I showed my teeth in a feral grin. “What do you want me to tell your mother when I drop her idiot son’s body on her doorstep?”

He came at me and I let him take my left wrist, using his momentum to pull him in and my knee into his gut above where he brought his hand to guard his groin and I fisted his hair as he bent over, jerking his head over and back at a vicious angle. “Did you think I was going for your dick?” I laughed. 

He bellowed and lunged, ripping out a chunk of his own hair in my fist, trying to tackle me to the ground and I dropped, using my lower center of gravity and exploded up, headbutting him in the nose. He reflexively pulled back with a scream of pain, finally releasing my wrist and I followed, unwilling to let him find his balance, pressing my advantage with jabs and knees, keeping close until I got an opening and came up with an explosive palm strike to the jaw that drove his jaws together with a clack and another pained cry as he probably bit some part of his mouth. He fell to the ground, knocking his head on the pavement.

I shook a knife from my pocket, and flipped the blade out. “Run, before you have no dick to wet, dumbass,” I snarled.

He did, and I stood panting in the alley for two breaths after he rounded the corner when I heard polite applause behind me. I spun, still on guard with my knife readied in front of me, to see a figure behind me.

“That was not what I expected.” He was costumed, largely in black, with the white accents of boots, gloves, and a cape with hood. A breastplate over his chest bore the mark of a crescent moon. 

“Yeah, that’s been going around.”  

“ You do that a lot , cariña ?”

I switched to English. “We move on from gordita then?”

I could see the lift of his brow, even through the cowl. 

“Did your boss think I needed a rescue, Moon Knight? Or was it the girl I already saved you were here for?” I started back down the alley, trying to suppress my limp. Abuela Carmen would be wondering what had happened to me.

“You can see him?” He turned to follow me.

“No. But I can kinda feel him.” I vaguely waved in the general direction of a nearby roof top. I rounded the corner and stopped, my leg spasming at the sudden action, feeling a presence suddenly in front of me. “Creepy, dude.” I moved around the big sort of thing in front of me, and I felt a strange sort of …approval?

The man behind me gave a low and dark chuckle that I felt slide up from the base of my spine like a warm hand. I somehow managed to suppress the shiver. Fuck he had a good voice.  

I stopped and looked back at him. “To answer your question, no. I’m not that talented, but your boss is …big, in a way. Intense.” We got back to the dumpster and I shooed a dog off that had ambled up to check it out before I picked up the bag to toss in the bin.

He chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I hear you’re looking for me.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

I heard the door behind us and turned to see Abuela Carmen bustling out the door. “Where have you been? Your man has been inside waiting for you,” she chuckled as I rolled my eyes. Then she gasped, “What happened! Why are you bleeding, hija?!”

“Am I? Where?” I looked down at my hands, wondering if I’d busted my knuckles at some point, though I generally avoid face strikes for that reason. Then, I felt a trickle down my forehead.

She indicated a spot on her own head, maybe an inch above the hairline. I reached a hand up and, sure enough, there was a warm, wet, stickiness in my hair. “Huh. Must have caught his teeth when I headbutted him.”

“Whose teeth? Yours?!” she spun on the man behind me and I turned to see he was no longer in costume and adjusting his flatcap. “How were you involved, bigotito?!”

I snicked at the nickname.

He stroked the mustache in question defensively. “Abuelita, you wound me.”

“I’ll do more than that if you hurt the first good help I’ve had around here since Margarita had her baby!” She waggled a finger in his face. “I suppose you expect me to feed you now, too, Jake Lockley!”

I laughed. “He didn’t have anything to do with it. Showed up at the end and walked me back. Sometimes, I find my own trouble, Carmen.”

She planted her hands on her hips and squinted up at me. “Well, is the fool at least worse off than you?”

I grinned. “I doubt he will be harassing another service worker trying to do their job any time soon.”  

Jake gave me a look, but I wasn’t paying close attention with the ‘whatever the hell was attached to him’ brooding over me with an energy that I could only describe as rapacious. I shuddered and waved a hand around my head as though a fly or mosquito were buzzing around.

“Sarah?” Jack was coming through the back door, probably having heard our discussion, even if he didn’t know what we were saying. “Sarah, what happened?!” He was across the alley tugging me under the light by the door, then his hands were on either side of my head, manipulating my hair and trying to see the damage.

“Jack, chill. You know head wounds always bleed the worst. I’m fine.” I looked over and Carmen was giving me a triumphant look. I groaned and pointed at her. “Don’t you start this again, you old busybody.”

She gave me an innocent look that didn’t temper her shit-eating grin. “I only say what I see, hija.” She patted my shoulder with a patronizing air. “Come on inside and your man can clean you up while I feed this other ingrate.”

“He’s not ‘my man’, Carmen!”  

She just cackled and we all followed her inside. 

Jack tugged me over to a sink.

“Jesus, Jack, not a kitchen prep sink. I’ll just go in the bathroom.”

“You won’t be able to see it, Sarah, let me help,” he said very reasonably, following me. 

“Not exactly a two person space.” I opened the door to the small bathroom. “I’ve got this, Jack.”

He crowded me through the bathroom door so I couldn’t close it between us. “Why? Why do you always need to ‘have it’, Sarah? It makes sense for someone to help you. Just let me.”

I was already still keyed up from getting myself into an alley fight not ten minutes earlier. And having someone bully themselves into my personal space after having some thing like whatever worked with Moon Knight loom over me so closely my aura felt raw was not doing me any favors. I wrapped my arms around myself, taking a step back. “I need you to back off, Jack. Please. I don’t know if I can handle being touched right now.”

He paused and regarded me for a long moment. He lowered and then sat on the closed lid of the toilet beside the sink. “Sarah, please tell me how to help you.”

“Jack, it’s a little cut on my head. It’s probably already stopped bleeding. It’s not something to make a big fuss over.”

“Then why are you?” His expression was open and blunt and I blinked. “Look,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I get not wanting to be fussed over, but wouldn’t it just be easier to let someone else clean that up for you real quick than arguing about it? Especially when you’ve got the guy you’ve been looking for out there waiting.”

I took a deep breath, turned on the water, and bent my head over the sink with my face turned toward him and closed my eyes. He gingerly used the warm water to rinse the blood from the front of my hair and dabbed at it with paper towels until he could see the damage. “What the hell? Who bit your head ?”

“Not so much ‘bit’ as I took some collateral damage from a headbutt.” I grinned, my eyes still closed. “Broke his nose, though.”

He chuckled. “Atta girl.” He poked around it a little more and pressed the paper towels to it until he was sure the bleeding was stopped. “Explains a lot of the blood. Doesn’t look like anything that needs stitches.”

“Probably.”

He sighed and turned off the water. “What did you get yourself into?”

I shrugged as he guided my head back up so I wouldn’t knock my head on the faucet. “Dude was roughing up a girl. Paid her for a blowjob and was trying to force her to give up something else. I told him he could walk away and he took exception to it.”

He frowned. “You got hurt sticking up for a hooker?”

“So what if she was working the oldest profession.” I gave him a level look. “I defended someone from unwanted sexual advances. It doesn’t matter if he rented space in her mouth for five minutes, he doesn’t get to put his dick somewhere else.” He held up his hands in surrender and I walked out.

Straight through Moon Knight’s boss. I shuddered, staggered against a nearby table and nearly threw up. What the hell was that? Jack was right behind me and pulled out a chair, nudging it behind me. 

Carmen brought me an ice pack, pressing it to my head. “You must have got your head hit harder than you thought, hija.” She tilted my face toward the light, I think watching my pupils. “At least your eyes look okay.”

The other man was watching me closely over his bowl of posole, tossing occasional furtive glances at the presence in the corner. Then it was behind him. I didn’t understand how I could feel it at all, let alone have it affect me that strongly, nothing ever did, but whatever kind of entity it was that Moon Knight answered to, he absolutely repulsed me. I didn’t know if his seeming interest was because of or in spite of that, but I wasn’t keen to find out.

When I felt like I had my shit generally together, and Jack had time to wolf down three bowls of posole with supersoldier efficiency, I excused myself, having had quite enough excitement for one evening. I stopped briefly by the other man, now chatting with Abuela Carmen and drinking a beer. “I imagine you will have a way to find me for that discussion we didn’t have tonight, Señor Lockley.” I offered him a business card.

He took my hand, then took the card from my fingers with the other. “Doubt I will be able to leave you alone, cariña .” He gave a playful smile and laid a flirty kiss to my knuckles and Abuela Carmen made a little pleased noise at Jack’s grunt as he turned to open the door for me.

“ I’ll see you tomorrow, Carmen .” I said offering her a hug.

She shook her head. “ Take a day ,” she said giving me a squeeze. “ Come for dinner with the family tomorrow night, hija .”

“Sure.”

Jack followed me out onto the street. “Did you get a concussion? You don’t look good.”

“My head hurts, but it doesn’t feel like a concussion or one of my cluster headaches. Maybe I’m coming down with something. I feel like shit. Probably just need some sleep.” 

He offered me his arm, per usual, and I was content to take it. He had stopped wearing the duster so often as his body condition had improved and the soft skin of the crook of his elbow and inner forearm had become reassuringly familiar under my hand. “What’s on your mind, sug?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar, but it’s fine if you aren’t ready to talk.” 

We were halfway back to his motorcycle before he spoke again. “I worry about you, you know.”

“I do,” I acknowledged, waiting for him to continue.

“You take risks, even when you don’t have backup.”

“I do. But, never thoughtlessly.”

“And, then, you didn’t want me to help you, and that…” He sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair. He had asked me to cut it and now the brown waves were combed back in a side part that was often falling a little over one side of his forehead as he had trouble leaving it alone. I’d discovered over the last few weeks of spending more daylight hours in a warmer clime that Jack, while his healing factor ensured he didn’t burn, had that sort of complexion that tanned into a golden undertone, while his brown hair sun-bleached, eventually giving him that unusual effect of going a bit monochromatic with enough time in the sun. He looked good, healthier and more at ease than he had been when we’d met several weeks ago, if still a little stiff, and infinitely broody. A bit like a young, particularly buff Marlon Brando in his jeans and snugly fitted black t-shirt. Less Mad Max now and more The Wild One. 

“You’ve wanted, expected me to trust you.” We reached the bike and he pulled a helmet and his duster from the locked side compartment. He always insisted that I wear both, but I wasn’t going to argue with him over safety gear. “But you won’t do the same.”

“I do trust you, Jack,” I said, shrugging the duster into place even having room for my pack under it. I rather liked the heaviness of it settled over my shoulders, like a weighted blanket.

“In a fight, yeah.” He mounted the bike and held his hand out to me.

I got on behind him, tucking the duster around me so it wouldn’t get caught in the wind. “It feels like there’s a ‘but’ there, Jack.” I tugged the helmet on and rested my hands on his shoulders, giving him a couple taps of my fingers to let him know I was ready.

“You said you were waiting for me to figure out what I was comfortable with. But I don’t think that’s all there is to it.” He took my hands and pulled them around his waist and immediately cranked the engine before I could offer an answer. Then we headed back to the campground.

I clenched my fists where they sat against his stomach, keeping the tails of the duster between us. Room for both Jesus and my sanity. Because he wasn’t wrong. I didn’t trust Jack and the need I felt off him, and I didn’t trust myself with it. I was a ‘fixer’ by nature and I knew it. I drew in people like him like a magnet, lonely and unloved and brimming with self-loathing. He was yet another ‘stray cat’ as Nat would say, and I couldn’t afford him getting attached. 

I wanted to. I was lonely, too. Not because I had no one, but because I missed all my people, missed their love and affection and closeness. Playing with Wanda’s hair while we watched Pietro speedrun a video game, snacks appearing and disappearing in front of him so fast it seemed like teleportation, and dragging him with me grocery shopping the next day to make him carry everything. Wine nights full of office gossip and afternoon power naps curled up with Nat, when she needed touch enough to want to hold me or felt vulnerable enough to let me hold her. Even evenings reading on the couch with Loki, or quiet conversations by the fire, talking about fraught relations with family and adventures in freedom outside it.

And I missed the men I loved. 

I missed Steve and the abashed smile that would light up his face when I caught him watching me. How he treated me like an equal in any conversation and valued my views, strengths and competence, even with his rabid desire to protect me. How he would actually listen when we talked politics, and his quiet power and stubbornness when he had decided what was the ‘right thing’ in any situation. And I loved how all that stoicism that kept his public persona shiny and pristine melted for me. How he liked nothing better than making me feel safe and beautiful with the intensity of his gaze and the strength of his body curled around me. The deep satisfaction he felt when I trusted him enough to be weak, and the wonder he felt that I gave him space and permission to do the same. That I understood him when that weakness made him feel greedy and possessive and the adoration he felt at the way I could draw out what he needed in the moment and give it to him willingly, bringing him back to himself gently with my love and my touch.

And, I missed Bucky. I missed him like a piece of myself, a phantom limb that ached whenever I thought about it. I missed the easy familiarity we had built between us over months of friendship. Days and weeks of building trust, talking and listening to anxieties and fears and hopes. Mornings and afternoons of cooking together, sharing space in the kitchen like a dance. Evenings of movies or bingeing TV shows or trading books and heatedly debating whether this or that ship was valid or just a problematic fav, and rage at this or that author for some plot choice (or lack thereof). Laughing at me watching British Bake-off and yelling at the screen like he and Steve did when they watched baseball. Holding and comforting each other, bringing each other back to the present when the past dragged us under in the dark of the night. The way our bodies called to each other, countless little moments of unconscious, gentle touches, needing and seeking each others’ touch and comfort, like halves of a whole or magnets drawn together by an invisible force.

I couldn’t turn that need on Jack, even though my body ached and my skin crawled with the need of it. I suddenly felt so tired. I knew I could press myself into the warmth of his broad back, splay my hands over the muscled planes of his abs, sink into the wash of startled, shy happiness he would feel at my affection and it taking a physical turn. And, I knew he would let me. He would welcome me taking whatever I wanted and accept whatever I would give in return. I knew because I’d felt it from him a dozen times. That familiar ‘stray cat’ pain of someone reaching out and offering care to him and the recoil of distrust, ‘knowing’ in his heart that he didn’t deserve it, but daring to hope for just a moment he could have it anyway. That yearning to lean into any shape of being wanted or valued so badly it made him careless of the cost.

I couldn’t use him like that, depend on him and use him as a surrogate for my found family. Because I knew he was vulnerable, and if I did, it would make me no better than the person who did it to me once. Worse, because I knew what it was like when that person left you feeling like you weren’t enough, because you were just a substitute for what they really wanted.

“Sarah? Hey, you okay back there?” I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice when we reached the campground. It was quiet hours, so Jack had stopped at the entrance and turned off the engine. He was nudging me. I was shivering. Why did I feel cold? I realized my eyes were closed and then I realized where I was. My helmeted head was resting between his shoulder blades, my hands splayed over his chest. 

I pulled back with a start. “Shit!” I all but fell off the bike, only steadied by Jack reaching out for my arm, hurriedly dismounting himself.

“Sarah! Jesus, be careful.” He tried to steady me with his hand on my arm, but I winced with how hard he squeezed trying to keep a hold of me as I staggered backward. “You okay?” I felt disoriented, thoughts and memories spinning in my brain unbidden.

How did that happen when I was thinking about not touching him? “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry!” What the fuck was happening to me? I felt fine before. I know I didn’t hit my head that hard. My breathing sped up. Did that thing do something to me?

“It’s okay!” he reached out again and gripped one of my hips to steady me before he let go of my arm and put it around my waist, pulling me close, but not touching. “Hey, you’re okay. No harm done, doll-”

A feline scream interrupted him and I turned my head to see Lokitty tearing up the path like hell itself was behind her, eyes wide and shining emerald in the dark. Were they glowing?

I felt sick. “Ugh…” I whined. “Lemme go, Ja…” My breath hitched, “fuck I’m gonna be sick…” he did and I spun to stagger to the side of the path to fall on my hands and knees as Lo planted herself beside me growling. As my gorge rose, she gave the most hate and rage filled sound into the empty night I had ever heard, hissing and spitting while I emptied myself on the ground and Jack knelt beside me, pulling off the helmet, thank god it was open face, and rubbing my back reassuringly. 

Eventually, my stomach admitted the fact there was nothing else inside and gave up dry heaving. Jack helped me sit up as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fuck, maybe I do have a concussion,” I panted. “I haven’t been that sick since I was pregnant with my daughter.” My entire body was trembling from the effort it had just given.

Lo put her paws on my shoulder and was rubbing her head over my cheek, her purrs high and anxious in my ear. I raised a hand to her cheek, “It’s okay, sweetie.”

Jack was still kneeling next to me, a hand on my back. “Let’s get you back to the van.” 

I nodded, swaying a little as the world swam around me. I tried to get up but my leg wasn’t listening and I slumped over against him. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay, doll. I’m gonna help you now, okay?”

I nodded and he scooped me up in a bridal carry, Lo anxiously leading the way. It felt like my head was underwater and splitting open at the same time. It felt like some of the worst days after my injury, like my very bones were on fire. It felt worse than any touch-starved day I’d ever had, like my skin was covered in fire ants and acid, stinging, burning, crawling like it would come off my bones. I felt empty, wrung out, like something inside me was suddenly missing. God, it hurt so much.

He set me down, steadying me with an arm around my waist as he took my keys and opened the door for me. I shrugged off his duster and he took it, then he helped me shrug off my bag and slung it up in the front seat. I sat in the doorway shivering as I pulled the first aid kit from under the passenger seat. I was freezing, like I could never be warm again and I knew it wasn’t that cold. Lo was walking back and forth rubbing her length against my back and Jack knelt in front of me. 

He grabbed the pen light out of the kit and made me look while he shined it at me, “Your pupils are still reacting and even. I don’t think it’s a concussion.”

“I don’t know if it’s physical.” If Moon Knight’s patron had done something to me, no hospital was going to be able to help me anyway. 

He looked confused. “You look all washed out and you’re shaking like you’re going into shock. Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“You know I can’t.” I shook my head. “I’m gonna take this and get some sleep.” I popped some pain pills and cold medicine for good measure and he reached behind me for my water bottle to wash it all down.

“Are you sure, Sarah?”

I nodded, putting the kit back with shaking hands.

“Okay, I’m going to go back and get the bike.” He set a reassuring hand on my knee. “I’ll just be a few minutes, and then I’ll be here for whatever you need.”

“Okay.” He started to get up and I touched his wrist. He froze and looked down at me again. “Thanks, Jack.”

He smiled, and I felt just a spark of something warm inside me again. “Don’t mention it, doll.” Then he headed back up the path.

My vision swam and Lo nudged my arm with her paw. Why was I so cold?

“I know, Lo. I’m trying.” I crawled up into the van, shutting the door behind me. My pants were a struggle as I sat on the bed. She rubbed up against my belly under my shirt and I peeled it off, not understanding why she needed me to get undressed when I was freezing. Then she started digging and pulling at the bedding with her paws, dragging the covers back and the darkness claimed me.

Chapter Text

Bloody Overvoid scum! How dare he touch things that don’t belong to him! She’s mine! 

Lokitty tugged furiously at the comforter with teeth and claws, trying to pull it over the unconscious, shaking form of her friend. Her friend. Her human. Hers! Months of work, feeding energy, feeding magic in steady trickles. Trying to heal her body, taking her pain, strengthening her mind and her nascent ability, so weak and pitiful anything but crumbs at a time would have burnt her away. Working so slowly she barely noticed the increase in her sensitivity, her stamina, slowly building her ability to handle the power, her capacity to hold it inside. 

