We Got Love
Safely aboard the private jet, Bucky joins Clint in the cockpit as the Red Room refugees cluster in the main cabin. It’s a measure of trust that he leaves Darcy’s side at all, but days spent surveilling Katya has paved the way for a tentative friendship of sorts between the two snipers.
Natalia takes charge of Katya’s hair, dying and styling it into messy waves, not unlike Darcy’s own. As she does, Katya recounts the events that brought her to their hotel.
She is working late, trying to finish a submission to Immigration New Zealand. Their client will be deported in two weeks unless she can get the Minister to grant a visa under section 61. She’s been jumpy ever since Darya’s reappearance, shunning her office at night for one of the workstations in the middle of the office, where a lighted office will not present her as an easy target to anyone outside. Emailing the letter at last, she hears footsteps - odd, as the cleaners have come and gone, tutting at her workaholic habits. Even the law clerks have left, home to study for their upcoming exam or perhaps to hit the town.
A woman steps into the room, skinny and blonde with dark circles underneath her eyes. “Katya? Is that you?”
She stills, pushing herself away from the desk and standing, Darya’s warning ringing in her mind. “Anya, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to bring you home.”
“I’ve made a new home; we didn’t like our old one, remember? That’s why we left.”
“You have to come home,” Anya insists, and there’s something eerie about the way she repeats herself.
“I have a life here, I can’t leave.”
More footsteps, as men in black uniforms emerge from the darkness from behind her sister. “Set the charges,” one says. “The gas line is behind this wall.”
“What are you doing?” Katya demands.
“Some things have to be destroyed to be made stronger,” Anya says. “Destroy this old life and come home.”
The first man to approach her with cuffs dies as a hairpin slashes across throat; the next, his larynx crushed from a well-aimed kick. They fall back. “Neutralise her,” orders their leader, and Anya stalks forward.
It was a poor choice of ambush location. Katya has worked in this office for months, long enough to memorise the distance between desks and where the accountant keeps her stapler. She sends one office chair rolling into Anya’s path, uses the window it creates to use a decorative thermometer as a club on a nearby goon. Papers fly as she tackles Anya into a cabinet, which tips, trapping another of the watching men. Anya’s knee hits her in the face as she reaches for the stapler. Fighting through the burst of pain, she smashes it into Anya’s temple, but not hard enough to knock her out, unwilling to fight her sister with lethal force. Anya seems to have no such compulsion and she soon finds herself in a headlock, a faceless goon stepping forward with an ominous syringe.
“The charges are set,” another man reports, brandishing a detonator, and Katya drops to one knee and twists, sending Anya over her head and hearing her own arm snap in the process. Grabbing the detonator and ignoring the pain in her arm, she hurtles away from the conventional exit into her office. She’s loosened the window appropriately; now, she smashes through it and onto the building next door in a shower of glass.
Shaking shards out of her hair, she is hit from the side and falls heavily, onto the detonator, hot pokers of pain stabbing up her bad arm. Her office explodes in a rush of heat and sound, providing enough of a distraction to elbow Anya in the throat and wiggle free. From there, she takes the second of five preplanned escape routes down to street level. Briefly, she considers returning to her apartment, but it is sure to be under surveillance and she has no desire to put her flatmates into the line of fire. She is woefully unprepared to fight and cannot flee: the isolation that made New Zealand so successful a hiding place now works against her. There’s no easy way to leave the country — Darya’s offer may be her only hope. She hopes her sister is still there.
“We were about to leave,” Darcy tells her, inspecting her newest passport and declaring it sufficient. “Nice to meet you, Ms Hunter.”
Katya closes her eyes, lips moving soundlessly as she internalises her new name. They pop open and she stares at Darcy, narrow-eyed. “That’s what happened to me. What happened to Anya? And how did you join the Avengers?”
“We did not ‘join’ the Avengers,” Darcy says. “But as for the rest - well, it’s a long story.”
“It’s a long flight,” comments Natalia, wiping the excess dye off her hands. “It’s probably more interesting than whatever movie Clint decides to queue up.”
