Chapter Text
Jenna’s arms burn as she presses the bar above her and rests it on the rack. She sits up and takes a few gulps of water, stealing a glance at Steve who across the room, working through his own routine. Sweat glitters off his bare chest and his muscles strain under the weight of a full bar. He finishes his set and he glances at her, panting, and gives her a smile. She blushes and smiles back, kicking her legs back and forth, then he focuses back on his workout.
Her phone buzzes on the bench beside her water bottle, nearly making her jump. She reaches for it, expecting Natasha or Tony, maybe a work email, but instead, the number on the screen is unfamiliar. She frowns, then cautiously opens it.
Hey Jenna
Still interested in helping out?
Her pulse gives one hard, sudden kick, and she looks up at Steve. His back is turned to her now as he adjusts the weight on a machine, so casual for a moment where her stomach has suddenly gone a little tight. Jenna looks back down at the screen, then flips the app closed and sets the phone back down face-first beside her.
She picks up the bar again, but her focus and drive for what she was just doing is completely gone. Her mind starts racing, thinking about a hundred different things he could be trying to pull her into. Jenna pushes through another set a bit harder than necessary. She finishes a little earlier than she’d planned, wipes down the bench, grabs her bag and towel, and heads for the empty shower room, dropping her things onto the bench and crossing to the sink to wash her hands.
She catches sight of herself in the mirror and pauses. Her cheeks are a bit flushed and the freckles over her nose and cheeks have darkened from the summer sun. The bags beneath her eyes have finally eased, and her skin doesn’t look stretched thin with exhaustion anymore. She looks like herself again, or maybe a version of herself she hasn’t seen in a little while.
Jenna leans one shoulder against the wall and looks back down at the message waiting on her phone. She thinks about Steve, the distrust and unease she read in his face the night she reunited with Adam. This could be a hundred different kinds of bad idea. Adam could be keeping things from her, using her, or bringing her into something she can’t get out of. People change a lot in ten years.
Something tugs a little harder at her mind than anything else: I can help. Out in the world that Adam is connected to, there are children being held captive, experimented on, and being killed, all for profit. She saw enough with her own eyes to know how real this is. Regardless of who Adam is now, this part of his life is real and important.
She sighs, and types back:
absolutely.
***
Later that evening, Adam sends more than a single line: a time, an address, and a brief instruction to dress for movement. There are, however, no further explanations, details, or reassurances.
Dinner comes and goes in a blur after that. She is quieter than usual, though she tries to cover it up the best she can. She hopes no one notices, but it's quite obvious by the end of the night everyone has noticed something is off, because it seems like they’re all trying to cheer her up in some way. It makes her feel worse because it's not like she's unhappy, she's just incredibly nervous. More so, she’s nervous to bring it up to Steve, especially since their relationship is going so great and she doesn't want to do anything that might throw it off.
Jenna’s stomach tightens when they head upstairs. Steve walks beside her with one hand brushing lightly at the small of her back now and then, and she can feel questions building in him before he even opens his mouth.
They step into her room, and Jenna is fiddling with the lamp switch when Steve says, gently, “Do you want to talk to me about something?”
She looks over her shoulder apologetically for missing the latter end of his question. “What?”
Steve closes the door behind them and leans against it for a second, studying her face. “There’s something you want to tell me, right?” he says a little louder. “You look nervous. You don't have to be, Jenna, you’re safe with me.”
Jenna huffs a breath and looks away, setting her phone down on the dresser. “I know, I just…” She trails off, then gives a small shrug. “I don’t think you’re really gonna like it.”
That earns a flicker of concern from him, but all he says is, “Okay.” He steps farther into the room and gestures toward the bed. “Come here. Sit.”
Jenna hesitates, then obeys, crossing the room and dropping down onto the edge of the mattress. Steve sits beside her, close enough that their knees brush. She looks at her feet for a moment, then she looks to him, draws in a breath, and says, “Adam reached out to me.”
Steve’s eyes narrow for the briefest fraction of a second that wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone that wasn't her, and that is all it takes for Jenna to groan softly and drop her face into her hands. “I told you you’d have a problem with it.”
Steve’s eyes widen. “I haven’t said anything.”
She peeks at him through her fingers. “You didn’t have to. Your face said it all.”
That makes one corner of his mouth twitch. “Sometimes I forget how perceptive you can be.”
Jenna lowers her hands and gives him a look. “Well?”
Steve exhales slowly and leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs for a second before straightening again. He thinks before he answers, which she appreciates even if it makes her more anxious—though, he seems to sense that, and takes her hand in his and presses his thumb to her palm.
“Yeah,” he says at last. “I mean… you already know I don’t trust him, and I trust my judgment on people.”
Jenna nods. She trusts it too.
“And I’m not a hundred percent convinced this is a good idea,” he continues. “Maybe not even fifty.”
She plays with the ends of her hair with her free hand. “Okay.”
“But,” he says, “it’s your decision at the end of the day. I’m not going to stop you from doing anything.”
Jenna’s head lifts. “Really?”
His brows rise. “Really.”
“You’d let me go?”
The question makes his eyebrows crease, then he lets out a short breath. “What do you mean, let you go?” he says. “I’m not your boss.”
Jenna flushes immediately. “I know, that’s not—”
“I know what you meant,” he says, smiling, and presses her knuckles to his lips.