Astoundingly, she didn’t even need tutoring, somehow tapping the small reserves she was given unconsciously with the fine control she had in the inherent connection between her mind and body. She had even used it to push her own body past its meager capacity as she had the last time those people had tried to catch her. Lokitty had never been more proud of a choice than when this weak little human had managed to forge a magical item straight from the bond between them, built of but a few weeks of quiet evenings spent in company and nights sleeping side by side receiving crumbs of magic in exchange for the offerings of food and care made. An item made and given with the Power of a Name and strong enough to bind her.

Even if the item was a collar. Even if it kept her bound in this weak, ineffectual feline form. Even if it bound Lokitty in the same way the magic bound the woman to her. No matter what other friends or lovers either of them had now or took in the future. They were connected in their souls, as real as any contract, or marriage binding, deep as any love match or soulmating. Lokitty still didn’t fully comprehend how it had been accomplished, but for reasons she didn’t truly understand, she had no desire to leave this woman she had come to love.

And Lokitty did love her. She loved this guilelessly considerate, empathetic, caring, generous, intelligent, strong-willed little human with all of her being. Amazed by how she perpetually thought of others in ways that were uniquely understanding and full of love, in ways that were unfathomable to those she touched. Her open heart that always seemed to have room for one more connection. Her foolish trust in the nature of people. The gentleness in her hands. Her cutting wit. The way she could turn ruthless in a moment, but immediately soften again when a blade was no longer needed, and all of it was utterly genuine. All to protect those around her, even ones she didn’t know, with a fierceness that belonged to a thousand berserkers, not one small woman.

Lokitty marveled at her human, not only for her nature, but for the way she used pure intent to guide the power she was given without word or rune or gesture, using it for magic though fully unschooled. The deep care she could imbue into a simple meal that you could feel in your soul when you tasted it. It was like she could heal spirits and minds with her touch, with her care, with things she made, even before she had been gifted actual magic, simply with her will and intention. The best offerings were always the ones she made with her own hands. She called it small magic, kitchen magic. Intention, material, performance, time. But, it was real to those around her. As real as the seiðr Lokitty had given her.

Now she was dying. Lokitty could feel it, feel her slipping away, her spirit torn and bleeding out, lying here freezing, shivering, stripped of seiðr, her very life force tattered in the process. That crass Overvoid bastard ripped it from her, tore her spirit open, brutalizing something that should only be affected with the deftest touch, if ever! All that delicate work of months wasted, leaving her friend shaking and weak and nearly empty, barely clinging to the bond between them. If Lokitty broke the collar now while she could, while the bond was weakest, sprang the safety buckle that refused to pop open normally, she could take her normal form and… No, she couldn’t take the risk. Breaking the final thread of the bond between them could cut the woman loose to the afterlife, let alone forcing energy back into her in this weakened state. She was clinging, fighting still, because of course she was, her human knew no other way, but the magic she had done herself and gifted Lokitty was her lifeline in this moment. The cat’s true form was too strong for the delicate touch needed here anyway, just like that skeletal brute.

Lokitty managed to drag a corner of the comforter loose and over her legs and then gave up in frustration, moving to lay stretched the length of her human’s back, desperate to cover as much of her bare skin as could be managed. She reached out to gently touch her friend’s mind as she often did in the night, to coax memories to the surface, protecting her from the nightmares that so often plagued her sleep. Her mind was frayed, casting about in a confused fog of pain and terror. The dusty old buzzard had vandalized her mind, rifling through her emotions and thoughts, too?! Obviously trying to deduce her compatibility to him as a patron. All for what? To destroy her connections and make room for his own offer?! To bind her beautiful soul to a filthy, defunct god, barely connected to his own avatar! He already had an avatar, which was better than most of his pantheon could boast nowadays!

She heard a faint whimper and realized her claws were pressing into the bare skin of the shoulders beneath her and retracted them quickly, licking the pinpricks of blood away apologetically. She felt the bond flare, a spark of blood magic to enforce the fraying thread between them, buying precious moments to find an answer.

Lokitty needed help, needed to meet the needs of her friend’s unique body, so she could begin the process of feeding new seiðr and healing her mind. She thought frantically, warmth was not enough, she could provide that herself. What did she need? What did she truly know and understand about this human’s nature, her human? She thought back to that night in the desert when she had gone to find her friend, when the man, Monroe, had come back to give an offering and said she wouldn’t be back until the morrow. How she followed the bond and found her friend, bare in the arms of a man she seemed to trust in a way Lokitty had never seen. She bared her soul to that half-feral man in the desert night, as bare as her beautiful, broken body pressed to his in the moonlight and he simply comforted her as she wept out a tale of pain and loss that tore a gaping hole in Lokitty that filled in with grief and sorrow and regret and, maybe for the first time in her long life, remorse for something that could never be truly forgiven. 

That story had explained it all. It made her understand there were things a monster could never have. The cat had truly thought to disappear after that. To break the connection and go away forever.

But, she was called back. That connection gently pulled, tugged and drew her back across the sand in the growing light like a siren song, almost against her will, but she could never truly fool herself into believing it was any compulsion. A song of home called to her. The look of relief on her woman’s face broke her. She was powerless for this human. Willing to stay in this weak and near impotent form for the rest of this single human’s life if it meant basking in the light of that love she would never deserve. Her friend had been right all those months ago.

“Is it truly worth it, nisse? For something so fleeting? That brief moment?”

Lo, her Lo, would do anything to preserve that moment, to save her. Every fucking time .

She had stopped shivering, gone still and cold to the touch.

Touch. She needed touch. Connection. Lo knew what she needed to do and she flew from the bed toward the door, hoping she wasn’t too late, hoping it would be enough and yowled with rage again at the ineffectiveness of her current form.

__________________________

Jack set the kickstand on the bike. The van was closed, she must have shut the door when she settled. The back windows were cracked at least. He’d be able to hear easily if she needed help. If she needed him. He started to untie his bedroll, ready to bed down right in front of the van door as he normally did once she was asleep, wanting to be close, but could be gone again as soon as he heard her move about in the morning. He would be close as she would allow, if she needed him.

Then he heard the cat, yowling as though it were in pain. He looked back over his shoulder to see the van shaking, rocking, the cat yowling like it was trying to escape.

Or, get his attention.

“Sarah?” He dashed over. “Sarah, what’s going on?” He tugged at the door. It was locked. “Sarah, the door’s locked!”

The shade started moving. The cat’s head shoving it up until he could see her, sprawled awkwardly, and not even fully, on the bed in her underwear. He tried to listen past the blood rushing in his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t hear her. Then he heard a click and he looked to the side to see the cat at the passenger door, pulling the old lock knob up with her teeth. “Oh, smart girl!” he hurried up and through the passenger door and scrambled over the console into the back.

The cat was already back on the bed, nudging and meowing and licking at Sarah’s face.

“Fuck…” He rolled her over, she was ice cold, he could hear her now, breath shallow, heartbeat slow and thready, but she was alive. She was so cold. He had to warm her up. Turn on the heater. Where were her keys? His eyes cast about the tiny space. “Fuck!” There was no time. 

“Sorry, You’ll have to forgive me later for manhandling you, doll.” He moved her, tucking her under the sheet and light thermal blanket and pulling down the heavy down comforter that was folded on the corner shelf. The cat was pawing at him, biting and tugging at his shirt roughly. “Okay, okay, I got it.” He peeled his shirt off and kicked off his boots, crawling in beside her and pulling her into the curve of his body. 

God, she’s so cold. “Sarah? C’mon, I’ve got you now. I don’t know if you can hear me, but you gotta fight, doll. You gotta fight this, whatever it is.” He spooned her, enveloping her as much as he was able against his body. He felt the cat shimmy under the covers and settle below his arms against her legs and stomach, still making that high pitched purr that he could feel in his brainstem like his own panic. 

It felt like forever, but she started to shiver, her teeth chattering. “Atta girl. I got you, not gonna give up on you. You just keep on fighting like anything, you hear me?” He squeezed her and she finally moved, somehow giving a little shift that seated her even deeper, more snug like she instinctively knew how to fit the mold of his body and his breath hitched at the feel of her letting him hold her, cold though she was, shaking like she’d come apart.

He rested his cheek on hers, nuzzling against her without even realizing he was doing it. “I’m here, doll. Gonna help you. Anything you need. We’re gonna get you through this. Me and Lo, we're not letting you go.” The cat raised her head to look at him and gave a little noise he thought was acknowledgement before settling in again. I wish I knew your real name, sweet girl…

Eventually, her body calmed again, her breathing evening out as the shaking subsided, her heartbeat getting more steady even though it was still weak and slow. He let out a shaky breath, still afraid to relax his hold even a little as he nuzzled his face along her neck and behind her ear, hoping she’d respond. She made a little noise, leaning into his touch and something inside him melted, just dissolved into a puddle and he wanted to cry with relief. “Fuck, just the bravest girl I know. Scared the shit outta me, doll.”

He stayed, unwilling to move or leave her side, afraid she would slip away if he did, go cold again without him there to keep her warm. He eventually sank into the warmth himself and the feel of her skin against his. He couldn’t remember anything feeling like this, it felt good and he wished it was something he could have, wished it was something she’d wanted.

He drifted until he felt her move and started to extricate himself, thinking she was waking up and didn’t want her to panic to find herself undressed with him in her bed. It seemed like she understood everything, but that might be a lot even for her. But she just turned to face him, and he froze. Eyes never opening, she nuzzled into him, her breath ruffling the hair on his chest, and something tightened in panic and then exploded in his chest and it felt so good as she faded deeper into sleep again that he pressed his face into her hair and thought he might die from her touch and the feel of her safe and warm again, wrapping his arms around her in relief. He felt warm fur stretched the length of her back. He let his hand rest on the cat’s side and felt its head rest on his arm behind her.

_________________________

Lokitty reached into her friend’s mind, sifting loosely through the settling jumble for something connected. A close experience. Something that wouldn’t jar her friend awake physically. She pulled at a memory. Yes, this. She reached for the mind of the man sleeping in the bed, keeping her human warm and safe while she worked. She willingly wasted the seiðr needed to form a connection with words, needing to save time. Her human cared too much about consent, even in life and death, and would never forgive her for not asking.

What would you do to save her, soldier both failed and lost?

Anything. I said that already. Anything she needs.

If she needs your feelings, your body?

What do you mean?

If I need to use you, if your soft sentiments for her could help hold her spirit on this plane and your touch could hel-

I said I’d do anything, dammit! Can you help her?

I believe I can. For both our sakes.

Then, do it!

So be it. Whatever you do, do not wake her, or it will be Your Last Failure.

She pulled her human into a dream of her beloved toy soldier, softly, gently nudging it, needing it to lull her, wrap her mind in a warm, hazy pleasure full of soft feelings, so she would not feel the pain of refilling her seiðr quickly as the man helped hold her spirit and mind in the confines of her body like a tourniquet. He would willingly spare just a little of his abundant energy, a little death for her life. A little sweetness to make the medicine go down.

_________________________

Jack came back toward consciousness again to a feeling like he was floating, his skin ablaze, a tight pressure in the pit of his stomach, at the base of his spine, and in his pants. He felt drugged, drunk, or how he imagined those things would feel, he’d never managed to drink hard enough to be more than a bit buzzed. God, he felt so good . His breath left in a sigh and he shifted into the feeling of it a little to the sound of a soft moan that made his ears tingle. He froze, coming fully awake. Then he looked down and thought he’d die all over again.

She had shifted again in her sleep, tangling them together, her arm around his waist and gliding up his back, her leg thrown over his hip. His thigh was pressed between hers where she was moving against him in a slow grind. He felt like he should be panicking, stopping her, waking her up, but God save him she was so soft and warm and she was alive and she smelled so damn good and the sounds she was making, fuck, her breath coming in little pants and sighs and soft moans of pleasure and the way her hip kept grinding against his dick so tight in his pants just like that and he’d never felt anything so good in all his life. Not when his Captain told him he had to get his cherry popped that one time in Korea, not in his own hand. He felt the drag of her nails down his spine and… 

“ God, please don’t stop …” he groaned before he could stop himself. He just had to be still. Don’t do anything, don’t chase his own pleasure, let her take what she needed. Just don’t wake her. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just knew he absolutely should not wake her. That something bad would happen if he did.

“Mmmm…,” she sighed, her breath hot on his neck, her breasts pressed against his heaving chest, nipples fighting the confines of her bra. “My Bucky…”

He shuddered. If only he could be Bucky for her… That was the one thing in this whole damn world he was supposed to know how to do. He could do that. He could do that for her. “You feel so good …”  He wanted to be Bucky for her. He wanted to be that lucky sonovabitch so fucking bad. “So sweet to me… Do anything for you,” he groaned, his arm tightening around her waist, tensing his thigh between her legs. He’d be anything, do anything. Just for her to keep touching him, keep making those sounds, let him help her.

Her head fell back with a breathy moan, her body rolling in languid waves against him. “So good… So good to me, Buck…”

She was dreaming, she didn’t know what she was saying, what it did to him, but he didn’t care. It was everything he ever wanted. His hips spasmed and his breath went ragged as he watched her face going loose with pleasure, her breath hitched and panting. “Fuck you’re so gorgeous like this… Letting me take care of you...”

“ Need you… please…” She groaned and her hands moved, then they were buried in his hair, fingers gripping as her nails dragged against his scalp and her hips quickened, rutting greedily over his thigh. 

His hips jerked again and a sound fell from his lips he didn’t know he could make. “All yours, sweets… Take it, take what you need, doll. Anything for you, beautiful,” he pleaded breathlessly against her mouth, not touching, unwilling to be anything in the moment but what she needed him to be. He’d hang here on the edge forever, if that’s what she needed from him.

“Come with me, James… please...” she breathed, and he knew his heart would explode, right then. She took a stuttering inhale, tensed, and the most amazing sound he’d ever heard fell from her lips and he fought back everything inside him that burned to press his mouth to hers and drink it down. She orgasmed, her entire body trembling in his arms as she rode him and he thought he’d never see anything so beautiful ever again as that hot wave of pleasure dragged him under with her, shuddering and biting his lip hard enough to bleed to stifle his ecstatic cry as he came hard for her, clutching her to his body, face against her neck, panting, tears streaming down his face as she slowed again into a gentle grind, knowing he could never tell her how she gave him a moment where every fantasy he ever had came to life and even if she never knew it she made him feel like he had done one thing right and good in his whole damn life. Saving her.

________________________

Lokitty watched them with glowing green eyes as they descended from their high and purred in pleasure herself, knowing her human, her woman, her friend, was safe, and would be even stronger when she had fully recovered. And until then, this lost soldier would help keep her safe, having willingly bound himself tightly to her, and by extension, Lokitty herself. She laid herself along her friend’s back, knowing she would need the continued contact until she woke, and all three fell into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter Text

I was warm. So warm. Hot breath on my neck and firm arms around me, pressed to a broad, bare chest, and a hazy glow of affection all over. I sighed into the feeling of it. Lips grazed the edge of my ear, a voice rough with sleep. “You’re okay, sweets.” 

I snapped fully awake, not immediately recognizing the voice, trying to pull away. “I’ve got you, doll, you’re safe.”

I struggled against his hold until I got a glimpse of his face, a wash of worry from him. “Jack?!”

He let me go and I sat up, feeling another tangled wash of concern from him. “Sarah, it’s okay.”

“Why the hell are you in my bed?!”

“You’ve been asleep for days, doll. You nearly died.” 

“What?” Then, it started coming back. “At Carmen’s… Something happened… I got hurt, felt sick as hell on the way back.” He nodded, waiting for me to put it together. “I remember getting back to the van, I was so cold… Did I pass out?”

He nodded, sitting up. “Heard the cat in here with you when I brought the bike back. She was crying and yelling somethin’ fierce. I saw through the shades you weren’t moving and your genius cat unlocked the passenger door for me before I busted a window. You were barely breathing and hypothermic.”

Just then, I heard a yowl. Jack leaned far over the edge of the bed and I saw he had pants on at least as he pulled the side door open and Lo jumped in and over his back into my lap. He pushed the door shut again while she put her paws on my shoulders and rubbed her face all over mine.

I scratched her vigorously, burying my hands in her mane. “Sounds like you both saved my life, then.” I looked up and met his eyes. “Thank you.”

I felt something so intensely proud from them both. “I just kept you warm. You’re the one that fought like hell.”

I looked down at myself, still in my bra and underwear from the other night, then I caught a little whiff of myself. “How long was I out?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Three days?! Oh, gods, Carmen is probably worried sick!”

“Don’t worry, once you were out of the woods the two of us took shifts staying with you, and I went into town for food. Gave her an update. Was gonna go back this evening.” He chuckled. “Can you just worry about yourself for once?” 

I pushed my hair back and caught another whiff of myself. “In that case, I need a damn shower.” I crawled across the bed and as I got to the edge my head swam again.

“Easy.” Jack caught me around the waist before my face could hit the floor and sat back again leaning me against his body. “Y’know, for somebody so good at taking care of people, you sure are bad at following your own advice,” He teased.

“So I’ve been told, but I can’t imagine you wanna keep smelling this.”

“Doesn’t bother me that much.” He hugged me and another wave of affection and relief rolled over me, strong enough to make me blush. “How about we get some food and water in you, and then I’ll help you down to the shower house or get you some water so you can clean up. Whatever you need, doll.” 

My stomach growled then, quelling any protest I might have been working up. “Fair enough.”

“Good.” he tugged the cooler over. “Pretty sure there’s a torta left in here that Carmen gave me the other day.” He passed me my water bottle while he dug around.

I took a swig and looked at Lo, now curled up in my lap like she had zero plans of moving. Ever. I took to petting her diligently with one hand, my whole lap vibrating while I sipped the water with the other. Jack produced said sandwich and once I got a couple of bites in me, the rest disappeared in short order. He sat next to me while I ate, lounging back bare chested and barefoot, just the top button undone on his jeans, looking for all the world like he was paying rent or something. If he was anyone else I might have considered it inviting. “You look awfully comfortable.”

He gave me a look. “I mean, it’s been pretty nice not sleeping on the ground. I don’t think I’ve slept this much out of cryo, honestly.”

“So, this is my first look at both a fed and well-rested Jack Monroe?”

“Guess you could say that.” He sat up again. “Something wrong, doll?”

“You might feel close to me right now, having been very up close and personal, but please bear in mind that while you were worrying over me, I was unconscious. I passed out alone, and woke up with a man several degrees friendlier and more handsy than I remember, shirtless and making himself comfortable in my bed. It’s a little disconcerting.”

He frowned. “Are you kicking me out?”

“I’m asking you to bear in mind that whatever degree more comfortable you feel in my presence now as opposed to three days ago, it isn’t based in actual interaction. I wasn’t present for and didn’t experience any of it.” 

He looked defeated, and there was a deep undercurrent of sadness I didn’t expect. “Sorry. I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I can imagine it’s an uncomfortable thing to sort on both sides.” I felt like I kicked a dog, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be sorry that I’d reinforced that boundary.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How are you feeling now?”

“Head still hurts like hell and I feel a little weak generally, but it’s manageable, I think.”

“Saw Lockley while I was in town. He asked about you and said he wanted to talk when you were up for it.”

