DEMONS.
( chapter twenty. )

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Edited 12/26/2015 @1:37 AM
Edited 07/16/2016 @12:06 PM
Edited 11/29/2017 @2:19 AM

  ANDREA COULDN'T TAKE HER eyes off the plume of black smoke; a response to the explosion and the very place where Bucky should have been. Pain tore through her chest as she fell to her knees, too shocked to stop the fall. He was there— he was right there and she'd let him fade and disappear like the ghost she had believed him to be.

  It wasn't long before they were surrounded by HYDRA agents disguised as S.H.I.E.L.D. Andy could do absolutely nothing as someone came to cuff her. Everything was a blur. Her mind too preoccupied with memories of Bucky. His life— his death— and the organization that had taken him from her.

The pain was getting worse. It was the only thing that kept her aware; the feeling of blood pooling down from her arm, her vision coming in-and-out of focus.

Soon, the four of them were loaded into the back of a van. If HYDRA had been smarter, the group would've been separated. Andy figured it was a way of showing they no longer saw them as a threat. At least, not with the strongest of them so emotionally incapacitated.

Andrea sat down. She wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to drift away and sleep until everything made sense again. But, a laugh pulled her back to the present. Brutal and rough. She was quick to recognize the sound. The mockery in it.

Andy gave a sparing glance in Rumlow's direction. The smirk on his face made rage pool in her gut. He was a living, breathing reminder of all her failures in stopping HYDRA and she wanted to throttle him for it. Sleep no longer mattered. She was going to cut the smirk right off of his face if she had to.

  Rumlow leaned in close (a true mistake on his behalf.) "How does it feel?" He asked her, "Knowing that your friend— your husband— has become the monster you never wanted to be."

Andy didn't give him the chance to guess her next move. She turned slow eyes to him and hoped that he could see the hatred there. He would know then that the next turn of events were his own fault.

  Swiftly, Andrea pulled her head back before slamming it forward. Her forehead connected with Rumlow's nose. Crack. Then, her knee connected with his crotch. An all-too-easy mark.

Before he could stumble back, she let her cuffed arms drop over his neck. Rumlow struggled, but she pulled him close. Forearms wrapped tight to keep him from jerking away.

Blood gushed between them, slipping down from Rumlow's face and Andrea's shoulder. She didn't care. Anger was such an easy distraction from the pain.

  "Call him a monster again," she said, shaking him violently. "And I'll show you a real one." Her grin was wicked when all he could do was sputter on his own blood.

She pulled back, lifting her arms to release him. Rumlow was quick to fall back, stumbling out of reach. A good idea, considering Andy was debating the amount of teeth her foot could knock loose.

  Rumlow was too busy choking on his blood to conjure a response, so Andrea continued. "You should consider yourself lucky. If I wasn't handcuffed right now, I would tear you limb-from-fucking-limb."

  Rumlow's gaze was furious as he struggled to stand. "I can't wait to get my hands on you," he spat, baring bloody teeth.

  Andy grinned at him, wild with rage. "I'd like to see you try."

Rumlow's only reply was the back doors slamming shut. Andrea felt her expression fall as silence enveloped the van. Her gaze fell to the floor. There was no reason to cling to the anger now, not while her vision began to spot.

The pain wasn't much of a concern. Neither was the ache in her bones, or the exhaustion in her shoulders. Wounds were such an easy sensation to get used to. An easy thing to ignore.

  All Andy could focus on was the growing headache as she picked at the strings that were her memories, desperate to untangle the thread. She wanted to know how she could have missed it— because how could she have missed it? This important detail behind both Bucky's disappearance and her own.

And how could she have been stupid enough to believe that her capture had just been a tragic coincidence? How could she have let herself be that naive? That ignorant?

Why didn't she try harder?

Andrea couldn't help but ask that question, over and over again. She had many failures to mourn, but this? This was more than that.

Knowing that Bucky was still alive and had suffered— was still suffering— the same torment she had? It was a different kind of pain. A different kind of torment.

She abandoned him.

  "It was Bucky." Andy could hardly find the strength to look at Steve as he spoke.

  "He was standing right there and he didn't even recognize us." The pain in Steve's soft-spoken words made her heart ache.

  Andy turned away. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't let her friends see the devastation inside of her. I have to be strong, she told herself, because strength is all we have left.