She ducks her head, smiling too. When she looks back up at him though, his expression is serious again. “Can I ask you something?”
She nods, “of course.”
”Why do you want to go? I mean I know the main reason why, but are there any other reasons?”
She thinks for a minute, and shrugs. “I want to help people,” she says first, because that part is obvious and true enough to say easily. “And I want to see what they’re doing, how they’re doing it. If they’re actually helping people the way Adam says they are, then I want to know. And if they aren’t…” She lifts one shoulder. “Then I guess I want to know that too.”
Her voice gets a little softer. “I haven’t seen him in ten years.” She looks at Steve with an expression that's more open than it was a minute ago. “Adam was one of my closest friends in ORCHID. He was like a little brother to me.” The corner of her mouth tightens. “I didn't know where he was or what he was doing, or if he was even alive for ten years. But he’s not dead, he’s here, and he’s… all grown up, and real, and I don’t know who he became after all of it.” She pauses, eyes flicking away again. “And I think I want to know.”
“And then, I guess there’s the other part that makes me feel shitty. I know I was a kid, and that none of it was fair, and I know Tony choosing me wasn’t something I controlled, but…” She laughs once under her breath, without humour. “What are the odds? Out of everyone there, I’m the one a billionaire took home. I’m the one who ended up safe, rich, educated, and successful.”
Her throat tightens a little around the words, but she pushes through it. “I made sure the others got money and homes, and support if they wanted it. I did everything I could think of at thirteen, but…” Her eyes drop to her lap again. “They still didn’t get what I got. They didn’t get this life, and sometimes that makes me feel sick. I think part of me wants to see if any of what I did helped in the long run, and if any of them are okay. If Adam is okay, maybe some of the others are too.” She lets out a slow breath.
Steve waits a moment, then nods. “Okay,” he says softly. “Yeah, that makes sense, Jenna. I want you to get the clarity you're looking for. I hope you do.” He gives her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me.”
She nods, relieved, though she’s a little embarrassed by how much she needed him to understand. “Yeah, ‘course. Thanks for listening.”
“Can you promise me one thing, though?”
“What?”
“Keep me on your comms.”
Her brows lift a bit.
“Just in case,” he says. “If anything goes south, I want to be able to help you.”
She sighs, then smiles. “Yeah, I will.”
Some of the tension leaves his face. “Great.”
He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Never be afraid to ask me anything, okay? I’m here for you. No matter what. No matter what direction this goes, I’ll be there.”
Jenna looks at him for a long moment. There are still parts of her that don’t know what to do with that kind of devotion, and parts that keep waiting for terms and conditions to reveal themselves. She nods, “okay.”
He gives her knee one light squeeze. “Okay.”
Jenna glances toward the dresser where her phone lies, the locked screen hiding Adam’s address beneath black glass. “I should get ready then.”
Steve nods and stands with her. “You want me to help you gear up?”
“Sure,” she smiles.
Jenna changes into black tactical suit while Steve checks over a compact comm unit and makes sure the frequency is linked cleanly to his. He hands it over and she clips it on, then he hands her hearing aid to her, which she would’ve forgotten if it weren’t for him. When she finishes lacing her boots, she straightens and finds Steve watching her in an attentive and slightly worried way. So, she steps into him and wraps her arms around his middle, and Steve catches her.
“You’ll hear from me,” she says into his shirt.
“I know.”
“If I need help, I’ll say so.”
“You better.”
She tips her head back enough to look at him. “You say that as if I’m terrible at asking for help.”
He gives her a look, and Jenna winces. “Yeah, well, at least im trying.”
He bends and kisses her forehead. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
***
Jenna parks six blocks out. The building Adam texted her looks unremarkable on the map—yet another industrial sprawl tucked between an auto yard and a row of aging storage units—though the neighbourhood around it is suspiciously sparse at this hour.
She taps the comm in her right ear. “I’m here. Keeping it on.”
Steve’s reply comes a couple seconds later. “Copy.”
She slips out of the car, locks it, and takes the rest on foot. The route Adam gave her leads to the rear of a half-abandoned lot where overgrown weeds push up through cracked asphalt and rust streaks the siding of a long cement wall. She slows, listening, and catches the murmur of voices up ahead and the scrape of a boot on gravel. She rounds the corner to see three shapes are gathered behind a low concrete loading platform half-choked by vines—Adam, Kumari, and Finn. She comes up behind them so silently that Adam only notices her when she is already there, crouched in the dark at the edge of their little huddle.
He turns, slightly startled, then huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. “Damn.”
Kumari’s shoulders tense on instinct, turning half toward Jenna before she recognizes who it is. Finn’s hand goes briefly to the knife at his hip, then falls away again. Adam looks her over once, a quick sweep that catches everything from her double knotted boots to the wire tucked discreetly in her ear.
“You’re still as good as you used to be,” he says softly. “Thought you would’ve grown rusty over the years.”
Jenna crouches beside him, settling her weight on the balls of her feet. “Maybe this is your sign not to underestimate me.”
“I’m beginning to think I made the right choice reaching out to you,” he smiles.
Kumari however does not look impressed. Her gaze flicks over Jenna and away again, sharp and appraising. Finn is less obvious about it, but no warmer. He stands a little apart from the rest of them, pale in the low light, and the ridges beneath the skin of his forearms are visible where his sleeves are shoved up.