“Let me see how I feel after that shower.” I shifted to the edge of the bed again and leaned over to pull out the cubby where I kept my shower caddy and bathrobe, setting a change of clothes and a towel on top of the caddy. Didn’t get dizzy this time. Yay for adequate blood sugar!

“He said preferably in daylight.”

I cocked a brow, looking out the window, it was late in the afternoon. “Noted.” If the Knight of the Moon wanted to meet in daylight, I would be more than willing to oblige. Particularly if my suspicions about his patron were close to accurate. 

I slipped my robe on over my underwear and then the flipflops from my caddy “If I’m not back in 30… well, maybe an hour, you can send the search party, okay?” 

They both watched me slip a blade into my robe pocket and open the door, stepping down carefully. My legs seemed to be doing their job and I was more than happy to take it slow, minding my steps carefully on the way to the bathhouse. Lo padded along beside me, obviously deciding I needed looking after. She sat dutifully by the door as I went in to make myself civilized again.

When I came back out, Jack was waiting there with her, leaning back against the wall. He would have surprised me if I hadn’t been able to feel his worry before I opened the door. “Feeling better?” 

I gave him a longsuffering look. “It’s only been 40 minutes, Jack.”

“I didn’t come in after you, did I?”

I rolled my eyes. “As grateful as I am for you both, you are going to have to start treating me like normal again.” 

Lo meowed at me, flicking her tail.

“Yeah, well, you almost died.” He reached out and took the shower caddy from me, and offered his arm. “So, the first day back on your feet ain’t it.”

I chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair.” I felt that usual little flush of pride from him as I took his arm, and a little bit of something that felt like relief, but still that little bit of sadness with a twinge of something that felt like resignation. At least he had the good judgment to respect me enough to let me walk, even though I could feel the intensity of his desire to care for me mixed with impatience, probably wanting to just scoop me up and carry me, rather than slowing his pace even more than usual to accommodate my tired limp.

This Jack with the touch barrier broken was going to take some getting used to. The intensity and breadth of emotions I was feeling off of him was surprising. Heavier than most people I had known for the same amount of time, but I hadn’t spent the better part of three days cuddled up skin-on-skin with most of them either. Prolonged skin contact left me far more attuned to a person, but it tended to be a temporary spike that faded more quickly the less emotional attachment I held.

By the time we reached the van five minutes later, I was ready to go back to sleep, exhaustion creeping into my bones for just that small exertion. I could feel the resigned disappointment at the lack of invitation but Jack accepted it without comment. By not acknowledging the moment outwardly.

“Gonna go into town, let Carmen know you’re awake. Tell Lockley you’ll meet him.” 

“Tell him to come here tomorrow around noon,” I said, pushing the duvet aside and crawling into bed. “I don’t see myself moving again before tomorrow.”

“You could take another day to rest up.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to spend more than another couple of days here. Time to head back north.”

“Okay.”

He left and I shut the door behind him before flopping back on the bed. Lo hopped up and gave a questioning little trill. I rubbed my face with one hand. “What the fuck happened, Lo? I feel like I got taken apart and put back together. The only thing I can think is Moon Knight’s patron, whatever entity it is, did something to me.”

She growled, low and mean, tail lashing, before she came and settled on top of me.

“I’m sorry you were so worried, Lo.”

She rubbed her head under my chin.

I kissed her head and scratched deep in her mane. “Thank you, sweetie.”

She purred loud and so deep I could feel the vibration inside my chest.

I slept through the evening, except for Jack waking me when he returned with a big container of albondiga soup from Carmen which I ate quickly and then made a trip to the restrooms before falling back into an exhausted sleep. Eventually, I woke to Lo still on top of me, late the next morning. I felt stiff and heavy, though that could have been from apparently not moving for about 14 hours and having a thirty some-odd pound cat on top of me. She moved and I slipped out of bed with a mental note to change the sheets and do laundry asap.

I slipped into jeans and Bucky’s old tee shirt, wanting the comforting softness of it, even if it didn’t smell like him when I pulled the collar up over my nose anymore. Even in December, it was too warm here during the day for Steve’s hoodie or I'd have worn that too, craving that feeling of connection. I grabbed my toothbrush and I opened the door to see Jack tinkering with his bike. He looked up over the saddle, giving me an assessing look as I climbed out, steadying myself on the doorframe.

“Morning.” He stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just changing the oil. I can do the van, too, if you want.”

“That would be really helpful. Millie’s due, I’m sure, but I don’t think I’m anywhere near ready to crawl around in there. Stuff is in the under bed cubbies through the back door, whenever you get around to it. I try to keep basic stuff on hand in case I’m in the middle of nowhere. No hurry though, sug.”

“No problem, doll. I’ll get it next.” He gave me a little smile that felt shy, hopeful, and sad all at once, and I felt the heat creep up the back of my neck. 

I came back from the bathroom to see him already under the hood. “Jack, you didn’t have to do it right away, we’ll likely be here another day or two before we hit the road.”

“I told you it was no problem. Nice to have something to do.” He tilted his head to look at me over his arm with a smirk. “Been kinda dull without you causing trouble, sweets.”

I smirked back and turned at the sound of tires on dirt to see a white town car pull up to the campsite. Jake Lockley got out of the driver’s door and came around toward us, giving me a smile from under his flat cap that was equal parts relief and mischief. It was charming and flirty, and I reminded myself this man was one to be careful of. 

“Glad to see you well, cariña .” He gave Jack a nod, “Monroe said you’d taken a bad turn after you left the other night.”

“I guess I was pretty out of it for a while. On the mend now, though.” I met him halfway, and offered him a hand to shake. “Thank you for meeting with me out here, Señor Lockley.”

“Please, cariña, Jake.” He took it, giving a gentle but respectful squeeze, though there was that smile again. I swear this man flirted like he breathed.

“I understand you specifically wanted to meet during the day, Jake. I assume it is something to do with your particular… situation?”

He nodded. “Midday is a good choice.”

“Can I offer you a drink while we talk? Water or beer?”

“Water is fine.”

I dipped into the cooler for two bottled waters and tossed him one, leading him to the picnic table, Lo all but glued to my left leg as though she were staking a claim. Jack shifted very slightly, keeping me in view while he worked, now puttering with something else under the hood.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was as surprised by el jefe’s actions as you.”

“Your patron?” He nodded. “Who is he?”

“I’d rather not use his name at the moment.”

I nodded. Even in the opposite side of the day, being named by your avatar is probably a surefire way to get any god’s attention. I sat and Lo sat beside me plastering herself to my hip possessively.

“I have a very small amount of experience dealing with gods, though probably a different pantheon. Is there anything you can tell me?”

“Egyptian. Protector god of the Moon, travelers of the night, couple of other things probably that I don’t know about.”

“Seems weird to be accosted within an inch of my life by a protector god.” I could feel Lo’s tail twitching and lashing against my lower back angrily.

“I wondered if you realized what happened.”

“I know he did something to me. It was like he stole all the energy out of me.”

“El Jefe took a hell of a liking to you with how you handled that pendejo in the alley.” He gave me that smirk that I was pretty sure made more susceptible folk go all tingly. “Have to say I did too, cariña .” He leaned in a little. “Love a girl that can handle herself. Even better when she doesn’t mind getting a little dirty.”

Lo growled at him, and I chuckled, laying a hand on the back of her neck, scratching gently, and she quieted again, though I still felt her tail moving behind me. “And what does that mean, exactly? That he took a liking to me.”

“He got an avatar, but having a high priest again would be a real boost compared to the rest of them.”

“So he tried to kill me? Seems counterproductive.”

“Said something about you already carrying a blessing. A big one. Said he couldn’t make a binding with you as long as you had it.”

I tried to cover my confusion. Not sure if I managed. “So he stripped it, and I had a bad reaction.”

“Sneaky old bird probably thought he could catch you at the last minute. Did that to us, too. A contract in trade for a life.” . 

Lo got more worked up as he spoke and by the time he got to the last few words she had gone full Halloween cat, back arched, ears back, all her hair standing on end to all the way to her erect, bushed-out tail.

He looked at her. “Easy, gatita , el jefe is one thing, but we got nothing but respect for your girl.” He looked at me. The plurals didn’t pass by me. There were some rumors around Moon Knight. That he had different suits, sometimes fought different, whether there was more than one or some other explanation was entirely a matter of speculation. I had my own theory after seeing him in action in the ring.

“But surely seeing me in an alley fight wasn’t enough to take that much of a shine to me. I know that isn’t the first time you and I have met, Jake, but…”

“Sorry if you count the warehouse,” he said. “That was rude.”

“It was a crude moment,” I shrugged. “I mean back in New York. You were my cabbie one night. You checked in on me, made sure I was okay with the gentlemen in my company. I gave you an extra tip for it.” I smiled, it was a good memory. “You dropped me off at Avengers Tower.”

He looked thoughtful for a minute, like he was listening to something, then smirked. “Was it as good a night as it looked?”

My smile got wider. “Better.”

He grinned. “Care to elaborate, hermosa ?”

I laughed, “I have a strict ‘don’t kiss and tell’ policy.”

“Damn shame.”

“Heard that before, too.”

“So, those guys, your…”

“Boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends... are in the wind, and what are you doing, so far from home?”

“Networking. There’s a lot of very talented people who want to help others, but also don’t want to be drafted by the American government.”

“And you are?”

“Facilitating. Seeing that the last people who would normally get help get it, and the people who most want to help get to.”

“Now I get it.”

“What’s that?”

“Why Castle thought you were interesting.”

I chuckled. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”

He smirked. “That’s fair, but I think it was.”

I didn’t bother asking how Moon Knight and The Punisher knew each other. People running in these circles made odd connections with each other all the time.

“And the card you gave me?”

“To express interest in joining the network. To get vetted for the Rolodex, if you will.”

“And who decides missions?”

“Sometimes I coordinate them. Sometimes I get a request for a team. Sometimes something happens and I contact whoever is closest to the action and coordinate a team from there.”

“And when you are…” He got that thoughtful look again, like his attention was divided, “indisposed?”

“First time it’s happened. But, I’m working on a solution.”

“I might have someone for that.”

“Really? Well, I would love to meet them.”

He smirks. “I could probably arrange that.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Turns out he also brought a gift from Carmen of tamales and flan, which I was more than happy to share. Jack finally finished tinkering with Millie and we all ended up talking late into the evening around a campfire. I knew when true night fell because the presence of the moon god in question made itself known. Lo jumped in my lap and did her Halloween cat impression again with an absolutely feral hiss aimed just over Jake’s shoulder.

“Greetings, oh covetous god of the moon and destroyer of blessings,” I said. Lo sat on my thigh, her still fully bushed tail wrapping behind my waist with a low growl. Jake grinned and I got the impression again that he and his boss didn’t have the best rapport.

I heard a voice. Not a voice, but something so nearly that it was the only word I could come up with, so resonant I could feel it in my brainstem. Something that spoke to the old part of my brain, the part that knew to be afraid of the dark. “I am Khonshu. God of the Moon and the Night Sky, Protector of the Travellers of the Night.”

“Weren’t exactly protecting me the other night.” 

Jack was looking at me like I was talking to myself. 

Jake blinked at me. “You can hear him now?”

“Kind of. He tried to correct me and I think he’s full of shit. Why can I hear you now, Khonshu, even though I still can’t see you the way your avatar apparently can?”

“You’re better off, cariña , he’s no looker, for sure.” He smirked in the direction of the presence.

“I have seen your heart, little one. You embody the three. Embracer, Pathfinder, and Defender. You get on well with my avatar. You were meant to carry my seal, to be a moonbeam shining my healing light on this world.”

“I wasn’t meant to do anything. Especially not for someone who nearly killed me.”

“I would not have allowed you to die, little one. Taking my gift would have healed you.” I felt that presence move, from behind Jake to beside him, closer, but not close enough to be alarming, all things considered. It was the focus that was more disconcerting. “Even that in you which is still broken.”

“Gift, my ass. Sounds like a hard sell on a full time job.” I know my face wrinkled in disgust. “I’ll pass. I’ve really got this fetish for consent.” I saw Jake smirk from the corner of my eye. 

“I would have asked had I been allowed near to speak.”

“After you harmed me, damn near killed me yourself, as I’ve been given to understand? That kind of consent barely even rises to ‘dubious’ if you squint at it sideways. No thanks. If you couldn’t come up with an offer good enough to get me while safe, sane and sober, then what the hell would I want with you, moon god?” Jake was grinning again. Seemed like he and his boss really weren’t on a wavelength. Or, he just liked a sassy woman. I was betting both.

“It would be a fate better than the god whose blessing you hold, moonbeam.” His voice held an air of reason, then he said the word ‘moonbeam’ and it sounded like an endearment, with a tenderness that turned my stomach. “I would have been able to show you but for your guard and that beast. They were resourceful in holding you close. I never thought they would resort to blood or love magic to help keep you bound to this plane.”

I blinked and I know my face shut down. The fuck was he talking about? Jake looked like he was watching a tennis match. Or a telenovela on a really wide screen.

“Ah, so they haven’t told you the lengths they took to keep you here.”

Lo’s ears flattened to her skull. I looked at Jack, still looking bewildered at being utterly out of the loop.

“Perhaps if you knew that beast took your blood to further bind you to her, that they used your memories, that beautiful heart and talent you hold, Embracer, perhaps you would not scoff at my proposition.”

“Don’t get it twisted, Khonshu. There will be a conversation about whatever happened while I was out cold.” I felt a sharp twinge of anxiety from the man beside me. “But whatever that was has no bearing on what you did to me. Their actions do not negate or soften yours in the least.” I got up, Lo moving to avoid getting dumped on the ground and planting herself between me and Khonshu, looking ready to attack the empty air. 

I looked at his avatar instead. “Thank you for meeting with me today, Jake. But I think it’s time for us to call it a night.”

He looked at me, then his patron, then Jack and Lo as he got up as well. “Yeah, I think it probably is. Buenas noches. ”

“Good night, Jake.”

Chapter Text

I watched Jake Lockley’s town car pull away, and when the tail lights and Khonshu’s oppressive weight had dissipated in the night, I took a deep breath.

Lo turned to face me and sat as politely as I’d ever seen.

“What was all that? Who the hell is Khonshu?” I heard behind me.

I did my best to keep my voice level and I think it just came out flat. “What happened while I was unconscious, Jack?”

“What do you mean?” He felt wary at the back of my mind.

“I mean exactly what I said. What happened between us while I was unconscious?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jack,” I retorted bluntly. “Why were you in bed with me after three days when you said I was out of the woods? Why have you been acting weird, like you expect us to be something more than friends now? Why can I feel your emotions like…” I felt my fists and my jaw clench. “Why can I feel the emotions projecting off of you like someone I’ve made love with, Jack?”

He startled like I’d slapped him, and I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. “Did you touch me while I was asleep, Jack?”

“No!” My eyes went hard and angry, but he pressed on. “Yes, but not like that ! I held you, but that’s all! I didn’t do anything to you, I swear I didn’t! Not even your clothes, you were already in your underwear when you passed out. My hand to god I didn’t do anything but hold you, try to get you warm.” His eyes looked so hurt. “I wouldn’t do something like that to you, Sarah. I couldn’t…”

“Then what happened?” I didn’t want to know, but I had to.

He sunk back down in his chair. “After you started to get warm…” He bent down over his knees and ran his hands through his hair. “Sarah, you were so cold you had even stopped shivering… By the time you started and stopped shaking again, it felt like hours. I was so scared you’d take a bad turn again, I couldn’t leave you. I guess I finally dozed off. I had a dream, I don’t remember all of it, but I remember I was talking to someone. They asked what I’d do to save you, even if it was my body or my feelings. I didn’t know what they meant,” his eyes met mine in the firelight, “but I told them I’d do anything they needed, if it would save you. It felt so real.”

“Jack…” It felt like a rock sitting in my gut, but for a different reason now.

He looked down again, shaking his head. “I didn’t care, Sarah. I just had to do something.” He took a deep breath, then another, like he was about to take a deep dive. “When I woke up, you were dreaming.” 

I wanted to throw up, suddenly remembering the one solid dream I could recall. “I was dreaming about Bucky.” He nodded and I sat back down heavily. “Oh, gods…”

“All I could think was that I shouldn’t wake you, couldn’t wake you. I think it was in my dream, but something told me if I did it would be really bad.” His face was in his hands.

“What did I do to you, Jack?”

He huffed out one of the saddest laughs I’d ever heard. “Just rode my thigh like a horny teenager, moaning his name. Until we both came in our clothes.”

“Oh, gods, Jack…” I buried my face in my own hands. “Fuck… That’s what he meant?”

“What who meant?”

“Khonshu said his offer wouldn’t seem so bad when I knew you and Lo had used blood and love magic to save me.”

“What offer?” He asked sharply.

“He said something about wanting me to be his high priest, said I was a good match, but I had another god’s blessing on me. He tore it away to make his own bond with me. That’s what happened to me.”

“What god?”

“I don’t know… Jack, I don’t know, and I’m sorry.” I felt the sob creep up from my chest. “Fuck, Jack, I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

“No,” I heard him move and felt his hands, pulling mine away from my face. “You didn’t know what was happening. Hey, look at me.” I looked up and his brown eyes were so soft, looking up into mine from where he knelt in front of me. “It’s okay. I don’t regret it for a second.” 

I met his eyes seriously again. “But, I’m afraid there might be something else to it. What you’re feeling.”

“What do you mean?” Then, his eyes narrowed, though his thumbs rubbed soothingly over the backs of my hands.

I sighed. I never knew how to have this conversation with someone. Probably why I’d only had part of it with Steve and Bucky. “What were you going to ask me the night you asked me to wash your hair?”

He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“A lot when you’re talking about this. I’m an empath. I can sense what you’re feeling.”

“You can read my thoughts.”

I shook my head emphatically. “No. Just tell what you’re feeling on the surface.” I pulled my hands away. “I’m not a strong one, most of my life I just thought I was really good at reading people.”

“That’s how you always seem to know things about people.” He was sitting back on his heels now. “Like when they aren’t being totally honest.”

I nodded. “And if I’m not paying attention, I can sometimes project mine at people.”

“You’re afraid you did that to me. Made me want it.” 

I nodded again. “I’m not strong enough to make someone want or think something they really wouldn’t ever do, my ability isn’t compelling, but it could coax someone past a moment of hesitation. Jack, I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry if you cut a deal with something and that you got caught up in something that didn’t have anything to do with you. I’m sorry I took advantage of y-”

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “You didn’t know what was happening, and I’m not sorry for a second.” He took my hands again. “Saving you might be the one thing I’ve ever done right in my whole life. The only good thing.” He raised my hands toward his face. “And I would do it again a million times.” Then, I watched a teasing smile spread across his lips. “Hell, if all it really cost me to save your life was coming harder than I ever have in my life and a load of laundry, I’d do it every day.”

I groaned through a chuckle. “Gee, thanks, sug.” 

Then, he pressed his lips to my knuckles, that teasing smile still on his lips. “Anytime, sweets.” Then he frowned. “So where did the blood magic come in?”

I looked over his shoulder. “I think that’s a question for her.” Lo gave me a slow blink. “Don’t you try to sweet talk me, you overgrown sootsprite. The fuck did you do?”

“Wait, is your… ability or whatever you call it, the reason you talk to her like she talks back?”

I looked at him. “I think it’s more because she’s not really a cat, or not just a cat. I’m good with animals, but not that good.” I glanced back toward Lo. “Hey! Just where do you think you’re going?!”

