Chapter Text
You are barely a block from your apartment building when the attack begins. What would’ve been a normal midday excursion on your day-off turns into a hectic mess of retreating in a swarm of people. It takes you a minute to register what is even happening as crowds begin to run and people scream and shout. Then you see the creatures flying over the city, some leap from their crafts into the crowds, eliciting the screams. You press on with the herd, offering a hand to those who fall behind or trip over each other.
“The police are directing the evacuation! They’re stationed a few blocks down!” Word spreads to the crowd giving everyone a sense of direction that does only so much to settle the chaos of them escaping the situation.
You notice a couple trapped in their car, the flood of people blocking their way out. You rush to them, making a subtle part in the flow to open the passenger side door. The young man that stepped out thanks you hurriedly, and both of you rush to the other side to help the driver. You barely give them a chance to finish thanking you, urging them to follow the evacuators.
A collective exclamation toward the back of the crowd draws your attention. One of the flying crafts has smashed into the street, sending a creature tumbling forward. You watch as it picks itself up and turns on a small group that slowly backs themselves against a building. Your feet move before you know what you're doing. You pick up a small chunk of the broken street and chuck it at the back of the creature. It's a weak throw, but it hits its target.
“Hey!” You shout for good measure. The creature stalls, looking over at you. It isn’t armed like the other creatures flying around. It must have lost its weapon during its fall. You pick up another piece of the street and start circling around so you're away from the fleeing crowd. You jerk your head at the cowering group to signal them to run. They don’t need much prompting and take off as the creature begins to turn its full attention on you.
“Yeah! That’s right! Look at me!” You continue to shout, walking backwards from the evacuators. You murmur, “Ugly bitch.”
As if it heard you, it leaps. The pavement in your hand flies forward in a hasty fling, and your feet stumble to turn you around and begin running off down the street. Your panicked panting pumps in your ears as you navigate around abandoned vehicles and debris.
A searing pain strikes through you, burning in between your shoulder blades and past your chest. You stagger forward onto your knees, taking in the gaping hole in your chest. Your cheek hits the pavement harder than you'd like. The world goes dark.
Then everything comes back with a violent crash. You pull yourself up groggily, body fully restored now. A flying craft has gone spinning into a building above you sending glass and concrete to sprinkle onto the street. You see your alien murderer ahead, now armed with some kind of laser gun, climbing onto another flying craft with its buddy. You puff out a sigh, feeling residual burning in your chest. You glance back to find the crowd has pretty much gone, the line of cop cars more apparent. You make the mistake of looking at the aliens again.
Your alien murderer has noticed you. It converses with the pilot of the flying craft, who looks over its shoulder to see you. The craft is turned around and a jolt shoots through your heart jumpstarting your feet to move. You run maybe a block and a half before deciding to throw yourself into a cafe to get out of their line of sight. You slam the door closed and throw yourself over the counter to hide. You think you wait a whole minute, gathering your breath and anticipating another attack. You slowly peek over the counter to peer out the store window. Crafts and creatures fly by, but none bother an assault on the cafe.
Another sigh of relief.
“Hello?”
You slam your shoulder against the counter in shock as you turn to the woman looking at you from the kitchen door.
“Hi.” You reply, picking yourself up. The woman takes in your disheveled appearance, glancing down at the hole in the front of your shirt that reveals the bare skin of your collar. You place a hand over it as if to cover yourself.
“They’re, uh, evacuating the city, I think.” You think? “You shouldn’t stay here.” You add, throwing another look at the disaster outside the windows. The woman follows your gaze.
“I know. But I just don’t know how we can get out safely.”
Before you can ask, a child appears at the woman’s knee. They look at you with wide eyes, both scared and curious. Your head is bobbing up and down, but you don’t even know what you're agreeing to. You hold your hands up as you approach to join them in the kitchen. That’s where you see the stroller with the equally confused babe. You inhale deeply.