“Does she know the plan already?” Kumari asks Adam, meaning Jenna without looking at her.
“Not much,” Adam replies. “I’ll catch her up to speed.”
He gestures to the building ahead of them. “This is a fairly small operation, we think it’s a temporary holding point a few blocks past that direction. I wanted to start small, get you familiar with the kind of thing we do and how we run it. We’ve been tracking some movement through this block for a few nights. They rotate personnel and move products quickly, so that usually means somebody’s testing routes or making pickups from a supplier farther up.”
Jenna’s gaze narrows on the low, near-windowless building. It has a side annex and what looks like a detached storage unit near the back. “How many inside?”
“Eight, maybe twelve,” Adam says. “More if they called extras.”
Finn speaks with a soft voice. “A few on the east side. Couple on roof. Few others by the back loading door that we’ve seen.”
“And people being held?” Jenna asks.
Adam nods once. “Almost definitely.”
He crouches lower, using a gloved finger to sketch a rough map in the dirt of the main warehouse, side entrance, and detached storehouse along with exit points. Jenna leans in, following every line. Kumari points to a few blind corners, murmuring that there are cameras but they cycle slowly. Finn notes a few electrical panels near the rear alley and main entrance.
Adam taps the center of the sketch. “Kumari and Finn will circle east and sweep the perimeter, taking out any stragglers or backup. Jenna and I will cover the west side and work toward the main structure.”
Kumari glances at Jenna with a blank expression. “You sure about that?”
Adam doesn’t look away from the dirt map. “Yep.”
The others peel away a minute later with barely a sound, vanishing into the dark like they were never there. Adam waits until they are clear, then rises into a half-crouch and motions Jenna after him. They move along the outer wall in silence, keeping low beneath the line of a broken fence. Far off in the distance a truck shifts gears on a main road, but out here the quiet is thick enough that every brush of fabric feels loud.
After a minute, Adam says quietly, “Before we start.”
Jenna glances over to see his attention fixed on her ear. She reaches up automatically, touching it lightly. “It’s okay, I came alone.”
Adam’s eyes lift to hers. “Is your boyfriend on the other end?”
Jenna exhales softly through her nose. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Hard not to.”
“It’s just in case we need backup.” She tilts her head. “Trust me, alright?”
She reads a look that crosses his face for a second and sees an irritation at the existence of a man he has already decided he does not particularly care for, coupled with the old instinct to keep danger self-contained. He looks away. “I trust you.”
The implication that this trust does not necessarily extend beyond her is clear enough that Jenna almost smiles. “Good,” she murmurs.
They keep moving, and somehow it becomes easier than Jenna expected it to be. The years between them are still there, a little heavy and full of unknowns, but the air between is anything but clumsy. Their timing slips into place with almost no effort; when she stops, he stops, when he shifts, she understands why without needing to speak.
A few minutes later, crouched behind a line of stacked oil drums while they wait for a guard’s cigarette break to end, Adam glances sideways at her and whispers, “You getting comfortable? You're starting to walk louder.”
Jenna turns her head slowly. “I am not.”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“You’re lying.”
“Swear on my life.”
She stares at him for a second, then shoves his arm with her knuckles, just like they used to do all those years ago. Adam mocks looking offended, and Jenna bites back a smile. Being with him feels comfortable in a way she had not prepared for. There is too much history beneath it for it to be simple, but the bond is there all the same, built in a place so few people could understand that maybe no one outside it ever really will.
They slip around the side of the annex and flatten against the wall beneath a narrow strip of dirty windows. Adam braces one arm above her shoulder and peers in through the lower edge of the glass where the grime has been clumsily wiped away. He shifts back toward her, about to murmur something, and then pauses as his eyes catch on the small piece of tech nestled in her left ear. His hand lifts automatically, but it stops short just before his fingers reach her skin.
Jenna turns her head slightly. “What?”
Adam’s gaze flicks from her face to the hearing aid again. “What’s—”
He stops himself, then an understanding dawns on Jenna. Her own hand rises to touch it. “Oh,” she shrugs one shoulder. “It’s from an injury. My hearing…”
“It wasn't from before, was it?” He asks.
She shakes her head, “kinda recent. I’m sure you heard about the gala…”
Recognition flickers across his face, but it's clear he never kept up with the details. “Ah, right. Sorry that happened. Does it bother you?” He asks.
“Sometimes,” she says. “But I try not to let it.”
His eyes soften and he nods, accepting that as the end of it, and looks back through the window. A few minutes later they cut across a patch of shadow between buildings and drop behind a low concrete barricade overlooking the back stretch of the property. From here they can see their target more clearly: a detached storehouse with a yellow bulb burning over the side entrance and three armed men standing outside it. One of them is leaning on a crate, the other is smoking, and the third is pacing back and forth near the door with the bored restlessness of someone halfway through a shift he thinks will stay easy.
Adam stills beside her and lets out a quiet, humourless little huff. Jenna glances at him as he pulls a handgun free, checking the angle with calm familiarity. “This is easy,” he murmurs. “You still as good a sniper as you used to be, Ace?”
Jenna turns her head sharply as her whole body prickles with alarm. “It’s Jenna.”
Adam flinches, and she sees the realization cross his face a fraction too late. She knows it’s an old reflex, but still, hearing it puts her on edge. He looks back toward the men as if he can outrun the misstep by moving on. “Right.” He lifts the gun slightly, sighting toward the man by the crate.