She sat again and gave me another slow blink. Extra slow.

“What did I tell you about trying to butter me up? Stop it.”

She meowed at me.

“Yes, I know you helped save my life. Nobody here is arguing that point. I would just like to know what the fuck you did and why that dusty ass bastard was talking sex and blood. And why he called you a spirit animal while we’re at it.”

She gave me airplane ears.

“Fine, ‘love’ not ‘sex’, that’s not better. Don’t be pedantic, you know that’s not going to derail me. What. Did. You. Do to us.” 

She gave a low yowl that was almost a growl.

“No, I don’t expect you to tell me all your secrets. But, if you did something to me or Jack that has lasting effects, it probably shouldn’t be a secret from us, should it?”

She lashed her tail.

“What the fuck, Lo, you know goddamn well that’s not what I meant. Impugning your honor… Consent fetish, remember?!”

She meowed again, her tail twitching.

“Who is being ungrateful?!” I got up and stalked the few steps toward her.

She yowled and flattened her ears, then scratched at her collar.

“Don’t you start that with me. Never not once have I forced you to do anything, including staying with me, and if you think that’s the case I can take the collar off and you can do as you please.”

She fully growled.

My eyes teared up. “Is that really how you feel?” 

She hissed at me. Actually hissed at me, fangs bright in the fading firelight. 

“Okay then.” I squatted down in front of her, my voice small and tight. “If that’s really how you feel, I’m sorry.” I reached out and unbuckled the collar and I felt something, like a rubber band snapping between my fingers. “If you ever want it back I will have it for you.”

She shook herself, then turned tail and ran off into the night.

“LO! I’m leaving day after tomorrow!” I rubbed my hand not holding the collar over my face with an exasperated sigh. “Drama queen.”

“Where is she going?”

“Beats me. Wherever uppity catkin go to sulk, I guess.” I got up, suddenly deeply exhausted again. “I’m going back to bed.”  

Then, I smelled something. “Shit…Well, she can sleep under the van when she comes back if she’s gonna be a hateful wench.”

“What?”

“Smells like rain.”

He sniffed the air. “What are you talking about?”

“It smells a little different in the desert, but yeah.” Just then, that cool, slightly humid breeze swept in. That smell of a front rolling in always reminded me of Thor and it made me smile. Man, I could go for some Thor uppies…

“How did you…?”

I chuckled, opening the van and climbing inside. “One of the three times it rains here during the winter, of course it would happen now.” I grabbed a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and shimmied out of my jeans and into them. Then, I leaned over to look out the door opening again. “Are you coming in or not?”

Jack looked up from untying his bedroll. “What?”

“I get things are a little awkward at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna make you sleep out in the rain, sug.”

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Figured I was in Lo’s club, just sleeping under the van.”

I laughed. “Get in here, Jack.”

He brought his bedroll with him and started climbing up in the front seat.

“What are you doing?”

“Didn’t want to make assumptions.”

“I appreciate that, but I also don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ve slept worse than in the passenger seat.”

“Jack. If you're that worried about propriety now that I’m awake, you can spread your roll on the bed and I’ll zip you up in it.”

He gave me that shy, hopeful smile again and it broke my heart a little. He crawled up beside me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I smirked. “Well, if we shared this bed for three days and the only one who got frisky was me, I should probably be asking you that.”

He laughed and laid down on his back on top of the covers. “Best I can remember sleeping in my life. Never gonna complain about that, doll.”

“Night, Jack.” I settled in on my side, facing away from him.

“G’night, Sarah.”

Something about the whole situation made me nervous, but it wasn’t the man beside me. I knew Jack had told me the truth, I could feel it. There was something about the situation though. How it all fell together. It gave me that feeling I got sometimes, like something big was about to change, and it made me feel itchy. Eventually, I heard Jack’s breath even out and I finally faded into sleep myself.

Alone. I was alone, staggering through the dark. Forest floor beneath my bare feet.

Cold. I was so cold, like ice water in my veins. Even the loam between my toes was cold.

Empty. I felt hollowed out and hungry like I could never be filled. I tripped and fell face first.

And kept falling. The ground disappeared from under me before it hit and nothing but frozen wind blew past, whipping my skin, tearing at my hair, stinging my eyes. 

I was dying. I knew I was. I didn’t know how, but I knew. No light, no life flashing before my eyes, just cold and dark and alone. At least my only regret was that my loves would never know what happened to me, but then, I didn’t know either.

Claws snatching me in the air, digging deep, catching in my gut and I screamed.

“Do not be afraid, little moonbeam.”

“Sarah!”

I sat up, screaming, gasping for air, head between my knees.

“You had a nightmare.” Jack sat up next to me, palm rubbing circles over my upper back. “Sarah, it’s ok. You’re safe,” he soothed.

I slumped against him, shaking and sobbing. “I was dying… I was nearly dead and then something grabbed me and it hurt. It tore me open and I was all empty and cold inside. Fuck , it hurt so bad.”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him as I cried. “It was a dream. You’re not alone, I’ll be here.” He shushed into my hair and stroked up and down my back. “I know, I know, sweet girl… Let it out.”

I buried my face against his neck, trying to pull myself back together. He smelled like fresh hay drying in the sun and that particular mix of well worn upholstery, metal, and mechanical lubricant that always made me think of a comfortably worn in old work truck. He made little soothing noises against my forehead and pet my hair until I calmed again.

“Sorry, Jack,” I finally said as I pulled away.

“Nothing to be sorry for, doll. Got my own fair share of bad dreams.” He thumbed a tear off my cheek. “Just glad you weren’t alone, sweets.” He leaned in and I felt that warm glow of affection from him again. Not platonic, but not necessarily romantic either. It was something liminal that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as he leaned in and pressed his lips to my temple. I started, and he looked apologetic, like he hadn’t realized what he was doing. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re just trying to comfort me. I’m just trying to get used to this new, outwardly affectionate Jack when you’ve been so reluctant toward any kind of touching up until now.”

“I dunno. There’s never been anyone who seemed like they wanted that from me. Not even my family, what little I remember of them.”

“I remember seeing in your file that you became a ward of the state as a kid. You and every other kid in your town. Something about a Nazi sleeper cell? And then you got sent to that ‘boarding’ school.”

He nodded. “Will wasn’t exactly the kindest sort either. Clap on the shoulder now and then kinda guy.”

“Will… William Burnside? He was your Cap partner?” By all accounts, the man had been at least half-unhinged from the start. Absolutely obsessed with Captain America and Steve Rogers, both the myth and the reality. Burnside wrote a full dissertation about him for his PhD in American history and even got plastic surgery to look like him and changed his legal name in hopes of becoming a new Captain America back in the late 50s. He ended up the fourth man to take up a version of the shield after Steve disappeared in the ice.

He nodded. “Before you, it just never seemed important. But, it was important to you.” He gave me that small smile again. “And… it was nice when I let you.” I gave him a small, encouraging smile and he continued. “Then, you needed me. Even though you weren’t awake, you needed me, and I had a lot of time to just lay there and think. It helped that you were there, like having to keep touching you kept me from running away from my thoughts like I usually do.” He shrugged, “Or them running away with me.”

The faulty serum they took didn’t do Burnside any favors in the obsessive behavior department when they took McCarthyism off the grid as some sort of personal crusade to uphold American ‘freedom’. A lot of American citizens, especially minorities, got hurt. Not the best father figure material. Eventually, the government put them both in cryo when their excessive paranoia became delusional and caused them to refuse treatment. “Jack, did you ever accept help for the harm the serum did to your mind?”

He pulled back from me, physically and mentally, like pulling a curtain between us.

I looked up at him again. “Jack?” 

I reached out for his hand and he pulled it away, scooting toward the edge of the bed.  “You think I’m crazy, too. Like Will was.”

“Jack, I think what was done to you both physically by the serum and mentally by Burnside and the government throughout your life hurt you a tremendous amount. I know you did things you aren’t proud of, that you have to live with, because of that hurt and what it did to your mind.”

He stopped, sitting there at the edge. He looked at me over his shoulder, and his eyes were so hurt. “I’d never hurt you, Sarah.” 

“I know you’d never want to hurt me, Jack.” I laid my palm between his shoulder blades. “I can feel you, remember? I also know you were a kid, and they groomed and manipulated you. All those things you were a part of were not all your fault.”

I felt how much he wanted to believe me, and I understood why it was hard for him. 

“And, I think you deserve better than whatever turmoil exists inside your mind that you feel you need to run from. I know there are things now that can help you that we didn’t have 50 years ago, or even 20 years ago.”

He looked at me for a long moment. “They gave me something when they pulled me out last time. Said it was supposed to correct for the serum. I don’t see and hear things much anymore. It’s easier to tell when it’s not real than it used to be…”

“I’m glad to hear that.” My hand was rubbing soothing circles on his upper back now. “We’re okay, Jack. I’m gonna be okay. I want you to be okay, too. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here. You don’t owe anything to me, or anyone else.”

“You’re wrong.” He sat up again and looked at me, sitting just behind his shoulder. “I do owe you. I owe you for giving me a chance.” A little sigh fell from his lips as he tried to figure out what to say next. “You don’t understand, Sarah. Working with you, protecting you, helping you with this crazy crusade of yours? It feels like the first time I’m really doing something right. Something good. Helping real people help themselves.” He turned a little so he could face me easier. “You’re the first person to ever try to see me without wanting me to be something else. To conform to the town doctrine, to be Bucky, to be the Nomad and whatever I could do for them, just to put me back to sleep or send me away when I’m not useful anymore or my crazy gets too crazy.” 

“Jack-”

He gave the saddest little laugh. “The worst irony of it all is I don’t care who I am.” He leaned in a little. “I’d be anybody you needed. For that smile you give when you see me bust in on a negotiation going sideways, or when we walk and you slip your arm in mine and lean on me. The way you look at me like I belong here and I’m doing something right. Like it’s okay for me to just be in your life. I’d do anything for it to make sense for me to be here.”

“Jack, that’s not-”

He shook his head frantically, forcing me to let him finish. “I know there’s something wrong and broken in me, but I’ve never felt so fulfilled in my life as I did the other night, knowing I saved you, and I did it by being Bucky for you. I wasn’t going to ever tell you but you already know it happened so I may as well say the rest. Please, just listen.” I nodded, afraid of what I somehow knew was coming. “I know you never wanted me to be a certain person, but you needed him right then. I wanted to be him for you. If it would help you, make you happy, make you feel as good as you did in that moment, I’d be anything you wanted. I’d be Bucky again. I’d be him for you for the rest of my life if that’s what you wanted, and I’d die happy knowing I was useful to you somehow.”

I didn’t have words. Not for how all the more deeply appalled I was by what had happened, what I did while unconscious, what he willingly did, but for him, that he had been so deeply robbed of his own personhood that he felt no value in even finding it. “Jesus, Jack…”

“I know it’s wrong. I know I’m crazy and you’re going to hate me now, or pity me. But I needed to tell you that I’m more than okay with what happened. That I’d do it again if you needed it, even if you just wanted it.” He pressed his hand over mine on the mattress. “You never have to want Jack to be part of your life, just tell me how I can fit in it. Tell me how it makes sense for me to be here.”

“Jack, I'm sorry.” I met his pleading brown eyes. “I’m so sorry you were made to feel like you aren’t worthy of kindness and happiness and belonging on your own merit. But, no, you can’t be Bucky for me. You could never be Bucky Barnes, because you aren’t him. You’re Jack. Whether you know who Jack is or not, you can’t be Bucky, and I don’t want that from you. I want you to be Jack Monroe.”

He looked lost. “Why? I don’t know who that’s supposed to be.”

“Because he isn’t supposed to be anyone. He can be anyone you want him to be.”

He looked like I broke his heart. Maybe I did. I don’t know if he expected me to accept his confession, or to chase him away.

“It’s okay. You have all the time in the world to figure it out. I’m willing to support you on that journey, Jack, but I'm not going to accept you trying to be someone else for me.”

“Please, Sarah. Please, I’ve been trying, even before we met. To let myself feel things, to figure out what Jack Monroe the Nomad likes and doesn’t like, who the fuck that even is. And now to take care of myself, too, and how to be your friend. Every step of the way, every new touch, or thought, or conversation between us I thought ‘This is absolutely where she figures out how fucked up I am, that I’m too broken, that I don’t deserve any of the kindness she’s shown me’.” His fingertips came up to graze the curve of my cheek. “But, every time you just smile at me like I did something right, something good . It just got worse the more I wanted to see that smile again. I’ll never get why you’d want to meet Jack Monroe when I don’t rightly know who that is. But, when you called me Bucky, I knew what to do for the first time in forever. It was like I could breathe, like I finally got to relax.”

I took his hand in mine and pulled it from my face. “Jack, I understand wanting a purpose. After a life of following orders, mission after mission, and having your whole existence predicated on how well you can fit a mold, I can understand how hard it would be to build your own autonomy and sense of self. It sounds terrifying.” I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say that I got what he was trying to tell me, but draw a hard boundary. 

“I understand trying to be what people need to make yourself fit, probably better than most. But, you can’t be Bucky for me. I have my Bucky, and yes, I miss him like a piece of myself, but I miss the person he is, not the idea you have of him. I miss the man I met and fell in love with, long after he disappeared and came back with the sum of experiences that makes him a very different person than the one you were groomed to be anyway.”

He looked so defeated.

I held his hands in mine, watching my thumbs rubbing over his knuckles thoughtfully. “It sounds like… maybe you’re telling me that exercising that control over your personhood and trying to figure out how you feel about things all the time seems overwhelming at times, and knowing what role and expectations you needed to meet was familiar and relaxing for you.”

He sounded equally thoughtful. “You think it just helped knowing what I needed to do, and… Maybe… maybe it isn’t just being Bucky?”

“I think it’s possible.” I looked up at him. “I want to help you, Jack, but I’m not a therapist, and I think it would be wiser for you to talk to a professional.” He met my eye, about to say something. “I know, Jack. I know how hard that is, and maybe you aren’t ready for it yet, but I think it’s best to consider it. But, in the meantime. If you promise me you will think about that in good faith, and you keep trying…” I took a deep breath. “I can consider ways to meet the need you have for expectations and being useful. For you to be in a service headspace sometimes, but without the sort of roleplay of posing as another person.”

I felt that little hopeful spark, that glow of affection that I recognized now as a mix of admiration and adoration and longing, something like an intense squish, but it felt dangerously close to devotion. I knew I had to tread carefully, and something at my core felt tired realizing it. Was there anyone stable in this line of work?

His brow drew. “I’m sorry…”

I shook my head. “Don’t ever be sorry for expressing your needs, Jack. Not to me, or anyone else. If you are asking me for more than I am capable of, I will tell you, and I expect you to do the same. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Now, can we go back to sleep?” He nodded and I moved back over on the bed. I settled and looked up to see him still sitting at the edge of the bed.

He looked lost, overwhelmed. It felt to me a little like a therapy hangover.

“Tonight was a lot, wasn’t it, sug?

He nodded.

“Can we try something?”

He looked at me warily for a moment, then nodded again.

“I’d like to hold you.” I held out my arms to him. He looked ready to bolt. “Only if you want, Jack, and if you decide you really don’t like being little spoon, then we can stop. No questions asked.” He still looked unsure.

“Do you trust me,” I asked. He nodded again.

I smiled gently at him. “C’mere, then, Jack.”

He finally did, and I put one arm under the pillow and the other under his arm, resting my hand over his heart, my face against the back of his neck. I gave him a moment to get used to it, waiting for his heart to slow under my hand. “Is this okay? You can say no.”

He shook his head. “No… yeah, it’s okay…” He pressed a hand over mine on his chest. “It’s good.”

“Okay.” I schooled my breathing down, slow and even, letting him feel that I was relaxed, unworried, that I still felt safe, and gradually his breaths evened out into sleep. Eventually, I drifted off as well.

Chapter Text

The next morning I woke up alone, snuggled well down in the covers, the down duvet pulled over me. Jack making sure I stayed warm after he got up. I got up and pulled on Steve’s hoodie and headed to the bathroom. When I came back, Jack was back and caught sight of me coming up the path. The wash of relief I got from him would have been adorable if it wasn’t deeply worrisome given his current level of attachment.

“Morning,” I said casually, “Where’d you go?”

“Looking for Lo.”

I smiled. “You won’t find her. Not unless she wants you to.”

“You don’t seem worried.”

I shrugged. “The cat distribution system giveth and taketh away.” Somehow I knew she hadn’t gone far. “I hope she comes back, I miss her already, but I can’t make her stay.”

“You’d just leave her?”

“She knows when I’m leaving. I have meetings to make.” 

He gave me a look. 

I smirked back. I think it was a little tired around the edges. “Was that a colder response than you expected?”

“Yeah. Guess I’m not used to it.”

“Practical first, then personal. I didn’t get this far letting my inner sentimentalist run the show, and she knows it.”

“Heh, I guess not. I’ve seen you in a fight.”

I gave him a feral little smile and felt that flash of affection from him as he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Bit better,” I answered with a stretch and only a minor twinge from my hip. “A few days of forced bedrest probably did me some good overall.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I answered, moving to put my toiletry bag back in the van, “I might even answer.”

He leaned against the doorframe as he watched me start stripping the bed. “Your scars.”

I hadn’t thought about him being up close and personal with them, but obviously he had seen and felt them, me being in just my underwear those three days. “That wasn’t a question, sug.”

He smirked and took the comforter from me, shaking it out heartily before starting to fold it. “How did you get them?”

“Battle of New York.” I pulled the sheets into a pile at the center.

“You were living there?”

I nodded, stripping the pillowcases and tossing the pillows on the bare mattress.

“That was just before they pulled me out of cryo the last time. I heard it was bad.”

“It was terrible before and horrific after,” I answered bluntly, grabbing a laundry pod and some coins and stuffing them in my pocket before gathering up the pile. I slipped out the door, arms full, and looked at him expectantly as he set the comforter inside. “What do you really want to ask?”

He took the pile from my arms and I tossed our used bath towels on top. “Sometimes you call out other names when you have nightmares. Who did you lose?”

“My husband and kids.” I started walking for the laundry room, him following behind.

“I’m sorry.”

I huffed. “You’re the last person to need to apologize for something terrible over three and a half years ago.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

I looked at him blandly as I opened the door for him. “No you aren’t. You were curious. If I didn’t want you to know, I wouldn’t have told you.”

He just looked at me as I passed him to open a washer and deposit the soap and coins. “I guess you’re right…” He put the load in and closed the lid.

I did some other tidying up around the campsite and van while the laundry worked. Jack helped, and once the bed was remade I asked if he’d take me into town. 

He was more than willing, and Carmen bustled across the dining room pulling me into a tight hug as soon as we walked in then took my face in her hard calloused hands. “Hija! You scared me to death!”

I chuckled. “I’m sorry, Abuela Carmen. I’m better now, thanks to your gifts.” I kissed her weathered cheek affectionately and she grinned at me. “I wanted to come see you and thank you in person before I leave tomorrow.”

“You can’t!” She gasped. “Death came for you just days ago! You haven’t even seen the baby!”

I laughed. “I’m sorry, madre, the good work will not wait.” I hugged her again. “I will hug Antonio and pinch his cheeks for you.”

She sighed and nodded. “You will at least cook and eat with us tonight.”

“Of course I will, madre.”