  The words did little to fix her crumbling composure, but in spite of it, Andy forced herself to repeat them. A constant mantra in her head. It was the only thing holding her together, even after all that they'd been through.

And she feared that if she stopped, even for a singular moment, she would collapse and that would be it.

  Andy inhaled sharply as the pain worsened. The healing was still pushing through, but it was slow-going and fading fast. She had spent too much energy. Andrea pressed more roughly against the wound and felt blood sticking to her fingers.

  "How is that even possible?" Sam asked, seeming unable to comprehend the possibility of Bucky's existence. "That was like 70 years ago."

Andy couldn't blame Sam for his confusion. Despite the fact that her and Steve were walking contradictions of 'possible', there wasn't much else to go on. No explanations, save for the ones her memories might provide.

  He had no idea what kind of things monsters were capable of when given power and cause.

  "Zola," Andy rasped, though it was Steve who finished.

"Zola captured Bucky's whole unit in '43 and experimented on them. It's probably how he survived the fall," Steve explained.

Andy let her gaze drop to the floor as everyone turned their eyes to her. She didn't want to see the concern in their expressions, because she refused to falter. She refused to fail— because she swore now that she would save him. No matter what it took.

Andy curled her fingers into fists. "We know what that man is capable of," she said, meeting Steve's gaze.

  "Some more than others," he replied.

  Andy looked away. Kept her eyes to the ground as she spoke, "I left S.H.I.E.L.D shortly after it was founded to search for Bucky and Steve. I knew—" she hesitated, voice shaking. "I knew that they were gone, but I wanted them to come home."

Before anyone could dwell on her words, Andrea pushed on. "Howard Stark took on the task of finding Steve, so I went looking for Bucky. All I found was blood."

Andy sucked in a sharp breath, a migraine settling between her temples. "It was an old trail," she explained. "Dried and barely there. I tried to follow it and must have ventured too close to one of their sites. Next thing I knew, I was in a HYDRA lab."

She wanted to stop. Nauseous with just the memory alone, but she knew she couldn't. "What they did to me..." Andy's fingers uncurled themselves fast, weakened by the mere recollection of her own undoing.

  It was worse... knowing that it was no longer a fate she suffered alone.

  Andrea shook her head, wanting desperately to sob. "They tortured me for hours. To imagine him—" She couldn't finish, throat constricted as her scars suddenly burned. The marks her powers couldn't heal.

Andy looked up and it was Natasha's expression she was met with. The Romanoff woman held her gaze. Gentle and without pity, only understanding.

  "It's not your fault," Nat insisted, shifting as if to move towards Andrea. She paused as soon as she did it, seeming to think better of the action. There wasn't much they could do anyhow, with the the agents seated nearby.

  It didn't matter how Natasha tried to convince her either; she was wrong.

  Andy had every opportunity to stop him— to save Bucky— if only she had known it was him. Her heart hurt. Everything hurt. When was it going to end? There was so much pain. In more ways than she could number now.

How could she have left him behind and forgotten him? How could she have let him suffer and done nothing about it? What kind of person did that make her?

  Andrea found the answer quickly, and all she could think was 'monster.'

  She swallowed back her tears. Her eyes fluttered closed once more, head pounding against her skull. "I saw him, I saw him so many times and I never recognized who he was. I should've done something..."

Blinking, she felt the world shift around her. The disorientating blood loss was getting worse. Andy released a soft groan, leaning back against the wall of the car. She felt sick.

"Even when we had nothing we had Bucky," Steve's spoke softly. The Jones woman felt the wound of those words across her heart.

The car hit a bump and Andrea gasped as she felt her herself fall forwards. Sam quickly caught her, gently helping her sit back down. Apparently he didn't require the advanced hand-cuffs.

  "She's losing a lot of blood, she needs medical attention before—" the Wilson man was silenced as one of the S.T.R.I.K.E. agents held a taser towards him, threatening.

Andrea's glare was quick to sharpen in his defense, but she soon found them widening in surprise. The agent turned their taser inwards, before sticking it into the other agent sitting next to them. It didn't take long to immobilize him completely.

  The helmet was taken off then and Andy felt stunned as she watched Maria Hill reveal herself. The woman sniffed and furrowed her nose. "Ugh, that thing was squashing my brain."

Andrea tried for a smile, but the emotion quickly faded. Her eyesight darkened and the world swam around her. Before she could even tell what had happened, Andy blinked and found herself falling once again. This time, there was no one to catch her.