Jenna’s hand closes over the barrel, pushing it down. “You’re not just going to kill them in the street, are you?”
He turns his head slowly to look at her, brows raised. “They’re trafficking people.”
“I know what they are.”
“Then what’s the issue exactly?”
Jenna tightens her grip, forcing the muzzle down another inch. “The issue is that you’re about to put a bullet in a man’s head before he’s even had the chance to surrender. We’re going in non-lethal.”
Something hardens in Adam’s face at that. “He’s standing guard outside a building holding kidnapped children,” he says. “I’m not interested in hearing his side of the story. They’re bad people, Jenna.”
She keeps her voice low. “Trust me, I know they’re bad people. That’s what prison is for.”
A humourless little breath leaves him. “Prison,” he looks back toward the men. “You really believe it’s that easy?”
She narrows her eyes, though she's not convinced at her own argument. “Yeah.”
Then Adam says, “Yeah? Last time I checked, you didn’t feel that way about Hastings.”
Jenna’s pulse picks up and she shivers at the name. It makes her blood boil, and the mention of it makes her even less convinced o her argument as memories flood in.
“You put a bullet through his skull with no hesitation at fourteen—”
“Adam—”
“So don’t stand here and sell me a version of you that doesn’t exist.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’m not doing that.”
“No?”
“No.” Jenna keeps her hand on his gun, forcing it downward every time he tries to raise it by even an inch. “But we aren’t the people we used to be,” she tries. “We broke out of ORCHID for a reason. I didn’t claw my way out of that place just to spend the rest of my life acting like they were right about what we were good for.”
Adam’s mouth twists. “Speak for yourself.”
“Jesus—I am speaking for myself.”
“I can tell,” his tone comes across a bit bitterly. “You live in a high security compound, you’re the heir to Stark Industries and you go home to America’s Golden Boy. Of course you think the system works if you just hand the right men over to it.”
She understands there’s more to this argument, the imbalance of the straws they drew and how different the lives they lead are now, but still, a pulse of anger flashes beneath Jenna’s skin. “That’s not fair—”
“Isn’t it?” Adam’s mouth twists. “Last time I checked, the world’s kinder version of justice didn’t save us.”
“Neither does this,” she snaps, gesturing at the gun in his hand.
“It stops them from hurting the next kid.”
Jenna’s grip tightens and her stomach twists. “You don’t know that.”
“At least I’m not arguing for something I don't even believe.”
Jenna’s brows knit. “What?”
“You want them stopped too,” he says. “I can see it written all over your face, you want them gone. You just need to be able to tell yourself you did it the clean way, so you can sleep at night pretending you’re not still capable of the exact same things I am.”
Her hand falls from his gun as his words hit the wound she’s been living around for years, working, building, and bleeding to outrun. “Fuck you,” she says. She starts to get up, but Adam catches her by the wrist before she can fully pull away.
Jenna whips back toward him, ready to tear free, but he’s shaking his head once. “Jenna,” he says tensely. His fingers loosen slightly around her wrist and his eyes flick over her shaken expression. She sees regret in his eyes, not enough to undo anything he said, but he knows he went too far—turns out he’s still as hotheaded and impulsive with his words as he used to be.
“Fuck—fine, Jenna,” he says again, rougher now. “Okay. Just… stay.”
The words fall strangely between them. Stay with me, stay on my side, stay long enough to see what I mean.
Adam swallows whatever else he was going to say and forces the next words out instead. “We’ll do it your way, alright? I promise.”
She looks over him as her mind spins, trying to work out the choice she needs to make. She can imagine Steve on the other end of her line, listening in and praying she makes the right move. He has just proven, with horrifying ease, that killing these men would mean nothing to him beyond efficiency. He would do it without hesitation or losing sleep. But… he still stopped her, and is looking at her like her answer matters more than anything in the world. It would be easier to leave him right there if he were crueler, or he didn’t keep making room for her despite the differences in what they believe. Besides she's seen the kindness in him, and maybe she can pull him back from this edge and prove to him that he’s better than he thinks he is.
Jenna slowly pulls her wrist free, and crouches back down beside him a bit more cautiously than before. “Fine,” she says. Adam nods, and listens to her instructions.
Jenna circles wide while Adam draws the pacing one closer with a soft scrape of gravel tossed into the dark. The man turns, muttering something to the smoker by the door as Jenna comes in from his blind side. Her arm hooks hard around his throat, her knee drives into the back of his leg, and she uses his own weight against him to drag him backward behind the concrete barricade. He gets half a shout out before cracks the butt of her gun into the man’s temple.
The smoker spots their movement and swings his weapon up. Jenna drops flat behind a stack of old pallets as gunfire cracks through the yard and splinters explode near her shoulder. Adam vaults sideways, throwing his body behind the crate stack near the door.
“Still think prison is easier?” he mutters.
Jenna grits her teeth, pulls a knife from the inside of her boot, and sends it flying into the smoker’s forearm. He screams and drops the gun, giving Adam time to drive him into the side of the storehouse hard enough to knock the air out of him. He lands a sharp hit to the man’s jaw, then to his temple, and the smoker folds.