She ushered me in the back and had me in a seat peeling tomatillos and seeding chiles while she bustled about and told me all the gossip. 

Some time later we were sitting with the family and Jake came in to a chorus of good-natured jeers. He was clean shaven now. He pulled up a chair opposite Jack and I. “How you feeling, hermosa ?” 

“A little better. Less tired.” 

“Glad to hear it.” We toasted with our beers.

“Glad I ran into you tonight, Lockley. We’ll be heading back north tomorrow. I have a couple of appointments to keep if possible.”

He nodded. “I may do the same. Mind a caravan?”

“Through the border, yes, otherwise, no.”

He grinned, “Fair enough, cariña.”

“Don’t do too much galavanting tonight, Señor Caballerito , I’m an early riser.”

The next day, Lockley arrived mid-morning to find me calling out into the scrub for Lo.

“Lose your cat, cariña ?”

“She ran off the other night after you left. Hasn’t been back.”

“You think maybe something got her?”

I gave him a look. “You really think a coyote is gonna take on that gremlin? She’s damn near big as one.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. “We still planning to leave?”

I sighed. “Yeah… Just give me a few minutes.” I walked out from under the mesquite tree shading our campsite and into the scrubland a bit, just wanting enough space to feel a little private. I knew Jack could probably still hear if he wanted, but he was chatting with Lockley now over a map, filling him in on our planned route.  

I sat on the ground and tried to think about her. She was one of the few folks I’d known in my life that I was closely enough connected to that I could feel her from more than a few feet away. Not that it was more than a vague impression, like that feeling in the back of your mind of being watched. I could feel she was nearby, and tried to orient on a direction. “Lo, I’m sorry if I made it seem like I wasn’t grateful for your help. I never would have been able to do all this without you, and I might be dead by now, to boot. I get that. At the same time, I don’t think it wrong of me to want to know the cost for saving me. For you and me both. I’m sorry you don’t feel safe enough to be honest with me.

“I don’t want you to feel like you were somehow obligated to be here either. I care about you, I think we’ve made good travel buddies and roomies, even friends, but I never wanted you to feel like I would make you stay if you wanted to go. If you think this is where we should part ways, I can accept that. I’ll miss you, though. I want you to know that. I’ll miss having you in my life, your companionship, your sense of humor.” I huffed a little laugh, brushing away the tears that were threatening to overflow. “I think I’ll even miss arguing with you.”

I sat there awhile, recalling and talking to the desert highland and the winter sun about my friend, until I could feel an amount of impatience from the direction of the campsite. I got up and brushed off my jeans. “Lokitty, I want you to know you’ll always have a place with me. Whenever and however long you want it. I’ll miss you, sweetie.” And I headed back toward the campsite, my hand around her collar in my hoodie pocket.

Fifteen minutes later, a hodgepodge caravan of a beat up, mid-60s model, cream colored Econoline van, an 80s model Harley motorcycle ridden by a man who looked like he fell out of some road warrior era movie, duster flapping behind him, and a comparatively cherry, pearly white 2010s model Lincoln town car drove away from the campsite. I wiped the cuffs of my hoodie under my eyes one more time as we left Lo behind.

I still found myself tiring far more quickly than I had before my run in with Khonshu. I wasn’t pushing the pace, maybe 6 hours on the road a day aside from stops, setting up camp right off the road pretty much wherever was convenient when my eyelids started drooping. Often I would turn in before the two men, leaving them to their own male bonding after dinner. 

Lockley was a surprisingly good addition to the mix. Jake was effortlessly charming in a roguish way, flirtatious but not in a creepy or overbearing way, just playful and teasing and wholly indiscriminate, just as willing to make a comment toward Jack as me. He and Jack seemed to get along, bonding over both being some degree of gearhead. I fell asleep each night listening to the affable hum of their voices outside the van, comforted in knowing I wasn’t actually alone in the night. I assumed Jack didn’t want to wake me whenever they decided to turn in and was either back to sleeping under the stars, or was in the backseat of the town car.

It was the morning of the fifth day on the road and I woke up feeling worse than I had in some time, my hip and thigh tight and tingly and that familiar dull ache in my joints. I’d noticed some of my older aches and pains coming back gradually over the last few days. Maybe the overnight chill was getting to me finally without a magic cat or supersoldier to be a living hot water bottle. I spent some extra time trying to stretch my lower back and leg, knowing I’d be sitting most of the day. When I slipped out the door and stood, I had to keep a steadying hand on the doorframe, my leg not quite ready to take my weight.

“You okay, cariña?”

I looked up and both men were already up, cups of coffee in hand from the percolator. Jack got up and poured me a cup. I sat back down on the ledge massaging my thigh roughly. “Yeah, Jake, I’m okay. Chronic pain is just a bitch. Sorry for moving slow today.” 

“No problem, hermosa. You take your time.”

“Been a while since I had a morning like this.” I pulled the first aid kit from under the passenger seat, grabbed a bottle and tipped a couple of pain pills from it into my palm for only the second time since we’d been in Mexico. I looked up after downing them to take the coffee cup from Jack. “Thanks, sug.”

“No problem, doll.” I could feel the concern, but that was fading to more normal levels as well.

I gave him a little smile. “I’m okay. Used to be like this all the time.” I flexed my hands. “Can usually tell the weather with these, too.  Guess winter is here and I should get used to it. Especially if we’re heading back up north.”

“It’s worse when you’re cold,” the supersoldier asked.

“Particularly when it’s cold and damp.” I smirked. “No wonder I get along with cats, right?”

He smirked back. “Would you like me to make breakfast today?”

“No, it’s easier to deal with when I can stay busy. I just need a minute.” He gave me a look and I smiled. “But, you can get things set up for me.” He gave me a pleased little smile and pretty soon there were breakfast burritos made, two for Jack, and we were packed back up and on the road.

That evening we hit a campground, showered all around, did some laundry, and then we all sat around the campfire with dinner discussing the plan. Tomorrow we would split, Jack and I crossing at Andrade and San Luis, respectively, and Jake crossing at Calexico, further west. Then we would all head west to meet up near Otay. If anyone hadn’t made rendezvous by the following evening, the rest would go on without them. 

Then, I checked messages on the burner and caught a request just across the border. Jack left not much later after an intense ‘conversation’, though maybe ‘argument’ would be more accurate. He didn’t want to leave, but I pointed out we were closest, and he was the best fit for the backup Antonio needed with the BAD Girls and Rawhide Kid all on other assignments. I reassured him I would follow the itinerary we had discussed for the next week so he could catch up, unless I had reason to believe that plan was compromised, meaning he or Jake had been. He hugged me fiercely before he left, burying his face in my hair, begging me to be careful. I hugged him back with a kiss to his cheek, demanding he do the same. We stood there by his bike holding each other for a long time before he finally kissed my head and let go. I watched until his tail light had disappeared and I could no longer hear the rumble of his engine in the night.

I walked back into the ring of firelight, pulling the hood up around my head and plunging my hands deep inside my hoodie pocket, fingering Lo’s collar where I had been keeping it. I fiddled with the little gold bell, sending a little prayer out into the universe, a blessing that both Jack and Lo would be well and safe until we could meet again. Jake regarded me as I sat down.

“He’ll be okay. So will your not-a-cat. We’re gonna look out for you until he comes back, cariña .”

The corner of my lips quirked. “I’m sure your boss is thrilled at the prospect.” Khonshu had remained unobtrusive. The only time I caught the chill of his presence was sometimes in the evening, I would sense him in the town car, or vaguely around Jake. I couldn’t feel him distinctly at the moment.

“I’ll go on strike if he tries anything like that again.” He met my eyes over the dying fire. “You have our word. That old bird won’t touch you again without permiso .”

I held the fierceness of his gaze for a long moment, and I got that feeling I sometimes got from him. Of other things happening below the surface. It was a similar feeling to what I would get from Bruce when Hulk was close to the surface, and it reinforced my suspicions about why Moon Knight reports varied so much. “I appreciate that, Jake.”

We sat in silence for several minutes while I finished a cup of tea, watching the fire. “So…” he began, “you and Monroe a thing or…?”

I blinked at him. “Wha..? No.”

I raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “You seem close is all.” Then he gave me a little smirk. “Maybe I was wondering if I had a shot.”

I chuckled. “Well, if you were going to take one, it isn’t Jack that you should wonder about.”

His smirk grew. “Noted. I’ll keep an eye out for your boyfriends.”

I shook my head. “What a dog.”

“I’d bark if you wanted me to.”

I laughed. “I don’t believe in fences, and sure you’re cute, but I think it’s pretty clear you don’t find me attractive, Lockley.”

“What makes you think that, hermosa ?”

I lifted a brow at him.  “First impressions don’t get second chances.”

He leaned forward. “The alley wasn’t my first impression of you.”

“Don’t play with me, Jake,” I said flatly. “You didn’t remember the cab until I brought it up.”

He smirked. “Before that. It just took a bit to put it all together.”

I frowned in thought, but he chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. But, I want you to know behind the warehouse wasn’t the first time I see you. I just didn’t recognize you then.”

“Heh, doesn’t change anything.”

He got up, coming around the fire. “I think maybe you got me wrong, cariña . It maybe was rude, but I wasn’t trying to insult you. I-”

I frowned and got up. “You’d be the only person to ever comment on my weight first thing and not mean it as an insult, Lockley. Goodnight.” I turned and headed for the van.

I crawled into bed and locked the door behind me. I hurt, more than I had in months. I felt alone, disconnected, and I didn’t have the bandwidth to be patient with a man trying to backtrack an insult. I pulled the big, down comforter over, even folding it in half, wanting the weight on top of me as much as the warmth. 

“On the news.” I heard Jake’s voice outside the window near my head. “There was this clip. Somebody grab it on their phone or something. The camera looking at the Hulk, but nobody sees what happens in the background. A woman, very injured, she pulls down a pile of rubble on this Chitauri. Nearly got her, too. She finishes it off with a piece of rebar through its skull while it was pinned down. Probably why it was never shown on air again.” I felt the van shift as he probably leaned on it, and I lifted my head, listening. 

“She was barely standing, whole side of her body a mess, but she went to help a family out of a car anyway. Then she screamed at the camera to help and the video cut off.” I heard the gentle thump of his head against the window. “I’ve been in some horrible, ugly places. Seen things I wish I didn’t have stuck in my nightmares. But, that woman, in that moment with all that shit happening around her, side mangled and looking half dead… her eyes burn while she tell that pendejo to put his camera down. Most beautiful person I ever see in my life. A fucking ángel vengador . You look like that in the alley, too, hermosa. ” 

I leaned into the back corner of the bed. Did his accent completely change for a minute there in the middle? Then it did it again, and I felt that subtle shift this time as I looked out the thin gap between the window and blind at him. 

“It was like she told me to stop staring and do something useful… and I put the gun down.”

I reached up beside me, fingers pulling the window shade away, just a little so I could see his profile a little better. “What’s your name,” I asked softly.

He turned his head to look at me, just a little surprised, I think. The set of his mouth was different, firm and resigned, brow heavy and eyes that were wary, sad, and I think a little scared all at once. “Marc. Spector.”

“Hi, Marc,” I said quietly. I moved to open the door again, forcing him to move, and sat in the opening, leaning back against the side of the bed and pulling the comforter around me. I pulled my knees up to my chest and inside the blanket, giving him space to sit beside me, if he wanted.

He did, perching in the opening beside me. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I think I’ve seen you before, too. In the ring, before I saw Jake.”

“How could you tell?” It took me a second to pinpoint the accent. Flatly American, urban, upper midwest, but not far north. Chicago maybe?

I shrugged. “You fight different. You both fight like it’s your job. Military training, and I’m pretty sure you started as a boxer. But, Jake likes his job.” I felt something shift again, close to the surface. “I don’t think you do, you just feel like you have to.”

Then I felt the shift happen for real. “Ay, cariña… ” Jake said. “You think I like being violent?”

I smirked. “I think there is something you like about a physical interaction. I don’t think it needs to be a fight. Is Marc okay? Did I chase him off?”

“Nah, he still here. I just wanted to finish talking to you.”

I sighed, leaning my head against the doorframe. “Say your piece, Jake,” I acquiesced tiredly.

“I get why you were offended, but I didn’t mean you were fat. No gorda .”

“I am.”

“I meant…” He didn’t argue, but gave it a second of thought, like he was looking for the right word. Like maybe English wasn’t his first language. “Chubby? Fluffy? I meant that you were cute.” He smirked. “And then you just shrug me off, like you didn’t just walk in on sex behind a warehouse. Strolled off like it was nothing to be ashamed or surprised about?” He leaned in a little. “I’m not ashamed to say I almost blew my load right there.”

I chuckled. “You like being ignored by unimpressed fat girls?”

He laughed, low and warm, a dark sound that sent a tingle up my spine every time. “I like an independent woman. Comfortable in her body and not easily embarrassed. Whatever the body looks like. And I would never say no to getting lost between thighs like those.” Then he gave me a little smile that I could only describe as sultry.  “Then I see you beat the shit out of that idiota outside Carmen’s. The look in your eye. I recognize it from that video. One of the hottest things I ever see in my life.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe that’s it.”

“What is that, cariña ?”

“A fight feels honest to you. So does sex.” I met his eyes. “Honesty without emotional involvement.”

He blinked. Then, he blinked again, and I felt another shift and he tensed. Nervous. “Oh, dear. Um… hi. Let me just… Oh, come on then, bruv…” He was rambling in the cutest British accent now, trying to tell me he was getting them back. Very not Marc.

I chuckled. “It’s okay. I think maybe I spooked them.” I reached out a hand. “And who might you be?”

“Oh, um, Steven.” He shook my hand. “With a ‘v’. Steven Grant.”

“Nice to meet you, Steven. Not ‘Steve’ for short then, I take it.”

His nose wrinkled a bit. “No. No, Steven is good.”

“Good.” I smiled. “I already have a Steve, so that keeps it simple, doesn’t it?”

“Steve… I heard you talking before with Jake. You mean Steve Rogers?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “Yet another ‘Steven with a v’. I’m glad to be able to keep you straight easily.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard, should it? He’s quite handsome by comparison.”

“Differently, yes, but you’re rather cute yourself, y’know. I do adore a strong jawline.”

He blushed. “Well, I’m alright I suppose, but him.” He leaned in a bit with a conspiratorial shift of his eyes. “He’s really quite dreamy, isn’t he.” Then he stopped himself. “Oh, it’s probably rude of me to be talking about your boyfriend. Sorry.”

I grinned. “Oh, he absolutely is dreamy.” I leaned in, too. Not quite as far, but enough to mirror him. “Those eyes, right?”

His whole face lit up, seeming so happy just that I was engaging with him. “Oh, heavens, yes! And his smile! And he just seems so nice in interviews.”

“He is. Such a gentleman.”

“What about the other Avengers?” He lit up again. “What about Thor? What’s he like?”

“Oh, Thor is a treasure,” I said fondly, wondering if Steven maybe had a thing for burly blondes. “Kind, a little goofy, so honest, and…” I leaned in again, “the best hugs you’ll ever have in your entire life. Pick you right up. Literally.”

Steven and I fell into easy conversation as he asked me about my adventures. Where I’d been so far, who I’d met… We had shifted and now we were sitting on the bed, the comforter spread over us, and I’d made tea with the electric kettle I’d picked up recently.

“Did I offend them? Jake and Marc?”

“Oh, oh, no, not at all!” He shook his head. “They’re just a bit uncomfortable, y’know? Not used to being, well, seen, I suppose.” 

I chuckled. “Okay. I’ll try not to notice so much. Or, at least not mention it when I do.”

“Oh, please do. I love that someone else is making them think about things for a change.” Then, he got a thoughtful look. “It’s a bit weird though, innit?”

“What’s that?”

“You know, us . You just seem all… nonchalant about it, right? Like it’s not weird. But, it’s weird though, innit. I thought it was weird and I’m in the middle of it.” He was babbling again. “Thought I was alone in here for the longest. Just a regular sort of fellow… sad sort, lonely, but regular. Then comes all this absolutely mental stuff with someone else in my head, and the creepy pigeon-”

I giggled. “Does he really look like a bird?”

“Oh, yeah, tall, gangly tosser with a big bird skull for a head. Anyway, and then I find out the other bloke in my head is married, and she’s amazing, and there’s-”

“Marc or Jake?”

“Marc, we didn’t know about Jake at the time, thought it was just the two of us, then we die and-”

“Wait, you died ?!”

“Yeah, got bloody shot, left in a reflecting pool in Alexander the Great’s tomb.”

“No! Shit.”

“Right?! Bloody Alexander the Great!” I meant the getting shot part, but I let him keep going. “So then we’re in the Duat, meet Tawaret, who’s just lovely, and I find out I’m not even the original. Not even a real person, Marc is-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Steven, what do you mean you’re not a real person?”

“Well, that’s just it, innit? There was Marc Spector, and me and Jake were created later by his mind to… deal with things.”

“Steven, have you ever spoken to a professional therapist?”

“Oh, yes, Marc and I have. Loads.”

“About the three of you though. The system.”

“Well, I didn’t know. Thought I was alone at the time. And Marc,” he listened for a moment, “doesn’t have the best track record with them.”

“Ah. I’m really sorry to hear that. But, Steven, you aren’t less of a person than Marc. Even if he’s the alter who identifies with the name your body was given, you and Jake are still people, as actualized as you care to be.”

He hugged me. Just leaned over and flung his arms around me, like I’d offered him a lifeline, squeezing so tight I could barely breathe. I hugged him back, and a moment later he seemed to realize what he’d done, pulling away hurriedly. “Sorry! So sorry, that was rude! Only just met, y’know…”

“It’s okay, Steven, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?” He looked unsure.

“Yeah, hard to take it wrong when I can feel your intent. But, what I was going to say before was that you aren’t the first system I’ve interacted with, so I’ve done a little bit of reading up on the subject. I’m no expert, but it wasn’t shocking to meet you either. It seems pretty uncommon to only have two alters in a system.” I reached out for his hand and he took it. “From what I’ve read, you all might have always been there. Whatever trauma happened to your body as a child that caused your mind to cope in this way, from what I understand, is now believed by some to be a lack of settling into one single, definitive personality in the first place, rather than a splintering of an existing sense of self.” I gave his hand a little squeeze. “But, as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter when you showed up. I think all of you are equally valid.”

“Really?” 

I nodded. “Even if Marc did most of the fronting when you were a child, and even if you didn’t recognize the shifting early on or you all weren’t aware of each other in the same way. There’s good reason to believe some or all of you have always been present. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you even interacted between yourselves on some level.”

He hugged me again. “Thank you…”

I wrapped my arms around him again. “You’re welcome, Steven.”

He relaxed a little, some of the frenetic energy bleeding away. Then, he tensed and I felt the shift, but I didn’t let on, letting Marc get his bearings and then decide to relax, though I could still feel an underlying nervousness. Maybe because he thought I didn’t know I was hugging someone else. I felt like it had been a long time for any of them. “Is this okay, Marc?”

He tensed again. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, it’s fine…” He pulled away a moment later. “How could you tell? That it was me, I mean.”

“I suppose I can reciprocate a secret since you’ve given me a couple pretty big ones.” I tapped my temple. “I’m an empath, pretty weak one, but the three of you all feel different. Can also kinda tell when another alter is close to the front, but not necessarily who.” I leaned back on the bed, curling on my side, feeling like acting relaxed in his presence would help him relax as well. I propped my head on my hand, looking up at him. “Probably why I have a sense of your boss as well, even if I can’t see him.”