On arrival, Friday directs them to the conference room that Darcy is growing to hate. She zones out as Tony interrogates her sister, isn’t surprised when Katya is assigned to share their suite. Their lives fall into some sort of holding pattern, alternating between their rooms, the gym floor, and the common floor.
Steve arrives back at the Tower two days after they do. Taking Darcy’s advice, he gives Bucky space; only going to the common room when Friday informs him that they are in their own suite. Stepping out of the elevator, he stops short at the sight of Darcy chopping onions to some modern pop song piped through the speakers. Coming closer, he realises it’s not Darcy, though there are superficial similarities. If Friday is playing her music, though, she must be cleared to be here.
He is still cataloguing the differences - taller, slimmer - when her hands still and he realises she has noticed his presence. Spinning to face him, she watches with suspicion as he approaches. He holds his hands open, empty, as he calls Friday to turn the music down.
“You’re Captain America.”
Steve makes a face. “I prefer Steve, most of the time. Who are you?”
“My name is Katya,” she tells him. “I’m Dary- Darcy’s sister. Stark okayed my presence here.”
“I thought you were set on staying in New Zealand. What happened?”
She stiffens, fingers still curled around the knife in her hand. “Anya blew up my office.”
“So?”
“With my office, she also blew up any chance I had at a normal life. I am out of practice and was without resources. I know when to cut and run.” Each word is clipped, precise, flung from her mouth with distaste to land between them.
In the awkward silence, he casts about for a different topic of conversation. “What are you making?”
The eye roll she gives him further cements her identity. He’s seen it too many times from Darcy over the short time they’ve known each other. “Dinner,” she replies and turns back to her chopping board.
Flushing at the obvious dismissal, he grabs a protein shake from the fridge and retreats to his rooms.
Clint whistles tunelessly as he checks the fletching on his arrows. ”What do you think of the new kid?”
Tasha doesn’t look up from the game on her cell phone. “The one who is almost certainly a decade older than you?” She bats the cushion he throws at her aside, still focussed on her game.
“Tasha,” he whines, and she relents.
“Less than ideal common sense, given she ignored Lewis’s warning, but clever and stubborn enough to make it through law school. If she was telling the truth about what happened to her office, she is a skilled fighter.”
“And if she isn’t? Telling the truth, that is.”
“Then we’ve let a viper into our midst.”
“Says the Black Widow, ironically.”
The cushion makes a return journey with considerably more force.
Thor has once again gone back to Asgard and both Clint and Natasha have been assigned to some hush-hush mission overseas. The rogue Russian assassins are settling in nicely, though Steve is still using Friday to avoid them. Life at the Tower has quietened down, so Pepper enjoys the return to a more mundane schedule.
A light knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” Pepper calls, minimising the file in front of her.
The woman who steps inside is quite possibly the plainest person Pepper had ever seen. Mousy brown hair with a blunt fringe falls around a face that can only be described as unremarkable, crowned with large wire-rimmed glasses.
“Ms De Santos? Please take a seat.” Pepper steeples her fingers in front of her, unsure how to proceed. She decides to go with bluntness. “I have a bit of a problem, Ms De Santos. Your appointment only appeared in my calendar a few hours ago when I normally require two days’ notice. Furthermore, there are no records of a Julia De Santos that match your description, well, anywhere. Would you care to explain?”
Her visitor closes her eyes, exhales heavily. When she meets Pepper’s gaze, her face and voice are expressionless but heavily accented. “I wish to speak with the Black Widow. Failing that, Captain America will do.”
Pepper’s jaw snaps shut. “You would be Yulia, then?”
Slowly, the woman in front of her nods.
“That’s her, then? The one who killed my parents?”
Darcy looks at the holo-screen Tony has magnified and nods. Yulia sits cross-legged in the middle of the Hulk containment room. Her back is straight and her face blank, but the twitching of her fingers betrays her nervousness. “I want to talk to her.”
“Not going to happen, Sunshine,” Tony says, scowling, though his words lack force. “You’re not telling her how to escape from this one.”
“She gave herself up,” Steve argues. “We had no leads on her position; she walked in here and gave herself up. It must be a trap.”
“We could talk to her,” Katya offers. “We could tell something was wrong with Anya when we spoke to her; surely Yulia would be the same.”