The third man bolts inside for them to follow. The storehouse is cramped and stale-smelling, stacked with crates, cheap folding tables, and shelves full of questionable boxed supplies. There’s a small office in the back with a flickering monitor, a hallway beyond that, and two more armed men Jenna hadn’t seen from outside. One raises his gun the second she and Adam enter.
Jenna ducks behind a shelf as bullets punch through cardboard two inches from her head. Adam barrels forward with impossible speed and takes one man down in a collision of fists and snarled curses. Jenna shoots the second in the thigh when he tries to angle for Adam’s blind side, and drops.
“I’m very proud of you for that one,” Adam says.
“Shut up.”
Jenna is halfway through clearing the office when a gunshot cracks to her left. She turns a moment too late, but Adam covers her, throwing himself in front of her so fast she barely tracks it. His wing snaps open, curving around her body in a shield. The bullets hit it with sickening, heavy thuds, and his whole body jolts with the force of it.
“Adam—”
“I’m fine,” he bites out, though she can see the pain flash in his eyes. He surges forward and smashes the gunman into the wall, then drives his forearm across the guy’s throat just long enough to make him panic before knocking him out cold. Silence drops in after that, save for one groaning man holding his bleeding leg.
Jenna rushes to Adam’s side, hand outstretched towards his wing. “Let me take a look.”
He flexes the wing once, grimaces, then folds it tighter. A few feathers drift loose to the floor. “I said I’m fine.”
“You got shot.”
“What a terrifyingly new experience,” he jokes coldly.
The sound of a high pitched sneeze coming from the next room cuts them off, and Jenna starts towards it, followed by Adam. They find the kids in a locked supply room at the end of the back hall, accompanied by a dirty blanket in one corner, two juice boxes sitting empty on the floor and a plastic chair. The girl looks to be in her pre-teens, tall and thin and standing in front of the boy in a stance that says she's decided she’ll die before she lets anyone through to him. The boy looks quite a bit younger than her, wide brown eyes with one arm wrapped around his middle.
“It’s okay,” Jenna says immediately, lowering her gun and putting both hands up. “We’re here to help.”
The kids both take half a step back. Adam steps into view at Jenna’s shoulder and his voice drops. “You two hurt?”
The boy shakes his head quickly. The girl says, “Who are you?” Their voices are muffled through the door, but still understandable.
“I’m Adam, this is Jenna. We’re getting you out of here,” Adam says.
Jenna works the lock while he keeps talking to them in that steady, unshowy way he has with frightened kids. She catches herself watching him and has to shake it off when the door swings open. The girl only moves when she sees the unconscious men on the floor behind Adam and Jenna, reaching towards her brother and guiding him out of the room.
They check the last few rooms, but they’re all empty. “Looks like this is it,” Adam reaches for his comm. “We’ve got two. The site's blown, you're free to go. Meet you back at the base.”
The answer crackles back almost immediately, but Jenna is barely listening, all she can focus on is how terrified these kids look.
Jenna lowers herself a little so she’s more eye level with them. “Hey,” she says gently. “Do you know your names?”
The girl hesitates. “Anna.”
“Jaden,” the boy manages.
“Okay.” Jenna nods once. “Anna, Jaden, you’re safe now, alright? I promise. You got a family looking for you?” Jenna asks.
There are immediate nods from both of them. Anna answers first. “Our parents.”
Jenna’s heart twists. “Do you remember where you were before you were taken?”
“Yeah,” Anna says quietly. “We were on a camping trip.”
“Do you know the name of the place?”
She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head.
Adam glances at Jenna. “I’m calling it in,” she says
Adam’s expression closes off a little. “Jenna—”
“I can guarantee you they’re already part of a missing persons case.” She says in a hushed but firm voice. “The cops can get them home.”
He studies her, then looks away. “Alright, sure.”
Jenna doesn’t miss the edge in it, but right now she doesn’t have the time or energy to care. She leads them out of the building and calls emergency services herself with enough information to get the right people moving fast. By the time sirens start building in the distance, which is Adam’s cue to leave, Anna has stopped visibly shaking quite so hard, though she still keeps one hand on Jaden at all times.
The local cops know exactly who Jenna is, which helps more than it should. There’s the usual flash of surprise when they realize who’s standing in the middle of a wrecked storehouse with a batch of traffickers on the floor and two missing kids tucked behind her, but it passes quickly into efficiency. Jenna gives them a version of the truth that's close enough to what happened, and frankly, no one seems especially inclined to question whether Jenna Stark is capable of taking apart a handful of traffickers by herself. The officers move quickly after that, restraining and taking the men away, and bringing in EMTs for the kids. A missing persons confirmation comes through over radio chatter within minutes.
One of the officers, older and tired-eyed beneath his cap, comes back over to Jenna after getting the basic statements. “We’ve got the report,” he says. “They were taken from a campground near Saranac Lake. We contacted their parents and they’re waiting for their return.”
Relief moves through her so fast it almost leaves her dizzy. “Good.”
“They’ll be taken to the hospital first for a few extra tests, then reunited with their parents.” He gives her a look that is equal parts respect and disbelief. “You did good work tonight.”
Jenna glances at the kids and nods in thanks. Anna is wrapped in a blanket now, sitting on the back step of an ambulance with Jaden tucked hard against her side. They both look exhausted, but more present than they did ten minutes ago.
Jenna walks over before the doors close and crouches down carefully in front of them with her forearms braced over her knees.
“They’re going to bring you home,” she says. “Everything’s okay, and you’ll see your parents soon.”