“You’ve heard him, though.”

“I think that had to do with whatever he did to me that night. Some sort of connection was made, but not enough to interact with him the way you all can. So is this why sometimes Moon Knight looks different?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even know the suit could look different.” 

“Who is the three piece suit? I think that’s my favorite look. Very classy.” 

“Steven.” The hard line of his mouth spasmed, a smirk that was really a fought back grin. “He says thank you.”

I smiled back. “And Jake’s is the black, armored one. So I guess the OG mummy look is you?”

He nodded. “Classic version, I guess. But Steven and I don’t work for him anymore.”

“But, Jake does? That seems like a complicated arrangement in a shared body.”

“We didn’t know about Jake then. And, he won’t give it up.”

I felt something bubble up to the surface, I think it was something from Jake, and Marc made a face. “I see. Seems like a bone of contention. Sorry for stirring the pot.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His expression took that unfocused look again, though he was better at hiding it than Steven. “We should turn in.”

I nodded. “Probably.” 

He moved off the bed to the door and I followed them to close and lock the door. “Goodnight.”

“Good night, moon boys. It was nice to meet all of you.”

He stood up outside the van, and suddenly turned. I barely had time to register the shift before Jake cupped one cheek in his hand and pressed his lips to the other. “ See you on the other side, cariña ,” he murmured against my skin in Spanish before giving me a cocky little smile and walking away as I blinked dumbly after him.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I closed and locked the door and turned in for the night.

Chapter Text

The town car was gone when I woke up, so I packed up quickly and hit the road myself. 

The crossing was nerve wracking as always, but I didn’t have to hide Lo this time, which gave me a little pang of sadness as I pulled through customs. Overall, things went smoothly, and Sarah Grant recrossed the border without mishap, heading west toward Otay Mountain. 

The pearly white, if now a bit dusty, town car was parked not too far up the truck trail, just out of sight from the graveled park road. I pulled up and got out, stretching with a wince.

It was Marc leaning against the car as I walked up. “Any problems?”

“Smooth as can be expected,” I answered

“Jake is pissed about having to drive the car up here.”

“Hey, I knew enough to not suggest meeting someplace on the truck trail. He’d have a fucking aneurysm.”

He smirked. “True.”

“No sign of Jack?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t be me waiting if there was.”

“Fair enough.” I turned back toward the van. “I’m gonna make a sandwich. You want one?”

“Sure.” 

We sat in the doorway of the van, watching the sun sink in companionable quiet, each with a sandwich and a beer. “Are you worried about him,” Steven asked after Marc and I had eaten.

“I’m worried about a lot of people.”

“I guess you would be.” He reached out and took my hand. “He’ll be here.”

“I hope so, Steven. I really do.” I squeezed his hand in mine. “But, people come and go all the time in life. For all kinds of reasons.”

“You think he’ll choose not to come back?”

“Jack?” I huffed. “Absolutely not. If he misses us, he got caught. That’s what I’m trying not to think about.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Hey, I wanted to ask you. Last night, you were talking about how you kind of got thrown into all this. You mentioned something called a Duat?”

And, he was off and running. In true infodump style, I got an entire dissertation on the Egyptian afterlife, and found out that Tawaret is a pretty cool hippo lady, very down with protecting women and children but does a little sidework now and again weighing hearts for Osiris. Steven was actually quite the engaging speaker, and as someone who likes to know at least a little about a lot of things, I’m generally down for a subject I knew very little about. Ancient Egyptian mythology is definitely one of those things, though I hadn’t ever needed it before finding myself in the regular company of an avatar of a once major god in that pantheon who had evidently taken a shine to me.

By the time he was wrapping up, I was yawning, but I assured him it was the long drive and not him, pointing out several bits I found particularly compelling, including my hypothesis of Tawaret, goddess of women and children, having a side job with death because of the historically dangerous state of being a childbearing person or a child. He seemed satisfied that I wasn’t getting rid of him and said good night, but then I felt a shift and knew my evening wasn’t quite finished.

“Evening, Jake.”

“Did you think you would say goodnight to them and not to me?”

I shrugged. “You weren’t around.”

He sat next to me again. “I’m always around.”

“You weren’t in the front,” I corrected. “Too busy being surly about your dirty car?”

“Giving those two some space to come out and taking a rest after driving all night and half the day,” he countered.

I smirked, “If you say so. Goodnight, Jake.”

“Are you really not going to give me a chance?”

“A chance for what, Jake?”

“To show you I meant everything I said last night.”

“I don’t doubt you did, Jake. It’s hard for people to lie to me. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you get lost between my thighs.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. I wouldn’t miss a chance to make an ángel vengador like you feel worshiped like you deserve . You seem like a woman well past due for some pampering.” He reached out for my hand again and pressed a lingering kiss to my knuckles, rolling his eyes up to look at me under thick, dark lashes. “And, my ears get cold at night.”

I laughed and he gave me a rakish grin, leaning close. “Think on it . Neither of us is interested in complication, I think. But, I see you, cariña. I see your eyes. The way they linger. On our hands,” his thumb rubbed over my knuckles. “The way you don’t want an embrace to end.” He slowly brought one hand to my waist. “Our mouth, watching how each of us forms our words.” His face dipped to just inches from mine, his gaze roving over my features. “What are you thinking then, I wonder. Because I am wondering if that sharp tongue of yours tastes as sweet as it sounds.” Each movement was slow, steady, asking, not demanding, not cornering me, giving me time and space to rebuff or step away. His breath was warm on my lips, an invitation. His eyes intent on mine, looking for any sign that I was uncomfortable, but daring me to call his bluff. A game of chicken. He was testing my boundaries, yes, but I hadn’t given him any in the first place. “I would happily be your night of distracción .” His lips again, his voice low, nearly purring against my ear. “My name would be la música más dulce from your lips, I think.” 

Fuck, why did he need to have such a hot voice? I shuddered and he chuckled, a thick, dark sound like molasses. I smiled, turned my head just enough to kiss his cheek before purring against his ear with a smile. “Goodnight, Jake.” 

He gave the tiniest resigned huff of disappointment against my cheek. “ Buenas noches, ángel,” he murmured. Then he kissed my cheek and pulled away. I got in the van and locked the door.

I changed into my pajamas and crawled into the bed. I lay there staring at the dim ceiling. It had been a long time since I’d remotely considered touching myself, had rarely felt so much as a tingle downstairs since before I left the Compound. Sue me, Jake was empirically handsome, had a voice that could give me goosebumps reading the phonebook, and had just the kind of unromantic, spontaneous, fun energy I could be down for, just to work out some tension. This was a man who wasn’t looking to complicate my life or his, just have some fun while we ran adjacent. But, I wasn’t generally one to put out on the first date. I had plenty of fuel for the fire if I felt like I just needed to rub one out, which I didn’t after sitting with it for a few minutes.

It would have been nice if that was the kind of dream I got that night, though.

______________________

Screams and acrid chemical smoke. A rough shove and everything going dark. “Paul?! Angus! Chloe!” Wracking coughs pushing the smoke out even as it got thicker in the air around me. 

“MAMA!”

“Angus, I hear you! I’m coming, baby!” Then I heard my name behind me. “Paul?” I crawled and scrambled through the dark. It was feet that felt like miles before I touched his hand. “Paul, baby is that you?”

“I’m here. Where are the kids?” His voice sounded strained.

“I heard them. That’s where I’m going next. Can you move?”

“No. Go, babe. Go get them. I’m not getting out.” There was a gravity to his words, a truth I sensed in him that felt like a lead weight in my stomach. I felt down his body and stopped as my guts threatened to turn inside out and my mind shut off. I couldn’t remember if I screamed in horror or cried in grief or cackled insanely at the unbridled absurdity of the uncaring universe. Maybe all at once.

His big hands wrapped around my wrists and pulled me up to him. I bent down and kissed him desperately, tasting blood and dust and smoke but none of him. The smell of him, apples roasted in a campfire and dried thyme and the faintest undertone of agar was smothered in the wreckage of my mind. His voice pulled me back with my name. “Here.” He pulled his wedding band off and slipped it over my thumb. “Now you’re married to yourself. Got that wife just like you always joked you wanted. The best wife there ever was. I would know. I love you so much. No, no,” He shushed me. “I know you don’t wanna leave me, but we both know you have to. Find the kids and get them outta here. I love you. Never forget that.” I kissed him again and he kissed me back in that dark place knowing it was the last time. “I love you. You do what you gotta. You keep living, baby.”

“I love you, too, Paul.” The world shifted under me, and I saw light.

_______________________

It was the van rocking. “ Cariña?! Cariña, you okay?!”

I groaned, rolling over.

“I don’t wanna break in, cariña!”

I sat up and pushed up the shade to see Jake with his hands planted against the window, face full of concern. “I’m fine, Jake,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, and you didn’t sound fine a minute ago.”

“Nightmare… Just a nightmare.”

He regarded me for a long minute. “Do you really wanna be alone right now?”

I stared back, and then I felt my face crumple and the hot tears fog my eyes. “No…”

“Please, open the door, cariña.”

I did and he sat in the doorway beside me, pulling me close into his side with an arm around my shoulders. I rested my head on his shoulder as he muttered softly and soothingly in Spanish and I cried. 

“Sorry…” I mumbled, finally sitting up and wiping my face.

“ Por que?”

I huffed. “Waking you up? Making you worry? Crying on you? Take your pick.”

“ Cariña, you okay.” He tugged me in again and gave a soft peck to my temple. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that I see you like this.”

I chuckled. “You think I have a reputation to maintain?”

“I think I like this feeling.” He looked down at me with a playful little smile that didn’t match the flare of protective affection I felt spark from him. “Like seeing something not so many people get to.” 

I gave him a sad little smile. “Thanks for checking on me, Jake.”

“Didn’t have a choice. Steven wouldn’t have let me go back to sleep even if I tried.”

I chuckled. “Thanks to Steven, too, then.”

“I’d be a right wanker if I didn’t, luv, that sound you made.” He gave a little shudder, and then Jake was back. 

I wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. “Thanks. All of you.” He hugged me back and I felt that bright spark of protectiveness and its tentative afterglow of affection again. 

“Any time, ángel. You want us to stay? Keep you company?”

I pulled away again. “I couldn’t ask you all to do that.”

“No problem at all, luv. I can make some tea. Would you like some tea?”

“There’s some relaxation tea in the blue tin…”

Almost before I really registered that I’d agreed, Steven and I were lounging on the bed again, each with a mug of tea. “Can I ask you something?” 

I leaned against his shoulder. “Yeah...”

“Who’s Paul?”

I sighed, “My late husband. Before you ask, I was dreaming of when he died. Battle of New York.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I haven’t had that dream in a long time.” I hadn’t dreamt of Paul specifically since I was living in the Tower. “I’m glad Jake woke me when he did. I wanted to see what happened next even less if that’s possible.” I finished my tea and set the mug on the shelf near my head in the corner.

He set his own mug down and put his arm around my shoulder. “I can’t imagine that, luv. We saw news footage, I think everyone in the world did. I saw a kaiju fight over the bloody pyramids and I still can’t imagine what you saw that day.”

A breathy sound came out of me and I didn’t know if it was a laugh or a sob as I leaned into his chest.

“Oh! Oh dear... I’ve gone and made it worse, haven’t I? I’m so sorry...” There was a little flare of not quite panic and I felt someone else brush the surface, then he tentatively wrapped his arms around me. “Is… Is this okay, Sarah?”

I nodded, sad all over again at the name that wasn’t mine. “Thanks, Steven.” I slipped my arms around his waist. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Oh… Oh, of course, luvie. Glad to help.” His feelings were jumbled, nervous, a little apprehensive or even afraid, but excited, maybe a little proud, with the same kind of affectionate glow I’d felt from Jake. He gradually relaxed into me, seeming as happy as I was to simply be held as I melted into him, taking in his scent of books and bergamot and vaguely of sandalwood.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I noticed I was waking up, feeling even worse. My head was pounding, my joints and bones ached like they used to back in the Tower. I groaned and I felt movement as I registered my head resting on a firm chest, arm around his waist. The scent was different, still that faint undertone of sandalwood, but now with something tangy and bright that reminded me of preserved lemons and something else vaguely smokey. Gunsmoke? Huh… interesting…

“Hmm? What’s inter-” I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. I startled at his voice, more than it not being the same alter I fell asleep with. “Sorry…” He started to move away and I whimpered as my head shifted.

“Please…” I said quietly. He froze. “It’s okay, Marc.” I gave him the most gentle squeeze with my arm before moving to just rest my hand on his side. “Can I just have a minute while I remember how to pull it together.”

“I can wake Steven…”

“No,” I groaned in resignation, “it’s okay if you don’t want to be here. Don’t tag someone in for this.” I let out a stunted breath that was almost a whimper as I forced my joints to remember they are supposed to be able to move. “I can get out of your way.”

He curved the arm behind me around my shoulders, a bit stiffly. “It’s okay as long as you don’t mind.” 

I set my head down again with a groan. “Maybe I wasn’t ready to hit the road again just yet…”

“You did almost die.” He settled again, though not totally relaxed, frustrated… but there was something soft too, a longing, mingling with… guilt? 

“So I’m told.” I relaxed against him while I tried to convince my brain to remember we do this pain thing all the time, and often more severely. “Not the first time.”

“So, what was interesting?” he asked after we had laid there awhile.

“Heh, I just learned something about myself I wasn’t expecting.”

“Care to share?” I could hear the little smile in his voice. “Since we ain’t going anywhere.”

I chuckled. “Just something about my ability that I never realized was that. I thought I was just weird about how people smell.”

“What, do I smell bad?”

I laughed at the surprisingly serious question. “No. No, I don’t mean like that…  Were you around when I said you all weren’t the first system I’ve ever interacted with?”

“No, but Steven told me about it. He was really excited to tell me what you said about alters.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, the other system I know, they have a different smell from one another.” I turned over on my stomach with a half-stifled groan, so I could prop up on my elbows and look down at him. “So do you.” 

I felt someone else come close to the front for a second, curious. Marc folded his hands behind his head, listening. 

I shook my head, refocusing. I would have to get used to the constant movement between them, it was more than a little distracting compared to Bruce and Hulk. “But, anyway, they have a condition that causes a physical manifestation when they switch between alters. A pretty drastic change at that. So it made sense to me that they would smell like different people, but similar. But, there’s no physical change in your body when someone else fronts.”

“But we smell like different people?”

I nodded. “You and Steven do anyway. Similar, but distinct. My whole life I thought I just had a sensitive nose when it came to people. But, now I’m wondering if it’s maybe a kind of synesthesia? A weird sort of dual way my brain processes my empathic ability to differentiate between people.”

I felt that approach of another alter again. Marc smirked.

“What?”

He turned toward me a bit, looking up at me with his head resting on his bicep. The smirk had shifted, just a little playful, teasing. “What do I smell like?”

I leaned in slowly, nosing the collar of his button down and then caught on. I ghosted my nose and lips up to his ear. “That’s cheating, Jake,” I whispered, and their breath hitched a little.

“How did you know?” Still Marc, voice carrying the barest edge of nervousness.

I backed away. “It isn’t just smell. I can sense when someone else is close to the front, but not necessarily who. Something else I’d never known about my ability. The other system I know almost never co-fronts unless they are fighting for the driver’s seat, and then it’s really obvious. Most of the time they actively hate each other. There’s no conscious blending. Ever.”

“Not the best place to be with roommates,” he sounded like he knew. Then his focus shifted a little. He was better at masking their ‘inside interactions’ than Steven, who barely did at all, but not as good as Jake. Then, he smirked again. “Steven is worried about how he smells.”

I chuckled. “Don’t worry, you and Steven both smell nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “And Jake wants to know why not him?”

“I generally don’t notice it until I spend a decent amount of time in physical contact with someone.” I huffed, “Maybe that should have been my first clue. But I also have to be relaxed. The more stressed I am the less I pick up in general. My ability is so weak, I can drown it out with my own shit pretty easy.”

“You didn’t notice him last night because you were so upset.”

I nodded.

He smirked again, but it wasn’t Marc’s. “We do have all day, ángel .”

I laughed. “I dunno. Could you behave yourself, hombre descarado ?”

He took a look of melodramatic offense. “That you would suggest such a thing…”

“Hmm…” I smirked, narrowing my eyes and switching fully to Spanish. “You are not to be trusted, Señor Lockley.”

He rolled on his back, feet hanging off the side by the door and shifted so his face was nearly under mine, smoldering up at me. “Oh, cariña, you can trust me. I would be so good for you. As good as you want me to be.”

There was no guile in it, he meant it, but it wasn’t genuine either. It was a mask I’d seen other people wear, worn so long it was as much the truth as what he hid under it. Playful, caring, but shallow. This playboy was him, but also how he used his wit and his charm as a shell. If you didn’t care about him, you couldn’t hurt him. Connection without depth.

I shifted, moving one hand to caress his brow delicately with a fingertip and his eyes met mine. “I think you would, Jake.” I said gently, and he went still. “I think you want to believe you’re good.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead and his eyes fell shut. “I think you'd love for someone to tell you how good you are.” I ran my fingers through his curls, and just as a soft moan crept up to his lips he went still and then Steven was looking up at me surprised.

“Oh… hello. Well, this is a bit awkward…”

“Good morning,” I gave him an understanding smile. “Sorry you got thrown in, Steven.” I extracted my fingers from his curls.

“Not complaining!” He said quickly. “Umm… not a bad way to wake up at all, that. Not sure who’d run off!” I felt like that last bit wasn’t really aimed at me. 

I chuckled. “I guess I know how to make Jake tap out.” 

“Yeah… Not sure why, though. I wouldn’t if it were me. Oh! I mean, if you… uh…”

I smiled down at him. “Would you like that, Steven? Being touched like that?”

“Oh, heavens, yes.” Then his eyes got wide. “But I didn’t mean, I just meant someday- if someone wanted to- I mean-”

“Steven. You’re okay.” I brought my hand to his hair again, combing my fingers through from the front. “I love doing this. It’s one of my favorite things.” After a moment, he sighed, leaning into my touch. I laid my head down on my other arm, the crown of my head a few inches from his cheek, fingers idly playing in his curls while I tried to center myself. My eyes closed as I felt him relax under my hand, and I tried to assess what was happening with me.

I’d been doing well, physically, surprisingly well since I’d been on the road. I’d had fewer and fewer bad days like this, and I’d marked it down as generally being easier on myself. Activity when it felt good, working sporadically and rarely pulling the number of consecutive hours I used to, largely resting when I felt the need, minding my physical therapy. The Khonshu incident had been harrowing, for sure, and I’d been tired, but it didn’t make sense that I’d been feeling better, mostly tired and only a little in pain, before we hit the road and now my body felt like I’d been working doubles for a week straight. I remembered very well what that felt like. Sure, I’d felt worse. A LOT worse. But it had been quite a while since I felt this BAD. Like how I felt by the time we got to Louisiana following our race away from Milwaukee. It was like a really shit wake up call. That feeling when you thought maybe things could get better, and then you are demonstrably reminded they will not. Nothing in the world is like feeling like you’re in an abusive relationship with your own damn body.

I heard a little noise and looked up to see Steven, mouth open, gently snoring as I petted his hair. Well, shit, that’s fucking adorable. My hand stopped, and when he didn’t stir, I found the ability to get out of bed.