“Okay. Okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.” You look around the kitchen and find a spray bottle of oil. Perfect.
“How? There are so many of them! Where are we supposed to even go?” The woman worries as you set the bottle down again.
“There’s a bunch of cops, maybe two blocks down. They’ll help us evacuate. We just need to get there. Can you pick up the baby real quick?”
The woman looks at you for a moment, but complies. You crouch down to smile at the older kid.
“Hey, bud. I’m here to help. I’m gonna pick you up, okay? It’ll be easier if you ride in the stroller, is that okay?”
The child nods, calmer than you would’ve been in their position. You lift them and help them into the stroller which they are only just too big for.
“Good. Okay,” you look at the woman. “Give them the baby to hold. You’ll move better.”
The woman nods, leaning to her child in the stroller. “You have an important job. You’re gonna hold Lewis.” She begins settling the baby into the child’s lap. “Wrap your arms around him. Good. Hold tight and keep him safe. Can you do that, sweetheart?”
The child hugs their brother and nods dutifully.
“Great.” You pick up the oil bottle again. “We’ll exit out into the alley. When we hit the street, I want you to move as fast as you can toward the police cars down the way. Don’t look back, don’t worry about being attacked. I’ll cover you.” You lead them to the alley exit.
“What about you? Will you make it? What if they get you?” The woman pushes the stroller into the alley and you follow behind.
“They won’t. I’ll be fine. Everything will be okay.” You try to assure, but you don’t know if you're using the right words. You peek out from the alley to check out the path to the cops.
The aliens are more concentrated closer into the city, leaving a pretty clear path.
“Okay, let’s go.” You wave her to start moving.
Tense with anxiety, the woman steers her children around the corner and down the street. You tail them, and together you weave the streets to avoid the remnants of destruction. Your party makes it the first block when you hear it.
A flying craft angling down upon you.
“Move fast! Keep going!” You shout to her, then turn. You throw yourself between the family and a laser shot, getting struck in the hip with another searing pain. You have your lighter in hand and flick it open and on, sending a blast of flame in the alien’s direction with a spray of oil. It’s not very damaging to anything but your own fingers, but it does make the alien reel back a little in its aircraft.
For the second time, you are moving away from where you should be fleeing to, hoping to direct the alien’s attention away from the family. You continue to blast puffs of flame to annoy it into following you. It turns its head to follow your progress around, but you know it’s not working before it even begins to turn back to the mother and her kids.
“Hey!” You yell at it, throwing the oil bottle in a last ditch effort. The bottle hits its shoulder. The alien snarls and turns its weapon on you.
Before you can feel the heat of another shot though, a spinning disk comes flying into view, slicing right through the alien’s outstretched arm. The alien’s anguish is cut short as the disc comes spinning back, the craft lurching forward to crash into the street. You stare at it, heart beating loud and alive in your chest.
A touch to your shoulder has you snapping back, arms up defensively.
“Sorry, ma’am. Are y…”
Your wide eyes are reflected in the masked face of the nation’s most iconic superhero. His suit is dirty from battle making him look like he appeared straight from the old war movies. His face has frozen as he's saying something, but an expression of confusion is washing over. A singular word escapes his lips so softly that you could have imagined it. You must have. Because you thought it sounded like your own name.
“What?” You prompt, louder than you intended. Maybe your hearing is being affected by all the explosions and crashes happening around.
The Captain blinks and clears his throat. “Are you alright, ma’am?”
His eyes fall to the various burnt holes in your clothing. You nod.
“Dandy. Thank you.”
He gives one strong nod, glancing to the sky before setting his gaze back on you. “You should clear out. The officers down there can help you get to safety.”
You nod. “Right, of course. Thank you.”
He doesn’t move for a second, still looking you over as if the most bizarre part of this whole ordeal is your presence on this street.
“Kick their asses, Captain.” You give him a departing nod and smile, starting toward the line of cops. He smiles back, giving you a salute.