Anna’s eyes shine, though she nods like she’s trying very hard not to fall apart. She gives a quiet thank you, and Jaden echoes it a second later, softer still.
Jenna smiles, small and tired and genuine. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you two are safe.” She steps back after that and lets the EMTs close the doors.
By the time the ambulances pull away and the statements are done and the last of the obvious questions have been asked, the night has deepened. She checks her watch which reads 1:43am. The adrenaline wears off in an all too familiar way that leaves her feeling heavy and tired.
She exhales and taps her comm. “Steve.”
His voice answers at once. “Talk to me.”
“It was a success.”
The relief in the silence that follows is almost visible. “You okay?”
“Yeah. We got a couple kids out.”
“Good.”
There’s a moment of silence before Jenna addresses the cause of it, of everything he heard over the line. “He kept his promise. No one was killed. I think it’s gonna be okay, Steve. I think… I think I can manage it. I can help him.”
A few long seconds pass before she hears him say softly, “okay.”
She exhales, and closes her eyes. She knows she wasn’t able to convince him, but she will. She’ll show Steve she can do it.
“Let me know when you’re on your way back,” he says.
“I will.”
She cuts the line and walks back across the quiet lot toward where she left her car to see Adam leaning against the hood in the dark. He straightens when he sees her. “You took forever.”
Jenna unlocks the car with a click and arches a brow. “I got it sorted. Kids are alright. They’re going home.”
That gets a grin out of him, all dimples, teeth, and charm. “You did good with the cops.”
“You did good with… everything else,” she says before she can stop herself.
That seems to please him more than he lets on. His grin softens at the edges, and for one brief second he looks almost boyish again, like the years between then and now haven’t carved quite so much out of him. Then he says, “Come over for a few drinks.”
Jenna looks up. “What?”
“We should celebrate this victory together. Your first run was a great success.”
She huffs a tired laugh and reaches for the handle. “I don’t know, I’m tired…”
“Come on, Jenna.” He pushes off the hood and steps close enough that she has to look at him. “When’s the last time you let loose a little?”
She opens her mouth, mind flashing to Hawaii, but he keeps going. “Just a drink or two. We’ll have you home before the sun rises.” His mouth curves as he leans in a bit. “Your boy won’t have to worry. I’ll get you home safe and sound.”
She should probably say no, for a million reasons. It’s late and she’s tired and Steve is probably awake waiting for her. But tonight was a success, and some reckless and relieved little part of her wants to sit somewhere hidden from the world and feel that for an hour before responsibility catches up again.
She groans softly and tips her head back toward the sky, “ugh, fine.” She lifts a finger. “One drink. Then I’m going home.”
Adam’s smile widens. “Atta girl.”
***
By the time they pull up to the safe-house, Jenna’s body is solely running on the promise of a bit of alcohol. This place is different from the first safe-house she saw with Adam in a more lively and open way. It’s tucked inside the shell of what used to be some kind of old community centre and the outside is forgotten by the city, but the inside is warm and full of light and movement. There are many people awake despite the hour, some coming and going with supplies, some gathered in the wider room off the entrance with drinks in their hands and music coming from an old speaker somewhere near the back. Jenna assumes the celebratory atmosphere is because of the good news… or maybe they do this every night. She’s not sure.
The second Adam walks in, a few heads turn, and surprisingly some are openly pleased when they realize he has brought Jenna with him. Finn is the first to step over, and he looks from Adam to Jenna with an unspoken question.
“The kids are on their way home,” Adam says. “Taking a stop at a hospital for some tests, but their parents have been looking for them. It’s all taken care of.”
Finn nods, looking relieved. “Good work tonight, Jenna.”
She thanks him, careful not to show how surprised she is at his compliment.
Music drifts through the space, more bottles come out and glasses appear. A couple of tables are crowded with opened snacks and card games no one seems invested in anymore.
Adam glances at her. “Still only one drink?”
Jenna opens her mouth to say yes, but Kumari interrupts by passing by and pressing a glass into her hand without even asking. Jenna looks down at it, then at Adam, who’s grinning, and she drinks. And then, because it has been a long night and her body is starting to realize it has made it through something hard, she lets herself have another. Then a third, which is when she stops counting as carefully as she should.
The drinks creep up on her, loosening the knots in her shoulders one by one until she realizes she is sitting cross-legged on an old couch with her boots kicked off, laughing at something Kumari said from the armchair across from her. Hill is here too, having returned at some point while she was distracted. He looks less stern since the last time she saw him, maybe since he’s off-mission. Finn has claimed the table and a deck of cards and keeps trying, unsuccessfully, to convince anyone else to care about the game he has started dealing.
Somehow, Jenna is able to make the group of them laugh with a story when Kumari glances up at her and says, with complete honesty, “You’re so much better like this.”
“Better like what?” Jenna asks.
Kumari takes a sip of her own drink. “Drunk.”
Adam, who is sprawled beside Jenna, lets out a low laugh.
Jenna points at Kumari with all the gravity she can manage, which is not much. “That is so rude.”
“I'm sorry, but it’s true,” Kumari says.
“How?”
“You’re less...”
Finn glances up from his cards. “Uptight.”
Kumari nods. “That.”
Jenna looks scandalized. “I am not uptight. No one has ever said that about me.”
All three of them look at her with raised brows.