Chapter Text

I pulled myself from bed as quietly as possible. I got some pain meds and took care of necessities, then grabbed my go-bag from the front seat. I reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a slim gold chain. On it dangled two plain gold wedding bands and a small locket. I kept them, here, safe, where I would always have them close when I needed them, but I hadn’t looked at or worn them over my heart in over two years. After the first anniversary of their death, I had taken the chain off and put it away, no longer able to feel that reminder of them against my skin, see it every time I looked in the mirror, and keep moving in life. I would have stagnated, withered at my core had I continued. So I put them in a pocket. So I could keep moving.

Now, I looked down at Paul’s and my wedding bands, and the simple locket containing pictures of my children and felt something break at my core, knowing I had moved on. Not a guilt, but that was the closest word I had for what I felt, contemplating how long it had been since I dreamed of them dying, since I thought about Paul’s smell (knowing what that truly was now) and the sound of his voice and how his hand felt in mine. How excited Angus sounded while he infodumped at me about Pokémon, what Chloe’s laugh sounded like when she ran away with the spoon from the brownie batter behind my back.

I fastened the clasp of the chain behind my neck. I felt like I could look at it now. I could wear them over my heart and not be imprisoned by it, and I could wear Buck’s shirt and Stevie’s hoodie around me and wish they were holding me at the same time. I could hold them all. I had to. I needed to feel all of them around me in that moment. I took Lo’s collar from the console and put it in my pocket, fingering the bell like a touchstone. There were so many more people. People who had touched my life, come and gone in profound ways, but I didn’t have mementos of, only memories. Jen, Rory, Heather, Kyle, Milo, Logan, Hank, Remy, Anna-Marie and Kurt, Natasha and Clint. So many others. Some of them I might get to see again, some I knew I wouldn’t  And, I would do my best to hold them all.

I made a couple of sandwiches and then crawled back in bed with tea and a book to wait out the day with the van open to the fresh, dry, desert air. I learned Steven was the least restless sleeper I’d ever seen. That man stayed on his back in the middle of my bed, legs hanging off at the knees, feet on the floor, gently snoring until he finally stretched, yawned, and noticed I wasn’t in the same place sometime in the mid afternoon.

“Sleep well, bruv?”

“I did.” He rolled over to look at me, nested in the corner with my book. “Gosh, I can’t remember if I’ve slept that well… well, ever.”

I smiled. “I’m glad you got a good rest then. There’s a couple of sandwiches wrapped up in the cooler, and the water in the kettle’s probably still hot if you want tea.”

He grinned and got up. “Jake wants to go check on the car first.” 

I grinned. “Well, let’s not keep a man from his true love.” 

“Certainly not,” he grinned back, but he still took time to make a cuppa and took it with him.

It was Jake that came back, delving into the cooler and surfacing with a sandwich and a beer. “You want one, cariña?”

I shook my head, lifting my tea which I’d refilled when I got myself more meds while they were out. “I’m good, thanks.”

He settled in the open doorway, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a big bite. “Steven doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“What’s that?”

He lifted the sandwich. “He’s vegan.”

“Oh, I had no idea. I’ll have to remember that.”

“There’s no problem, ángel. We just swap out if there’s nothing he can eat.”

“Fair enough, but I will still try to keep him in mind. Best I can do for him at the moment is PB&J unfortunately.”

“He says thanks.”

After he finished eating, he climbed up onto the bed, leaning his back on the wall near my nest in the corner, beer in hand. “You okay, cariña?”

“Not really.” I shifted with a grimace. “My body just hates me today. And I’m worried about Jack. I thought he’d be here already. Now I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

“Hey,” he reached out and laid his hand over mine. “We’re not gonna leave you alone out here, cariña. We're gonna be here long as you need us. ”

I gave him a smirk, but it felt forced on my face. “Considering my feelings on your employer, that sounds like a threat.”

He returned it, but his wasn’t forced. “Only of a good time.” Then, I got that flash of protectiveness with a side of determination. “I told you, he’s not going to touch you again.” He gave my hand a little squeeze. “Get some rest, cariña. We’ll keep a lookout.”

I did my best to nap and take it easy for the next few hours, knowing we had a long haul ahead and appointments to keep.

Jack didn’t make it. We waited as long as I could stand, hours after our agreed plan, pulling back out on the highway around ten and heading toward San Diego for a supply stop, then north as the sparser highways of the west allowed through desert and mountain pass. Jake was leading the way to help us make up time, running interference on speed traps. Protecting this particular Traveler of the Night, along with a couple of others we picked up just south of Tonopah.

The B.A.D. Girls climbed in with a thumbs up and lounged in back, sucking down water and a quick meal before crashing for the three remaining hours to Reno. As we neared town, they changed into civilian clothes, stashing tactical gear in their duffles and I dropped them at a hotel they indicated. I asked them to keep an ear out for Jack and Antonio, worried that their mission had been compromised. Diamondback told me they’d had a message from Antonio saying it had gone off without a hitch and Jack had left on schedule. Then Asp showed me a news story corroborating that they had indeed cracked a family detention center wide open and gotten away, if not quite as clean as the first couple of breaks. They thanked me for sending them some muscle on their own mission, and I thanked them for all their hard work before getting back on the road and catching up with the Moon Boys an hour later near Frenchman Lake in Plumas National Forest.

I pulled up next to them, laying back on the hood of the town car, looking up at the stars. I got out with a little grunt. “Heya handsome, come here often?”

Marc smirked a little. “Nope.” He waved his hand at the sky. “I heard the show was damn good though.” 

I looked up at the unbelievably starry night just in time to see a streak across the sky. Then another. “Holy shit...”

He scooted over without looking at me. 

“I’ll get a chair.” I smiled and turned back to the van.

“Don’t wanna sit next to me?”

I huffed, and it sounded a little sad in my own ears. “Don’t think I could get up there without falling on my face today.” 

“Still a bad day?”

“Yeah… But that’s a struggle for me on an okay day.”

“Could you do it with a hand?” I looked up at him, and his eyes slid to the side a little as someone brushed close to the surface. “I mean, if you don’t feel up to it- I’m not trying to be pushy.” 

“I could try. Promise not to laugh at me if I wipe out? And Jake won't hate me if I scuff the hood?”

“Only a little,” he smirked. I felt that friendly little flush of affection behind it as he sat up and reached out for my hand.

I gave him a tired smile and clasped his hand, stepping up with my good leg and praying Jake wouldn’t kill me if I broke his bumper off putting my weight on it. He supported me with a firm grip on my hand and elbow, letting me take it at my own pace. Carefully. With a groan as I hoisted myself up. I managed to settle beside him with only a little difficulty on the slick, but light slope of the painted hood.

“You good?” he asked.

I nodded. “Thanks, Marc.”

We watched the sky together on the hood of the town car until I started shivering. He sat up and hopped down from the hood. I watched him go to the van and reach in. He came back with my comforter and climbed back up. “You weren’t really ready to go in, right?”

I shook my head. It was Marc’s voice, but it felt like everyone was close as they looped the big blanket around us and held up an arm for me to scoot close. I cocked my head a little, looking at them closely. 

He frowned, “If this isn’t okay, I get it.”

“No… I was just trying to figure out who I was talking to. It feels like everyone is here.”

“We are, I guess.” He smirked, “We got tired of arguing about who’s turn it was. Do you mind?”

I grinned and shook my head. “You argued over who was going to stargaze with me?”

“More who was going to keep you warm while we do, luvie.”

“Bold assumption that I’d let you.”

Steven gave me a look like he was trying to figure out how serious I was. “Why? You’ve cuddled up to all of us at this point.”

I laughed. “That’s fair.” I scooted over into their arms and curled up against their side, drawing the comforter over my legs and resting my knees against their thigh.

They pulled their side of the comforter around and we went back to watching the sky.

Lemon and gunsmoke… “Can I ask..? Why is this…”

“Why I’m okay with this when I’ve only known you a few days?” I offered. “Or why you are?”

“Is it ‘cause of your… ability?”

“Possibly. In part. But, it’s not like this with just anyone, if that’s what you mean.”

“No! No. I mean… me. Us.”

“Why? Do any of you plan to take advantage of me, Marc?”

“No, of course not!” I could feel the agitation and worried anxiety bubbling up that I usually felt more from Steven, but a bit different.

I chuckled and shushed him softly. “You’re okay, Marc… I was just teasing. I don’t think you would. Any of you.”

A tentative relief that made my heart hurt. I tried not to think about what happened to them that he expected to be rejected and thought ill of. “So you know, I don’t do this with everyone. I’m far more concerned that I would overstep your boundaries. That’s what usually happens. People just think I’m weird for not minding casual touch.”

The scent changed again. Sandalwood, of course. Then, something floral and herbal, with undertones of leather and smoke that reminded me of a really good aged mezcal. Anger and a fierce protectiveness that felt familiar. “Hi Jake.”

His arm around my shoulder gave a squeeze. 

I rested my head against their shoulder as we watched the night sky. “My empathic ability lets me read people’s intent pretty well. I’m hard to lie to, so I can generally tell if their words or actions are well-meaning. Sometimes it leads me to something a person needs. Something they need to hear or…” I leaned my head against theirs. “You’d be surprised how many people just really want touch from another person. Sometimes I forget that my ability to feel that is unique and I can make people uncomfortable because of it. That’s why I try to make it a point to ask. Explicit consent is important, I just sometimes get lost in what I’m sensing and forget I didn’t ask. That freaks people out, when I give them something close to what they want but didn’t ask for, like I read their mind. Or, they knew they wanted it, but weren’t ready to ask and they feel like I took their agency.”

He turned his head enough to kiss my temple lightly, lips ghosting against my hair as he spoke. “But, we don’t do this, cariña . Steven, maybe, but he never had the chance to get close to someone like this. Marc… that idiota is like an alley cat. Too suspicious to let people get close…”

“And you?” I knew the answer, but I wondered if he would tell me.

I felt the smirk in his voice. “Oh, I touch people plenty.”

I chuckled. “But it’s always sexual, rather than intimate, isn’t it?”

He flinched and there was a sharp intake of breath. Books and Earl Grey. “You spooked him again, I think, luv.”

“Oops.”

I heard the smile in his voice as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m not complaining.”

I gave him a hug and we settled back again. “Maybe it’s both of us having a connection with Him now…” I mused. 

He gave a thoughtful sound. “But Marc and I don’t work for him anymore.”

“Fair. But, even if Jake is the only alter with access to it, the magic is still rooted in the physical body you all share.”

“No, Marc, she turned him down. I don’t think he has that kind of-” They pulled away from me. I looked up and the line of Marc’s mouth was tight and angry. “You think he made us feel comfortable with you?”

I shook my head. “Not in a controlling way.” 

“You think what we’re feeling, how comfortable we are with you isn’t real.”

“No,” I looked up at him, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me or Khonshu. “Not that it’s forcing anything, but maybe the fact both of us have been touched by the same entity in that way helped subconsciously bridge that trust gap a little sooner than it would otherwise be. It’s just a theory…” 

I could feel the anger, something like betrayal rolling off him. I scooted away as I felt them start fighting, arguing between themselves, everyone close to the surface, but only hearing Marc. His Chicago accent voicing every fear I ever had about myself and what I was. 

I gingerly slid off the front of the hood, tears welling up in my eyes at what he was saying, rolling onto my stomach to catch myself carefully as my feet hit the ground. Then, I heard Jake curse fervently in Spanish, calling Marc any number of unsavory things and roundly insulting his intelligence. I stood up straight and turned to the van. 

“Wait! Cariña, please…” Jake rolled off the hood beside me.

“Sarah, we don’t-” Steven put a hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off. “Jake and I don’t think those things. Marc’s an idiot.”

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do force myself on people, conscious or not.” I sniffed, pulling the hoodie sleeves over my hands to wipe my eyes. “He’s certainly not the first to think so. Maybe there is something terrible about me, and it’s not even something I’m in control of.” 

“No… nonono, luvie, no.” Steven tried to wrap his arms around me.

I backed away, shaking my head. “I haven’t done anything to earn this. Marc isn’t wrong.  We hardly know anything about each other. We’ve known each other a couple weeks. There’s no reason for you to want to comfort me right now.”

“What? Of course we would! Marc was a right wanker to say those things about you! And to say it right after you explained to us how people…” He tugged me into his arms, hugging me tight. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve ever met, and the first to ever treat all of us like regular chaps.”

“Well, you are.” I said dejectedly. “That’s not hard.” 

He looked down at me incredulously. “Sarah, you’re the first person to ever make us feel like we aren’t some kind of broken freak. Even Layla thought we were a right nutter for awhile, maybe still does. Thinks Marc just needs to be fixed, right? That the right therapist and the right meds will make me and Jake go away, even if she does like me.”

I sniffed and wiped my eyes again. “You don’t feel like I took advantage of you?”

They were co-fronting so closely I didn’t feel a change before Jake groaned. “Wish you would, hermosa . It would be easier.” 

I barked out a surprised laugh.

Jake tucked a short curl behind my ear. “Even if that bag of bird bones had something to do with it, you never did anything we didn’t agree to or want. Me and Steven, we know what kind of person you are, ángel. Don’t care what that pendejo Marc says.”

I finally met their eyes. “Thank you…”

He pressed his lips to my forehead and I couldn’t help but smile.

“There’s a luv.” Steven smiled down at me. “Jake’s right. Marc can bugger off if that’s what he feels. I’m glad we met, even if there was some magic nudging things along.”

Now Steven pressed his face to my hair, squeezing me tight. “I don’t really think Marc feels that way either, y’know? He’ll come back around, too. Eventually he’ll figure out he’s self-sabotaging.”

I chuckled sadly. Too familiar…

Just then I heard a yowl. I looked up at them. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah…” Steven said, looking back over the top of the car. “What is that?”

I pulled away from him and around the car to see a small, inky blur, with glowing green eyes barreling toward us from the nearest part of the treeline. “Lokitty!” Then, from one breath to the next, I stumbled in the dark, tripping on the uneven ground, falling on my knees, and like she had teleported, she was suddenly in my arms, licking my tears and rubbing my face, and I was awash in the smell of warm fur and the smell of her that reminded me of the first snow and mulled wine and mint. “Lo! How- Where the hell have you been?! How did you-?” I hugged her fiercely, laughing. “Nobody’s ever going to convince me you aren’t magic now.”

Her purr felt like the rumbling of a freight train against my chest. “Oh, I know. It’s okay, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean it.”

She pawed at the pocket of the gray hoodie. I pulled out the collar and she nudged it urgently. 

I pet her head. “I hear you, friend, but we can talk about it later.” I scratched behind her ear and she leaned hard into my touch. “I think this needs to be a ‘thrice said and done’ sort of choice.” 

She pawed at the bell and I shook my head. “Same instance, Lo. I don’t ever want there to be doubts that this is something you chose.” 

She held my gaze for a long minute. Longing, sadness, guilt, want, and finally resolution. Eventually, she gave me a long, slow blink and pulled away enough that I could get up. 

Steven was there offering a hand. “This the famous not-a-cat, then?”

I grinned. “Yes. Steven, this is Lokitty. Lo, Steven Grant.” She sat and cocked her head before giving a little trill and padding toward the van. I chuckled. “I think she likes you.”

“Really?” It was so cute how pleased he looked about it.

“I think so.” I looped my arm around his to steady my steps through the grass back to the van. “Hard to tell sometimes, but she growled at Jack anytime she saw him touch me for a long time.”

“Well, s’pose I should take the compliment then.”

“Absolutely.”

Pretty soon, the cat had all but inhaled two cans of tuna, which wasn’t one of her preferences at all but was all I had, and the last of the deli turkey, then drank an obscene amount of water. “Christ, Lo, did you just not eat at all the last week?” She looked up and trilled at me.

She wandered off into the grass while I said goodnight to Steven with a hug. Jake kissed my cheek just as Lo came back and hissed at him. I didn’t know if it was the kiss or his connection with Khonshu that earned him a different reaction from Steven, but it earned her a laugh from all three of us. 

She tried to crawl under the covers with me immediately after I locked the van and I stopped her. “Oh, no, ma’am. You’re filthy. You will be sleeping on top until you’ve had a bath and a good brushing.”

She meowed at me.

“Well, maybe you should fucking think about that before you decide to run off and go on a surly walkabout across the Southwest.” She watched me as I settled and then laid on top of the comforter in her favorite place along my left side, purring loud as I’d ever heard as I scratched deep in her mane. “And, I swear, Lo, if you brought fleas in my van I’m gonna have you shaved again.”

Her purr slipped up an octave into the anxious zone and I drifted off with a self-satisfied smile.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I checked Lo very thoroughly for fleas, finding none. Truthfully, I hadn’t been expecting any as I’d medicated her just a couple of weeks before she disappeared. She looked visibly relieved when I announced myself satisfied. We hit the road, heading due west to catch the very scenic Highway 101. I kept our pace leisurely, trying not to push myself, taking plenty of breaks to stretch and move about, and stopping around dusk to settle in for the night. If you were going to be on the lam, you might as well see a few sights along the way, right? We took about three days meandering our way up the coastline, turning back inland on the fourth. 

Jake would inevitably head out some time at night, Khonshu taking him someplace he needed his avatar to be. He still had a job, after all. 

Lo was glued to my side. She barely wanted to leave me alone to walk inside a grocery store or go to the restroom or shower house. 

Until the second night when I decided to bathe her in the shower with me because she wouldn’t leave. Then, I brushed and combed her to within an inch of her life beside the campfire while Steven kept my tea full and regaled me with stories of the cults of Bast. Lo looked like she was being tortured in the worst way and I enjoyed every moment of petty satisfaction. She at least stopped trying to follow me inside buildings after that. 

I was also putting another mark in the “this is a magic not-a-cat” column because just in the few days since she’d been back I had a little more energy. Despite a raging headache the first couple of days, the pain had dwindled back to that constant throbbing ache in my joints rather than feeling like my bones were on fire. I also hadn’t had any nightmares.

She asked me again the third night, jumping up front and coming back to drop the collar on my lap in the bed where I was curled up with a book and a cup of tea. “Ok, this is twice, Lo.” I took it and set it on the shelf. She meowed at me.

“No, Lo, I told you. Thrice said and done. I want to know you mean it. That you really want to be here. You did magic on me without my permission.” I held up a finger as her ears flattened. “Even if it was to save my life, I deserve to know what happened to me, what you did, and what it cost everyone involved. And just for asking that of you, just for questioning , you lashed out at me. You actually claimed I had forced this on you. Made you come with me. That I had some kind of claim or hold over you.” 

I set my book aside. I could feel the hot tears stinging my eyes, and I tried to blink them back. “I can barely begin to tell you how much that hurt me, Lo. After all we’ve been through the last several months.” She laid her head down in my lap, looking just wretched. “I wondered… if that’s how you felt, that if I had really been holding you prisoner somehow… Why didn't you just let me die so you could be free of me?”

Lo was fully in my lap then, licking and nuzzling my face, purring high and needy, one paw against my cheek, the other on my shoulder. Sorrow, guilt, regret …and remorse. I sniffed, raised a hand to scratch her face. “Okay.”

She looked up at the shelf where I put the collar. “No.” 

She looked at me. “Same instance, Lo. I wouldn’t do it when you came back just because you missed me and wanted to take it all back. I won’t do it now just because you’re sorry for hurting me.”