Steve nods, turns to Tony. “Is there an intercom system?”
“Only from outside the module. Less chance of Bruce breaking anything important.”
When they all rise to their feet, Steve looks around. “I’m the one who talks to her, understand? The rest of you are too emotionally invested, and if she’s been ordered to kill you, speaking to her may set her off.” He holds their gazes until each one nods in agreement.
The trip down to Floor 75 is made in silence, though Darcy’s hand finds its way into Bucky’s. She stands shoulder to shoulder with Katya, looking into the module through the one-way glass. Tony is practically vibrating with impatience but he stands away from the control panel. Steve steps forward and presses the button Tony indicates.
“Yulia, this is Steve Rogers speaking.”
Yulia’s fingers still, then start up again. “Captain America, right? Took you long enough. I suppose patriotism doesn’t have to be punctual.” She sounds almost bored.
Confused, Steve turns to Darcy and Katya. “She doesn’t sound brainwashed. Why would she give herself up?”
“Have you tried asking her?”
Before he can, Yulia speaks up again. “What are you waiting for? Get on with it.”
“Get on with what?”
“Killing me.”
The observers exchange shocked glances. Finally, Steve reaches out to the intercom again. “Wh-why would we kill you?”
“Six months ago, Anna Matthews dies in a house fire that also claims the lives of her three housemates. Local police suspect the fire was set but have no suspects. Last month, Darcy Lewis disappears — her neighbours filed a report but I suppose that was easy enough to cover up, working for Stark as she did. Two weeks ago, Tony Stark is inexplicably seen wandering the streets of Wellington. Five days after that, there is an explosion that claims the life of Kate -”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Steve asks, cutting her off.
“Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action,” she recites.
“That may be,” Steve agrees. “But we’re not the enemy.”
Her soft snort is loud in the silence that follows.
“Her reasoning is understandable, though her conclusion is erroneous,” Katya murmurs. “Still, her actions are inexplicable, unless…”
Darcy thinks through the facts Yulia presented, comes to the only sensible answer. “She’s protecting someone.” Katya nods in agreement.
“Who are you protecting?” Steve asks.
Yulia’s face tightens, some emotion flicking across it too quickly to catch. “No-one.”
“Lie,” Darcy and Katya chorus under their breath.
“It won’t be too hard to track them down,” Steve threatens, though in truth he has no idea if Stark has that capability. “After all, we found your sisters.”
Yulia’s face twists and she draws in a shaky breath, eyes filled with pain. “And yet you claim to not be the enemy. I suppose your heroism only applies for Americans. Perhaps the Trainers were right after all.”
Katya shoots Steve a venomous glare, leaves Darcy’s side to push past him to the control panel. “Don’t listen to him, Yulechka. We’re not dead and he can take very little of the credit.” What little colour there is drains from Yulia’s face and Katya starts jabbing at the control panel in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Steve demands, dragging her away.
“Letting her out,” she snarls, struggling against his grip on her good arm. “You can see she’s not brainwashed, so let her out!”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Tony says. “But you can join her in there if you want.”
Darcy elbows Bucky in the side. “Remember what I said about giving myself up?” For a moment, he stares at her blankly, then nods as the memory slots into place.
“Let us in,” she says simply.
Tony stares at her, then at Katya, who kicks backwards and upwards. Steve makes a soft oof and folds in half, and she shakes her arm free of his grasp. “Your call,” he shrugs, pushing a few buttons. The door slides open and they step inside.
For a moment, Yulia stares at them in silence and Darcy is worried they made the wrong choice, but it’s like a dam breaking and suddenly they are hugging and crying and laughing. Yulia pulls away, looks between them. “Where’s Anya?” she asks, and the bubble bursts.
“About that…” Darcy says. “We need to talk.”
”I woulda thought you’d be in there, watching your girl’s back.”
Bucky shrugs, eyes never leaving the three women as they talk. “There is one entrance to that room and I am guarding it. Inside, I am as trapped as she is. Outside, I have access to the control panel and know how to unlock the room should they require an exit.”