“Thats hilarious,” Adam says in a dry tone.
Jenna stares at him for half a second, then starts laughing because she is drunk enough for that to be genuinely funny. “Oh my God. I hate knowing how I’m being perceived. I don’t wanna hear anything else about what you think of me.”
Hill, quiet until now, lifts his bottle slightly. “You loosen up okay. We mean it as a compliment.”
“Well, I feel like that’s the nicest thing anyone here has said to me, so I’ll take it” Jenna says.
“Low bar,” Finn mutters.
She ends up staying on the couch with Adam while the room shifts around them. People drift in and out, music changes mood and tempo, more bottles are opened and more are drunk. She loses track of exactly when it happens, but at some point the conversation narrows until it is just the two of them talking while the others orbit at the edges.
They talk for what feels like hours, then eventually they’re the only ones left with only a bit of quiet music in the background. First they chat about the work he does, about the ways the routes around the city have changed in the last two years. Then less important things like whether the city has always smelled this bad at night or if it is getting worse, about Tony, briefly, and the compound, and how Adam thinks it’s both amazing and insane that she has a huge area to surf inside her house. Adam talks about Hill, Finn, and Kumari, when they first met each other.
At one point Adam asks, “So how did you meet him?”
Jenna is warm enough from the alcohol that she does not even pretend not to know who he means. “Steve?”
Adam tilts his glass at her. “S’there another blonde symbol of American righteousness in your life I should know about?”
Jenna laughs and shakes her head. “No.” She can feel how wide she’s smiling, the way her whole face changes when she talks about him. There is no stopping it and no point trying.
Adam notices, of course. “There it is,” he says.
“What?”
“That look.”
She narrows her eyes at him, though without any real bite. “You’re annoying.”
“Tell me.”
She peeks at him from the corner of her eye, smiling despite herself. “Hmmm. Well, it wasn’t really romantic at first—”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She nudges his foot with hers under the table, and he nudges back, but she gives in. “The first time I saw him,” she says, “I walked into my kitchen and there he was. Just standing there.”
Adam’s brows go up. “In your kitchen.”
“In my kitchen,” she repeats.
“Crazy story.”
“Shut up.” She tucks one leg under herself and keeps talking, the memory coming easier than she expects. “I’d heard about him from literally everyone before that, obviously. You couldn’t not hear about Steve in that place, especially since my dad worked with him on multiple occasions. And then one day I just… walked in and there he was.”
Adam is grinning now. “Go on.”
“I gave him a tour.”
“Of…?”
“Of the compound,” she rolls her eyes. “Come on, Adam.”
“Right. The place you live.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
She takes another sip and feels her cheeks warm more, though maybe that is not entirely the alcohol anymore. “And then we ended up sparring.”
Adam’s face changes, and sits up straighter. “Goddamn.”
Jenna laughs. “What?”
“You tried to beat up Captain America the first time you met him?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“The first thing you did after showing him around your giant house was throw punches?”
She is laughing too hard now to sound offended. “It was a light spar… but I did get a few good hits in.”
Adam points at her with his glass. “That is the most Jenna thing I’ve ever heard.”
She giggles, “aaaanyways. I dunno, he’s just so patient and caring and understanding. We became really good friends before we even started dating. I’ve never had a relationship like this before, he’s really great.” She sighs as she grins at her knee, taking a moment to think about how lucky she is. Then, because the alcohol has made her a little bolder and because she’s curious in a way she hadn’t really let herself be before, she turns toward him and says, “What about you?”
Adam glances at her. “What about me?”
“You got anybody?”
That gets a small smile out of him, enough to deepen his dimple. “Nah.”
Jenna lifts a brow. “Really? That’s surprising.”
His smile shifts into something more crooked. “What, because I’m so handsome?”
She studies his black hair that's a little tousled from the night, falling in uneven, wavy strands over his forehead. His eyes, bright and cutting even this late that look bluer under the dim lights than they had in the dark outside. The scars crossing one side of his face that don’t make him any less striking; if anything, they only sharpen his features. And then there are his dimples, which feel wildly unfair on a man as charming as him. He really is genuinely handsome, she decides. She noticed it before, but didn’t really think of it in the shock of his return, and by the way she still thinks of him as a little brother.
Jenna shrugs. She knows he means it as a joke, or maybe a jab at what he thinks about himself, but she says honestly, “I mean… yeah, you are.”
Adam looks a bit shocked at that, clearly not expecting an answer like that, or even one that sounded honest.
“And heroic too,” she adds, lifting her now near-empty glass slightly. “Saving people and all that. You’re quite a catch.”
He leans back a little at that, the compliment hitting somewhere he wasn’t fully braced for. “Whoa,” he says. “Careful there. I wouldn’t wanna make Steve jealous.”
Jenna rolls her eyes and nudges him with her elbow. “Adam, I swear—”
He laughs warmly. “Nah,” he says after a moment, a little quieter now. “I don’t really have time for romance.”
Something in the way he says it makes the line feel truer than casual, but the way he said it made it clear that she shouldn’t push the subject. Still, she nods; it reminds her of how she felt years ago. She thinks, maybe someday soon he will realize that he can make it work, just like she did.
Adam turns his glass in his hands and asks, “Why Jenna?”
She tilts her head.
“You could’ve picked any name.”