  The impact of hitting the ground left her too weary to move. Andrea struggled to keep her eyes open, unable to even manage out a word against the exhaustion. The pain was dimming now, but so was everything else.

  "Who the hell is this guy?" Was all Andy heard before the world slipped away from her.

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  Andrea came to with every muscle in her body screaming in protest. She blinked slowly, clinging to the pain. Sleep still clung to her every movement. She wanted to give in; to close her eyes and forget her responsibilities.

  But, she knew she couldn't. The world may not have listened to her own cries for help, but that didn't mean she had to be deaf to the sound of other's. She still had someone to save.

  Andy sucked in a sharp breath, making her decision as she sat up. It was a slow process. Tired eyes glanced around the room as she settled against the makeshift hospital bed. From the concrete walls, to the depressing lack of natural light... it was all very prison-like.

   The Jones woman noted the machines surrounding her. She was smart enough to recognize their function as hospital equipment, but looking at them still sent a cold shiver down her spine. It reminded her too much of a past she longed to forget.

  Glancing down at her hand, she tsked at the IV connected there. Carefully, she pulled it out. At this point, there was no harm done. Fluids weren't going to do much, especially now that she was conscious. It meant her healing process had kicked in, though she still winced as her wounds smarted with every movement.

  Andrea pulled up her shirt to glance at her stitches, finding that it still had yet to fully heal. It was no wonder she was so exhausted. Andy tossed the IV aside, just as Steve and Natasha entered. Steve's gaze was more confused, as opposed to Natasha's concern.

  Andy smiled half-heartedly. "Not a big fan of being attached to strange machinery."

There was a moment of silence then as Andrea shifted to step off the bed. She paused when Steve held out his hand to help. Hesitantly, she took his arm, glancing to Natasha with a question in her eyes.

Generally, Steve wasn't so eager to get her up from a much-needed rest. In fact, he was usually the first to suggest it. It was a little suspicious, given the degree of her wounds.

  Nat shrugged. "The doctor came, but you were already healing by the time he got to you. He said with a little bit of rest and the right fluids, you would be kind-of good to go when you woke up."

"Anyways, we figured it wouldn't be long," she continued, "So, we got you some clothes." Natasha gestured to the bag hanging over Steve's shoulder.

  "Kind-of good?" Andrea asked, smiling curiously at the red-head. It wasn't exactly like them to doubt her.

  "It was a heavy hit. We didn't really know when you were going to wake up," Natasha admitted, concern flickering in her eyes. She never had to hide how much she cared. Not around Andy.

  "How are you feeling?" Steve asked.

  Andy tried to shrug, but quickly regretted the movement. "Tired, exhausted, the list goes on." She tried her best to laugh. "I mean, I'm alive and I guess that's the best I can ask for."

  Natasha gave a strained grin and clapped Andrea on the shoulder. "That's the spirit," she said.

  Andy chuckled, taking her arm from Steve's. She walked into the washroom, letting the door shut firmly behind her. The sight she was met with in the mirror was alarming. The bags beneath her eyes looked liked bruises and had her eyes always looked that lifeless?

  Andrea tore her gaze away. She didn't want to think about why she looked so haggard, or the events of the previous day. Her hands shook as she splashed water on her face, letting the cold sharpen her attention. It was refreshing to finally clean up.

When she was done, Andy quickly changed. There were compression garments for the wound along her abdomen. She secured it firmly before pulling a shirt over her head. Andy tied her hair into a ponytail, looking into the mirror once more.

  There was a scratch upon her cheek, just below her right eye and another scrape just above her left. Not to mention the bruises and cuts adorning her arms as well. She grimaced.

  She looked almost as bad as she felt.

  Andy shook her head before exiting the washroom, finding that both her and Steve had been left alone by Nat. She felt her tongue run over her lips nervously, knowing what this was about even before the Rogers man turned to face her. She simply had no intention to talk about it, because she couldn't.

  "No," was all Andy said, cutting in before Steve could even speak. His expression fell as he looked at his best friend, unsure of how to respond to her clear disinterest.

  She knew he hated this; when she was closed off and cold, but she couldn't do this. Not now. Likely not ever.

  "Andy—" Steve stopped as she quickly shook her head.

  "Don't— please, don't do this. I know you want to talk about it, Steve, but I can't." It was all she could offer him in explanation.

