Chapter Text
Deep in the cold forests of Alaska, a safehouse sits in a small clearing. Sunlight from the emerging daybreak is barely felt against the howling winds. Inside is one large room bordered by metal walls and empty rusted freight cars piled atop each other in corners. By one of the piles, an unconscious Sharon lies on a rickety bed. A small fire burns in an old brick furnace, protecting her from the cold outside.
Groggily, Sharon opens her eyes. Her left hand feels numb. As she glances over to it, she half-expects it to be simply gone. Instead, her hand is wrapped in a layer of bandages, the slightest stain of blood visible. Her head is throbbing and ringing relentlessly.
A dark figure to her left previously unnoticed jolts her fully awake. There, on a rusted metal chair, Bucky sat like a ghost — completely motionless, eyes watching like a hawk. Years of Winter Soldier brainwashing failed to hide the exhaustion under his eyes, however. “You’re awake.” He stated matter-of-factly. He leaned forward as if to analyze her. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? Like shit.”
Somewhat of a smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, I figured.” He reached to the ground to pick up a bottle of water and handed it to her. “Drink.”
Sharon didn’t realise how dry her throat was until the first drop of water touched her lips. Soon enough, she was gulping down the last of the water, draining the bottle empty.
“Better now?” Bucky asked, his eyes never leaving her.
Sharon nodded. “Thanks.” She looked around the room once more. “Where are we?”
“Alaska. One of the last of SHIELD’s safe houses. Hill brought us here in a jet. She’s out to brief Fury. They’ll be back any moment.”
“How long was I out?”
“2 days.”
“2 days?” Sharon repeated in surprise.
Bucky shrugged. “You were bleeding out of a hole in your palm, 13. You’re lucky SHIELD’s med team patched you up quick. Or you’d probably only have one arm right now.”
“Well you look like you’re living on pretty nicely yourself.”
Bucky let out a chuckle. “I’m not exactly planning on recruiting others.”
Just then, the door swung open and Sam walked in, shed off the Captain America suit, shield and falcon wings. In place, he donned on a simple green shirt — though it was probably the one he wore under the suit. Behind him, Peggy followed after — concern etched all over her face. That concern quickly melted into relief as her eyes landed on a very much awake niece.
Sharon was immediately engulfed in an embrace around Peggy’s arms. “I’m fine, Aunt Peggy- I promise-” She assured her through short gasps from the confines of the suffocating hug.
Sharon saw out of the corner of her eye Peggy’s mouth moving but she couldn’t make it out clearly. “What did you say?”
Sharon turned to look at Peggy directly. She saw her mouth move once again but nothing reached her ears. It occurred to her that everything around her was moving slowly. She turned to look at Bucky and Sam but found them to be blurry figures. The only one she could see clearly was her aunt who she couldn’t hear despite her best efforts. Her heart started to hammer in her chest. Something was clearly very wrong.
The hair on her right arm stood up as if there was a cold presence touching her there. A voice dripped in her right ear, cold and demanding. Loud and deep. “Complete the mission, Agent 13.”
Her entire body locked into place. Eyes blown wide, seeing nothing in front of her. Against her will, her body jerked forward violently.
Darkness.
Her arms outstretched.
Pitch black.
Yelling. Cold on the tip of her fingers. Why?
Empty.
Cold concrete floor. That’s why. Skin pressed against skin. Nails digging into flesh. Who?
Nothing.
“Get her off of her!” Was that Sam? What’s he talking about? Why’s everyone yelling? What’s that under her hands? It feels like flesh and skin and bones. Blood flowing underneath.
Everything all at once.
Metal on her shoulder. Her back slammed roughly against a brick wall. The click of a gun cocking. Coughing and choking somewhere. More yelling. Someone’s saying her name. What was it again?
“Sharon!” Oh, right. “Shit. Sharon, can you hear me?” Was that Bucky? He’s aiming a gun at her. Somehow that didn’t faze her a bit.
“Director, are you alright?” Sam. Coughing has turned into ragged gasps. Wait. Director?
Fuck.
She fucked up bad.
Through blurry eyes, she saw her aunt on her knees, struggling to stand up. She was frantically rubbing her hand against her neck. Red hand prints. Sharon’s. Sam was doing his best to help Peggy back to breathing normally. She fucked up really bad.
Not again.
She saw it coming before it hit her. Pain. Blinding, excruciating pain. Ringing in her ears.
Her head throbbed, like it was about to burst. She wished that would happen.
More pain. Muscles seizing. Body and limbs moving against her will. She has no control.
More yelling. Why? Bucky’s not speaking anymore. At least from his unmoving lips — Sharon can’t really hear anything above the ringing. She knows he’s analyzing her. Trying to assess the situation. Sam’s too far away with Peggy to be loud in her perspective. Then who?
Finish the mission, Agent 13.
Please no. Not again.
Remember your training, Agent 13.
Don’t make me do it. Stop.
This is what you’re made for, Agent 13.
No. I can’t.
You are a weapon, Agent 13. You don’t get to choose.
Please stop.
Your mission is right there. Kill her. Eliminate. Destroy. That is your mission, Agent 13. This is what you’ve been trained for. What I’ve trained you for. Finish the mission.
“Get out of my head!” Skin pressed against skin. “Stop talking!” Her own skin.
Nails scratching and clawing at skin. Hurts. Good. “Make it stop!” Wet trickling down her fingers. Blood.
Hands gripped around her wrists. Bucky. Gun in his holster. He’s saying something. “Sharon, talk to me! Who’s talking to you? What’s going on?”
Footsteps approaching. Sam. Aunt Peggy. Not her.
“Don’t make me do it, please.” Begging. How pathetic of her. She looked at Bucky. Anywhere but Peggy.
Something clicked in him. He spoke to Sam without ever taking his eyes off of her. “Sam, 13’s still activated in her.”
“What? How the hell is that possible? Val isn’t here.” It’s so fucking loud here.
“Exactly. No one ever deactivated her since the warehouse.”
“So she’s-”
A nod. Everything hurts so bad.
“Director, you need to get to another room now. For your safety.” Thank you, Sam.
Peggy wanted to stay. Her niece curled up in a corner, nails caked with her own blood, afraid of herself. She looked so small. No aunt in the world wants to see that sight in any lifetime. But the SHIELD director in her knew better. Wiser. So with one last glance, she let Sam escort her out.
Another wave of pain. When does it end? Does it ever end?
You let her escape. Agent 13, my best weapon, failing a mission. Useless.
“I’m sorry.” Why was Bucky apologizing? When did her nails find their way back into her skin? Was the sound of her crying? It sounded so foreign.
A thud. A sharp pain on the back of her head. Out like a light.