“You’ll have to go through me,” Tony snaps, spinning to face him. Bucky looks down at him, expression neutral. Abruptly, Tony realises he is without his suit. He doesn’t quite deflate, but a little of the bravado evaporates.
“Buck won’t do that,” Steve says, and both men turn to stare at him in disbelief.
“Russian assassin,” Tony says, jabbing a finger at him. “Soulmate of one of the assassins who killed my parents.”
“I’m not the man you think I am,” Bucky adds, after a pause long enough that he is certainly not agreeing with Tony.
“Yes, you are,” Steve protests. “You just need to remember him.”
“What if I can’t?” Bucky asks, bluntly. “What if they burnt him out of me and all that is left is his face?”
Steve swallows. Hard. “I know that’s not true. I know you remember me, even if you won’t admit it.
“I don’t know what I remember,” Bucky allows.
“That’s okay. I can wait.” Steve sets his jaw in a way that the old Bucky would recognise - and perhaps the new one does too. He shrugs again, and there is silence but for the women’s conversation being piped over the intercom.
Yulia stares at her sisters in disbelief. “Brainwashing. Explosions. The Avengers. What happened to keeping a low profile?”
“You think that’s bad?” Katya says. “Guess who Darya’s soulmate is?”
Yulia groans. “Please, not Captain Tightpants.”
“Better,” Katya grins. “Zimniy Soldat.”
Yulia laughs. “Nice try, Katyusha. But I can tell when you’re —” she trails off. “You’re not lying.” Her gaze turns to Darcy. “Dashenka, you were supposed to be the sensible one!”
“I’m sorry?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I’m really not.”
Yulia studies them carefully, gaze sharpening on the wrapping on Katya’s wrist. ”And you are free to leave at any time? Even though they know who we are?”
“Well, sort of. We don’t have anywhere to go and they’re helping us track Anya down. I don’t think I’ve left the Tower recently, but I’m 83% certain they’d let us out if I wanted.”
“I go on runs outside all the time,” Katya says. “Stop looking like that, Dashenka, I don’t need two arms to kill a mugger.”
“So if I wanted to, I could get up and leave? Then why are they keeping me in here?”
“Well, there’s the Anya thing. We didn’t know if you were brainwashed too, and this is an office building with some apartments on top. They don’t have any holding cells or anything.”
“What aren’t you saying?” Yulia demands, looking between them.
Darcy shifts uncomfortably. “There was a mission you did. December 16, 1991.”
Yulia purses her lips in thought. “Assassination and asset retrieval, wasn’t it? Just before that round of procedures?”
“Do you remember the target?”
“Howard and Maria —” Her eyes pop open and she looks around. “Oh.”
“Tony Stark is a little upset.”
“I- uh- that’s understandable. I’m not proud of what I did. Well, I am a little bit. It went like clockwork and it wasn’t an easy shot.”
“Do you even care?” Tony demands over the intercom. “They were my parents!”
Yulia doesn’t flinch. “It was them or us, Stark. The Red Room does not tolerate failure. I’m sorry for what I did, but I would make the same choice today as I did then. I don’t expect you to understand.” A resigned smile slips across her face and she sits down again. “I guess I’m not going home again after all.”
The door slides open. Tony stands in the doorway, looking far older than Darcy has ever seen him. “Get out,” he says softly, not looking at any of them.
Yulia stands, walks over to him, sisters at her back. “Stark…”
“Just go.”
Darcy and Katya follow her to the elevator. Darcy digs around in her pocket, finds the marker she kept on hand for when Jane had another stroke of genius. Grabbing Yulia’s arm, she scrawls her cell phone number down her forearm.
“Let me know you got home safe,” she murmurs. “I promise it won’t be traced.”
Yulia looks at her, nods. Darcy knows she will message her from a burner phone anyway.
The elevator whisks Yulia away and returns to take them to the common floor. Friday provides the security footage of Yulia exiting the lobby; Darcy and Katya watch in silence as she vanishes into the crowd.
The screen fades to black and Darcy looks around. There’s something indefinably different in the air — some agreement Bucky and Steve have come to when she wasn’t looking, some conclusion Tony has come to as they talked in Bruce’s cell.
“What happens now?” she asks, but no-one has an answer.