“Yes, ma’am.” And then he's off, sprinting toward the main commotions, covering ground at an impressive rate. You don’t bother running to safety, too mentally exhausted to be in a fleeing mindset, leave alone physically.
The officer who receives you immediately directs you to an ambulance where EMTs look you over diligently. You deflect naturally as confusion over your truly undamaged condition arises. It takes some convincing to get them to believe that you're just incredibly lucky and you definitely need to go home and rest. Unfortunately, once they let you go, there isn’t actually home for you to go to.
So you settle for a hotel. You buy a change of clothes in the hotel's store, picking up a refrigerated sandwich and bottle of water to temporarily satiate the hunger creeping into your stomach. In the bathroom of your room, you take a moment to appreciate the look of disrepair that greets you in your reflection. Hair matted with sweat and blown with activity. Dirt and soot coating your skin and clothes. The burnt holes in your clothes exposing unharmed skin. Even though you feel you can probably run miles around the city, exhaustion etches every line of your face.
A nice long hot shower and fresh change of clothes later, you finally pull out your phone from your tarnished pants. You have half a dozen missed calls from the same number. You take a deep breath and call back.
“Location.” A stern voice breaks through the phone.
“Saints Hotel. It’s-”
“Got it. Stay put.”
You frown. “Are you in New York right now?”
“Yes. Stay put.” The phone hangs up.
Half an hour of staying put and a message pings your phone.
Parking lot. Quickly.
You waste no time, checking out and approaching the familiar jet black vehicle in the front parking lot.
Dr. David Ankrov watches you approach from the driver’s side, nodding to you over the roof of the car. You open your mouth to greet him.
“Sh. In the car. We talk in the car.”
The two of you enter the vehicle, but there is a moment of silence before either of you talk. You look at him with a slight tilt of your head. His silvering hair is pressed back as if he’s been running his hands repeatedly through it. His frown draws out all the creases of his face downward and the shadows around his eyes are heavily apparent even under his thick framed glasses. His soft suit has a looseness drawing attention to the weight he must have lost since the last time you saw him.
“You were in the city when it happened?” It isn't a question. His eyes surveys the darkening parking lot, trying to be casual but coming off paranoid.
“I was. I… I got shot. Twice. I was only out once though. I don’t think anyone saw.”
One of his eyes twitch. “Fine. I’ll double check. I’m guessing you didn’t avoid cameras.”
Your heart drops. “I didn’t… I forgot, sorry.”
He shakes his head. He looks at you, mouth pressed into a line and eyes soft with forgiveness. “It’s fine. That’s what I do, right?”
You try to coax a smile from him with a lift of your own lips.
“No one saw you heal, or no one saw you there?”
Your eyes drop to the dashboard. “I helped a couple people but I don’t think they would remember. There was this lady with a couple of kids, but with the stress and adrenaline she probably couldn’t pick me out from a lineup.”
David nods along. “Is that all?”
Are you alright, ma’am?
“Uh,” you swallows. “There was… I mean, it was super brief, but he did see my face.”
David furrows his brows. “Who? What did he look like?”
“It was the Captain.”
David stares at you for a moment. “The Captain?”
You nod.
“As in Captain fucking America?”
You nod again. David sucks in a breath, nodding to the parking lot.
“Okay. Okay, fine. I’m sure it’s fine. He meets hundreds of people all the time. You say he didn’t see you heal? That’s good.” When David turns back to you, he catches the subtle change in your eyes. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. You’re right. It’s good.”
David speaks your name like a warning.
“It’s nothing! It… he got a good look. I don’t know how good his memory is, I’m just saying.”
David breathes in, nodding so much his head might snap off. “Fine. I’ll check it. Let’s go.”
“Where-”
“Home. This incident has made it clear you need a tighter leash.” He starts the car and pulls out of the lot without another word. You want to protest, to defend yourself, but it's clear you’ve pushed his generosity to an edge.