She watches the liquor move in his glass. She’s more than enough drinks in that the edges of her memory are easier to approach without cutting herself open on them. “It was one of the first names I heard after ORCHID fell,” she says at last. “Someone was shouting for someone else, I think. Or maybe calling across a hall. I don’t even know who they were.” She smiles faintly. “I just remember hearing it and liking it.”
Adam is quiet.
“It sounded…” She tries to find the word. “Soft? Like the kind of name a normal, nice human being would have. Like someone I’d wanna be someday. So I stole it.”
He nods approvingly.
Jenna lifts her head a little. “My turn. Why Adam?”
“Kumari chose it for me.”
That makes her smile. “Really?”
He nods. “Thought it was ironic. Because I’m not fully a man, which is it’s meaning.” He jabs his thumb vaguely toward his back. “Part bird and all that.”
A laugh slips out of her before she can stop it. Adam grins, pleased with himself, then lets the moment settle before asking the next question. “My turn. Why the foster care cover story?”
Jenna’s smile fades and she shifts her glass between her hands, looking down at it. “It’s what worked at the time,” she says. “Tony came up with it, and it fit and made sense and was easy for the public to accept.”
Adam nods. “Hill grew up in foster care. I’ve heard enough from him to know how horrible and corrupt that system can be, especially for Indigenous kids like him. No one looks out for them or cares for them the way they should, and too many people take kids in for the wrong reasons. Thats why we have so many at our safe houses.” His mouth tightens faintly. “The system has failed too many people to count.”
Jenna nods too, but her gaze stays lowered, fixed on her lap now instead of her drink. “At the time,” she says, quieter than before, “I was so preoccupied with everything else that was going on that I didn’t pay the story much attention. But…” She exhales through her nose. “I admit it feels kinda wrong talking about it now. I mean, it feels weird,” she goes on, “having more people find out my real story while everyone else still has this fake version of me in their minds. It’s kind of something I struggle with sometimes.” She throws a fake smile out. “Just to add to the pile of things that haunt me.”
Adam turns his glass in his hands now. “It did make sense,” he says. “It does. I get why he did it.” He glances at her. “You’re an orphan. Or you were. You were raised by an organization you didn’t choose to be raised by, then later you were adopted. If you think about it, it seems more like a half-truth. The system failed us too, you know.”
Jenna looks up.
“And,” he adds, a little drier now, “yeah, maybe I’ve gone down a rabbit hole once or twice looking at the organizations you’ve built or funded or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I’ve seen how much money you’ve poured into foster care organizations. I’ve seen proof of the work you’ve done helping people.” His shoulders lift slightly. “Maybe it’s not your real story. But what you’re doing with it means more, I think.”
Jenna swallows and looks away again. She finally notices that they’re the only ones in the room, and that the sun is starting to rise.
Adam studies the look on her face and the patterns in which her eyes move; he sees now that she’s never stopped the habit of overthinking things. “Jenna,” he says. She glances at him and sees that his eyes have grown softer and his face more serious.
“You’ve gotta promise me you’ll work on this,” he says.
Her brows knit. “Work on what?”
“All of it.” He gestures vaguely with the hand holding his glass, then sets it down. “The guilt. How you’re carrying everything you’ve gone through like it’s your fault.”
Jenna’s expression turns instinctively defensive, but Adam doesn’t let her duck away from it. “None of that was your fault,” he says. “I know you probably remember yourself as some cold, ruthless killer because it makes everything easier to survive in your head or some bullshit like that,” he says, “but no one else remembers you that way. No one, I guarantee it. You were always the kindest one there,” he says. “The strongest. The most caring person in that whole place. You took care of us.”
Adam leans back a little, but his eyes never leave her face. “Casualties like that are inevitable in situations like ours,” he says more quietly. “And you had to do what you could to cope, survive it, and take the organization down.” He exhales. “There were a lot of deaths, but there are also a lot of horrible people behind bars and a lot of safe kids who can have normal lives because of you.”
He gestures loosely around them, like all of this counts too. “Look at everything you’ve done and helped others do with your endless compassion,” he says. “You’re way too hard on yourself. Anyone ever tell you that?”
Jenna nods, and only then seems to realize her vision has gone watery.
“You were right,” he says. “When you said you weren’t like me.”
Her throat tightens.
“You were right when you said you were different,” he goes on. “That you’re better than what ORCHID made you believe you were.”
Her tears start sliding down her face.
Adam’s expression softens then in a way she hasn’t seen from him all night. “Be proud,” he says quietly. “Own who you are.”
Jenna lets out one small, wrecked breath and ducks her head, and by the time she wipes at her face she’s crying in earnest and far too tired to be embarrassed by it properly.
Adam watches her for a second with a fond exasperation. “Alright, drunky. Come here.” He sets his glass down and pulls her into a hug.
Jenna goes easily and gratefully, folding into him with a shaky laugh caught in the middle of her tears. His arms wrap around her tightly and she lets herself be held. He rests his chin lightly against the top of her head.
Eventually Adam leans back just enough to look at her. Her eyes are glassy and tired and she looks like she could fall asleep sitting upright.
His mouth curves faintly. “Alright,” he says.
Jenna looks at him. “Hm?”
He stands, then offers her a hand. “Let’s get you home.”
She stares at his hand, processing it, then gives a sleepy little nod and takes it. Adam pulls her to her feet carefully, steadying her when she sways.