She gave me a slow blink and rubbed her head under my chin. “I still love you, too. And, that’s still not enough. Not if you feel so seriously about it.”

She regarded me for a long moment. Then, she seemed to make a decision and moved to settle in her usual place.

The fourth day, in the early afternoon, we made it to Seattle.

“A University lecture? That’s what you wanted to come all the way to Seattle for?”

“Less the lecture, more who’s giving it.” I smiled at Jake, leaning across the diner table, snagging a couple of his fries. “I’m not exactly a genetics nerd.”

“And you couldn’t see this guy back in New York?”

“I don’t plan on going back to New York at all unless it’s a major emergency.” I smiled at him over my milkshake as he grabbed one of my onion rings in recompense. “He also refused to see me the last time I tried.” I didn’t bother to say the last several times.

“What makes you think he’ll see you now, cariña ?”

I smirked. “My talent for being a stubborn ass bitch.”

He laughed. Then he gave me a more serious look. “You’ll call me on the burner if you run into a problem.”

“Of course, bigotito.”  

He gave me a salty look. Marc had been a no show since our falling out, and Steven had agreed to go try and draw him back out, whatever that means when you all live in the same brain. But, that meant Jake had free rein until they came back and he was joyously regrowing a damn fine mustache while he got to drive the body full-time. Usually he had a costume one he wore when he got to front for an extended period, but they decided Marc didn’t get to veto ‘if he was going to be a right tosser to everyone’ as Steven said the last time I saw him.

We finished eating, I paid, and we walked back to the cars. Jake tugged me into his side and kissed my cheek, making sure to thoroughly rub the half grown facial hair against my skin in the process. “I’m going to convince you to let me kiss you while I still have it.”

I laughed. “I mean, if all you wanted was a kiss, you could also just ask me, Jake.” I stretched up and pressed my lips quickly, chastely, but firmly to his before breaking away and turning to unlock the van. I got in and turned around to see him watching me with that rakish grin of his. I waved and as I pulled away, I could see him laughing in the rearview mirror.

I sat through the lecture at the back of the room behind the cameras, my jeans, flannel, and WSU beanie and a pair of readers I picked up at a thrift shop on the way letting me blend reasonably well with the mix of grad students and higher level undergrads attending the lecture. Despite my mostly layman’s knowledge of the subject, I found it highly interesting, the hour passing quickly as I watched him pacing back and forth in front of the board, smooth and near predatory in his grace, making notes here and there in a slightly more labored version of his utilitarian script. Dr. Henry McCoy had always been an engaging lecturer, his delivery as riveting as his appearance in my mind.  What I found far more interesting at the moment however, was him.

I hadn’t seen him in person in a solid decade, well before this more recent tertiary mutation. He was still blue, vividly so. Now the hair that had covered his body was genuine fur. Darker, near black and longer over his head and around the sides of his neck, falling in a thick mane around the collar of his bespoke, black pinstripe, three piece suit and crisp white dress shirt. Still thick and barrel-chested and heavily muscled, but taller than he used to be and less crouching and simian in his gait. His hands and feet were still huge even in proportion to the rest of him and clawed, but his hands were no longer nimble fingered and elegant, but halfway between hands and paws. Instead of a mostly human face, broad and slightly tusked by his lower canines, his face was feline now, wide and short but not squashed through the muzzle, and well squared at the end with a prominent chin. His ears were round and set a little lower than the average cat, eyes still bespectacled but amber rather than sapphire. His voice was a solid octave lower in register and rougher, though he spoke with the same cultured cadence and tendency toward a 25 cent word where a nickel one would do. 

Where he used to be highly expressive and prone to smiles even in his work, he felt serious, even sad. Some of it was that his face didn’t move in the same ways, yes, but it was like a weight rested on him that he hadn’t allowed to burden him so much before. His energy felt less chaotic and more… guarded, his wit felt less fun and more… sharp.

The lecture wrapped and students filed out at varying scales of hurry, some pausing to ask questions or a very few to just offer admiration for his work. I came up behind the last few stragglers as he slipped a few papers into his briefcase, speaking up as they walked past me and away. 

“I found the part on regeneration of telomeres particularly interesting, Dr. McCoy. Do you believe that’s the primary mechanism for extended human lifespan across people with an active X-gene, or could there be others at work?”

He looked up. I think I actually surprised him from the way my name slipped from his lips, the flare of warmth. His nostrils flared a little, taking in my scent. Then, he blinked and shut it down. “What brings you to Seattle?”

“You, mostly.”

“Out causing trouble again, from what I hear.” He picked up his briefcase. 

“Only for the most deserving.”

“Does that include me?”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

He stopped, looking down at me for a long moment. Regret and remorse so strong I could feel it even not being strongly attuned to him anymore. Every line of his handsome face told me he did think he deserved it. Trouble, my anger, or anything else negative I felt toward him.

“I was hoping we could at least grab coffee while I was passing through.” I reached out for his arm and he seamlessly evaded my touch.

“Sorry, full schedule. I’m only here for the semester.”

“A beer? Are you free now? This is your last lecture for today, right? I can grab something and come down to the Lab, too, if you’re waiting for assays.”

“It was good to see you. Take care.” 

“Hank? Hank, please don’t. Hank!” He walked away, emotions a roil under the surface, easily outdistancing me as I limped after him.

I called Logan on the way back to the van.

“ ‘M sorry, short stack. I explained things to ‘im and ‘e-”

“Now he has guilt on top of the self-loathing,” I sighed.

He grunted an assent, then gave me an address.

“Guess I’ve gotta take things in my own hands if he’s gonna be this damn stubborn.”

Logan chuckled. “That’s my girl. Go get ‘im, short stack. Lemme know if y’need some muscle again.”

I grinned. “Will do, Fuzz. Love ya bunches.”

“You, too, darlin’.”

Lo was sitting on top of van trying to catch what little sun she could before it went down and in a brief reprieve of the near omnipresent drizzle.

“C’mon, partner, my night just got a whole lot longer.” She meowed and leapt down with a little “Mrrp,” slipping in the door ahead of me. I parked down the block from the highrise Hank’s short term apartment was in and fed Lo. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll be tonight, Lo, could be real short or sometime tomorrow. Would you rather be in or out?” She gave me the “let me out yowl” and I did, slipping out behind her with my go-bag and locking the van. “Be careful, sweetie.” She looked up at me with a slow blink, then trotted off down an alley. 

I dipped into the coffee shop across the street and posted up by a window until I saw him come home about an hour later. Hank didn’t enjoy public transport, mainly the Public part, but he saw the importance in helping to support it. And, driving wasn’t the easiest for him in his current form, I’m sure. 

I slipped in the building behind another couple, carrying a drink caddy full of coffee. “Dashdeliver, sorry.” They ignored me as expected and didn’t wait for me at the elevator. I quickly noted the mailbox number matching the apartment number Logan gave me and headed up the stairs. Slowly and uncomfortably.

I knocked on his door, and heard movement inside. “Hank?” I waited a moment. “Hank, I know you can hear me. Please, can we talk?” I waited a full two minutes. 

Then, I knocked again. “Hank, please open the door.” 

I knocked louder. “Hank,” I raised my voice, “I will make a scene in this hallway if you don’t bare minimum acknowledge me. I will embarrass you no end, because I have no shame, and you know it.” 

I waited a full minute and kicked the door. “Henry Philip McCoy open this fucking door, or I swear by every god listening I will shout in this hall all night long, or until I lose my voice! And then I will come back with Logan and break it down!” 

I kicked it again. “Open this fucking door and talk to me, you godsdamned cowardly sack of science trivia and literary quotes!”

“I have nothing to say,” I finally heard from the other side.

“Be the only time in your life , McCoy.” I hit the door. “Well, I’m gonna say my piece, Hank, and I will do it with the door open or closed.” I hit the door again with the flat of my hand. “ That’s the choice you get from me now! I will air every inch of this dirty laundry for every person in earshot, and whether it’s in the hallway for everyone to hear, or face to face like fucking adults is YOUR choice!” I waited two full minutes.

I hit the door again. “We were friends, Hank! You fucking abandoned me to wallow in your own self-loathing. You were right there , and you not only forgot me when I needed someone the most, but couldn’t be a bridge to someone else who would help me! If I should hate you for anything, it’s that, not whatever bullshit reason you came up with about your body and what you keep doing to it.”

Nothing happened. I could feel him on the other side of the door and I knew he could hear me. “I still love you,” I said quietly, “and I know you loved me once, Henry. You would just never believe it, and I wasn’t wise or confident enough in myself back then to kick you in the head.” 

Tears of rage welled up without my permission. “I thought at least we were friends,” my voice cracked and I took a breath to steady myself again, “we were good together, and the only thing that ever stopped us from being more than that was your own insecurity.” I leaned on the door. “Is this really what you want?” I pressed my forehead to the textured wood. “Hank, please,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to do this out here. Please, let me in.” I smacked my palm to the door again, but it didn’t have the power behind it anymore. “You could at least have enough respect for me to witness the pain your own actions caused.”

I heard movement and straightened. The door opened and I saw his face, leonine and sad. I looked up and met his eyes. “Let me in, Hank. Please.”

He did, and I all but fell through the gap in the door before I caught my feet and kicked the door shut behind me. I looked up at him, tears of rage still streaming down my face, and I hit him. I punched him with every ounce of the rage inside me. “Why, Hank?” All the frustration, “Why?!” and impotence “WHY?” and anger “Tell me WHY!”

He backed up with every strike of my fist, as though I had enough power in my body for him to even feel it, and it only pissed me off more. “You’re still running away from me! Fucking stop it ! Stop fucking pretending and be honest with both of us one goddamn time, Henry!” 

He froze and my next strike hit solid, unforgiving muscle. I’m glad I didn’t compromise my form or I’d have broken my fist. “I did it because you deserve better,” he growled as I shook my hand out.

“Better than what, Hank?” I palmed at the tears still flowing down my face. “Someone who’s kind and witty? Someone who keeps trying to do good in a world that rejects them?”

“Someone who can’t hide you.” He turned from me to move to his desk.

“Do you think that’s why I married Paul? To PASS?!”

“No.” He sat in the massive desk chair, sized for his bulky frame. “But, it’s one of many reasons why he was the better choice of partner.” The baritone of his voice was more bass and growly now than his previous form, but I knew the tone. He was going into Professor mode, deciding to not match my energy. By being above it rather than giving way in good faith.

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“And, yet…” He said, matter of factly, turning the chair to his papers.

“Don’t you fucking patronize me,” I seethed. “I don’t give two shits how many more decades, IQ points or fancy words you have. You’re as sophomoric as every other man I’ve ever met who was too smart for his own damn good.”

He gave me nothing but a slight tilt of his head and the irritated flick of an ear.

“Stop running from me, Hank. You know I’m persistent, and my next tactic is going to piss you off, I promise.”

He sighed my name like a chore and I hated him a little for it. “What do you want from me?”

“Turn around and look at me. We are going to have this conversation the same way we always have. How we should have in the first place.”

He grunted in amusement. “So you can use your talent on me? Make me see the error of my ways?”

I let the hurt color my voice. “You know better than anyone it doesn’t work like that. Especially not on you. I could never convince you of something you didn’t already know, Hank.” I came up behind him. “I just want you to stop running from it. Stop running from me.”

He gave a sigh of resignation and spun slowly around in his chair. He steepled his fingers in front of him, halfway between paws and hands now, his biceps and chest straining the confines of his dress shirt under the open waistcoat. He probably had to update his wardrobe again with his latest change. He’d always been bulky and barrel chested, even in pictures I'd seen of him in early adulthood, before he’d stopped taking the serum that held his mutation at bay and went blue full-time, but this new feline shape was a good deal taller and broader than the last, more simian look. The fact he was still wearing most of a suit right now, the black, pinstriped slacks cut to fit his muscular legs spoke to how uncomfortable he felt in this interaction, even as he manspread and leaned forward on the armrests a little. “Satisfied?” His sneer showed some fang and he leaned so his eyes were the same height as mine. 

“You know I’m not.”

He gave another little sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

I stepped closer, between his clawed feet, but still not touching him. “What do you need to say?”

He finally met my eyes, the slitted gold so different from the blue I remembered, but somehow still him. “You had a chance with Paul. A chance at a normal life, a good life. You deserved that.”

“And you don’t believe you do?”

“Look at me!” he snarled, “I was never going to have that or be able to give it to anyone else!” His lips curled back, showing his new, sharper teeth and larger canines, but we both knew it wasn’t going to intimidate me. He never had.

“Normal is overrated, Hank. Always has been. And I’ve never been that anyway, no matter what you think at the other end of the scale. People like Scott and Jean excluding me from the spaces I have a right to inhabit because I ‘pass’ doesn’t stop those categories from applying to me when the pitchforks come out. You’ve been othered most of your life by society at large, Hank, and I get that. But, so have I, BY the others. Whether through good intention or not I live at the edges of every room I inhabit.” 

He frowned and his ear flicked again. I should probably let him know about his new body’s tells eventually. 

“I’m a woman, but I’m not feminine enough or conventionally pretty enough because I’m fat and my body is fucked. I’m not straight, but being asexual means I’m not queer enough, and I’m not even ace enough because I’m sex favorable. I have the X- gene, but I’m not different enough or powerful enough for it to matter. I’m an empath that’s so damn subtle I barely blip Cerebra. I’ve seen street charlatans more adept. I can’t even control it except for turning it off by dissociating from my own body. And, really, it just means I spend most of my time touch-starved enough it feels like my skin is going to crawl off.” I crossed my arms under my chest, partly to self-soothe, and partly to keep from touching him without permission.

“But, you look me in the eye, Professor McCoy , and tell me any of that ‘not enough’ matters for people like me or my children when they’re out there talking registries and genetic testing at birth.”

He had the good grace to look away, his low-set ears drooping a little more.

“And now, I even have a disability, but I’m not disabled enough or fit enough for either any aid program or a normal life, even though I’ve started to forget what it felt like not to be in pain.

“I never asked for or wanted your misguided self-sacrifice, Hank. If you weren’t comfortable ever being more than friends and flirty cuddle buddies, for whatever reason, that’s fine, love’s beauty is that it can take a million shapes as long as you can be open to it. But cutting people out of your life when you know a simple discussion of boundaries would be sufficient is disrespectful and unfair to the both of us. You say you wanted to protect me, wanted me to not get hurt? Well, guess what, I got real damn hurt anyway and I endured it ALONE.” 

We remained in silence a long time as I stared at his downcast face. He was sad, guilty, frustrated… but, I guess, none of it enough to do something about it. I started to reach out, but stopped with a sigh, “Okay, then. I finally got to say my piece, and I’m pretty sure your atypical silence says yours.” I started to leave, blinking back the sting in my eyes, and mad at myself that I still cared enough to be upset. “Goodbye, Hank.”

Suddenly, there was a warm, furred paw wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me from turning away. I looked from his hand up to him. His face was so much harder to read now, didn’t give the same nuance to what I could feel, but he’d broken the touch barrier himself, so he wanted me to know. I raised my other hand to his face, offering, and when he didn’t back away I buried my fingers in the shaggy fur of his cheek.

He leaned into my touch. “I’m sorry.” He tugged me between his knees to wrap his long arms around me. He was of a height with me, even sitting down now. “My avoidant behavior has been unnecessary and wrong.”

“Don’t forget counterproductive and maladaptive.”

He huffed. “Ever the type to speak incisively to the heart. Also that.” He met my eyes again. “Will you be able to forgive my transgression?” 

Not can I, he knew better. “Perhaps with time.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his mane. “I missed all of you… I’ve missed you , Hank.”

“And I you, my dear. I am sorry.” He hugged me tighter, nuzzling into my hair just behind my ear, his hot breath huffing against my skin, taking in my scent.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. The stairs I had taken to get to Hank’s apartment hadn’t done me any favors.

He pulled back a little. “May I see?”

“Are you asking because Logan told you?”

“And, because I can smell your distress. The tension in your body speaks of chronic pain.” He cupped my face in a big paw, nuzzling the opposite cheek. “I want to know if I can help you.”

I pulled away, out of his arms. “Constant is more accurate, but it’s too little, too late, Hank. A dozen specialists in both burn trauma and radiation injuries have looked at me and shrugged. After they told me I’d hurt less if I lost weight. I’m not going to show you just so you can fuel your guilt.”

He frowned. “That is not my intention.”

“Maybe not, but you will. Fixing me won’t absolve you.”

He didn’t deny it, but he looked sad. “Would you truly not even give me the chance to make some form of amends?”

“I don’t have time for a physical and a barrage of tests, Dr. McCoy. I’m a fugitive. A person of interest.”

He reached out and took my hand again. He wanted me to feel his sincerity. “Sign a consent form so I can see your records and past scans, and I will be satisfied with a short physical examination and a blood sample. I can do that here and now.” He tapped his temple. “An eidetic memory is sometimes a blessing.”

I thought for a minute. Probably more than one. “Okay.”

He smiled for the first time since I had been here. It was still a good smile, if a little more fanged. “Excellent!” He was in instant scientist mode and before I knew what had happened, he had produced a kit from his desk, had my sleeve rolled up and an elastic around my arm.

“Fair warning, my veins are just as trash as they’ve always been. Also, how much do you pay for custom lab gloves? Don’t the claws trash them?”

He flexed a hand and the claws came out, and went back in. “Retractable.”

I smirked. “Good to know.”

“Never fear, my lovely friend, you are still in good hands.”

I looked down and he had already made the stick and was attaching the port. “How the hell…”

He gave me a sly smile, pushing a vial onto the port. “These hands may not be as dextrous as they once were, but I now have the advantage of a velvet touch.”

“And stealth it would seem.”

He all but preened, switching out the vial. He filled four, and taped a bit of gauze to my arm, directing me to the bathroom while he moved my samples to the fridge.

Chapter Text

I stood in the bathroom disrobing, folding each item and obviously wasting time, even to myself. Why did I suddenly feel uncomfortable about taking off my clothes? It was just Hank who would see me, after all. He’d seen me nude, both in a clinical setting and a personal one. Was it how I’d changed? I hadn’t felt this way about Logan seeing me. Was it the lights, stark and cold fluorescent rather than cool, gentle moonlight? It was a strange feeling, and unpleasant as I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to understand why I felt naked rather than just being nude. 

There was a gentle tap on the door. 

“Yeah, you can open it.” 

I heard my name, said softly, pulling me back. “Are you alright, my dear?”

I huffed out something like a laugh, but it sounded sadly near broken, even in my own ears. “I’m here. Let’s get this over with.”

He came in. He adjusted his glasses and directed me this way and that, seeing my body from every angle. His voice and gaze were blessedly clinical, his bedside manner always warm but peak professional. Then he squatted down, examining the structure of my scars, palpating here and there, gauging thickness and pliability. “Fascinating…” he muttered quietly.

I glanced at myself in the mirror again as he poked and prodded at my flesh, my arms hugging myself and I realized what was happening. For the first time since I had been injured, it wasn’t my scars I was self-conscious about. It was my body. The last time Hank had seen me at all was some ten years ago. I was in reasonable shape then, before I was married, before I’d had two children. It wasn’t the horrific burns marring my side. It was my belly, my stretch marks, my weight. All the other myriad ways my body had changed over the last decade that I barely noticed anymore. Hank and Logan were the first people I’d seen from back then, who knew me differently. And maybe the only people who could hurt me. I’d known Logan wouldn’t, but Hank already had.