Every time she thought about it, it felt like some sort of weight was pressing down on her chest and she couldn't breathe. To imagine what he had to go through... Andy felt herself choking on unshed tears as they stung her eyes.

  Still, Andy knew Steve deserved more than that. "If I talk about it," she tried to explain, "If I even think about it— then I lose focus on everything that means something to me and that can't happen. What we need to focus on is stopping project Insight."

  She felt horrible for doing this to him, but it hurt too much. Her limbs felt weak and all she wanted was for Steve to drop it. But, as Andy saw his expression shift into frustration, she knew that he wasn't going to simply give up.

  Steve shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Andy, but you avoid every conversation you don't like and I'm tired of it— because it isn't always about what you want."

The Rogers man stepped closer, brow creased in distress. "I need to talk about this and you're the only person I have that understands."

  "I know I haven't always been there for you and I'm sorry," he told her. "You have no idea how guilty I feel about it."

Andy winced and let her gaze fall in shame. A sob surfaced in her chest. She recalled her argument with Steve only a few days prior and couldn't shake the self-loathing that quickly coursed through her. She still couldn't believe that she'd said those things to him.

He deserved so much more than that.

  "But, I need you," Steve pressed, the words strained with emotion. "So, please just sit and listen, even if you don't want to— even if it hurts— because I need you."

Andrea was silent as she met Steve's gaze. It was already too much. She felt the tears collecting in her eyes, but she understood. She was afraid; of the impact this conversation would have on her and the state it would leave her in once it was over. But, she would do it for him. For the person who'd been there.

The one person who had always been there, even when she didn't know it.

  "Okay," she spoke, voice quiet as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She sat back down on the hospital bed, watching patiently as Steve simply stood there.

He seemed stunned by the agreement, like he'd been expecting more of a fight. When he finally nodded and realized it was actually happening, he snapped out of his trance. Andy smiled softly, endeared by his reaction.

  Tentatively, Steve sat down beside her. He furrowed his brow, seeming unsure of how to start. "Okay. Well, first, why doesn't he remember us?"

Always starting with the hardest part, Andy thought to herself. The question was a painful reminder of her own torture. The process of isolating the mind and forcefully removing memories was as painful as it sounded.

"When that mask fell and you said his name, he didn't even blink." Disbelief and an overwhelming sadness echoed in Steve's voice as he spoke.

  Andy took his hand in hers, exhaling a shaky breath. She had to remind herself that he was there for her, just as much as she was there for him. It comforted her to be able to hold onto him. A physical reminder that she hadn't lost everything.

  "When I was with HYDRA, they would purge my memories after each mission." Andrea didn't bother sugarcoating anything, simply because she couldn't. If she stopped to mull over anything as she explained, simply to make her torment easier to swallow, then she would never be able to start again.

"They used the same machine every time. Strap you down into a chair. I don't really know how it works, just that it's painful." Andy hesitated, only because she knew the word wasn't quite right. It wasn't just pain.

  "What they did in order to utilize us as fully-functional weapons was torment," Andy whispered, her lip trembling. She couldn't look at Steve.

  "You're not the same person when you come out of it," she explained. "He could've destroyed HYDRA with his bare hands. He could've just left, but he didn't, because they strip you of everything you have."

  Andy lifted her head. It was the only time she could bring herself to look at Steve, because he had to understand. They could risk nothing. Not with this.

  "They take all the things you believe in and destroy them. Anything you once held onto; your morals, your thoughts, your memories— because when you have nothing, you become nothing." Andrea felt the words come out in choked breaths.

  "What are you saying?" Steve asked, his hand firm within her own. His voice was gentle, but the question demanded answer.

  It was getting harder to breathe through the tightness in her chest. Andy could feel the tears falling. The reality of what they were being faced with felt like walls closing in around her. A trap built to suffocate.

  "They make it so that HYDRA is all you have, the only thing you follow. They turn you into their puppet..." Andrea tried to brace herself, but still her voice shook. "So, who we saw on that bridge isn't Bucky. It's not."

  Speaking the words was harder than thinking them. What she was telling him... the unspoken question she was asking. It was killing her. Death by heartbreak. A physical manifestation of all her torment.

  And still, Andy told herself she had to be strong, even as she sobbed. "The things that happened to us are the reason we need to stop Project Insight, because I can't let HYDRA destroy any more lives."

  Even if it cost her everything— and it would.

  Steve's silence lasted only a moment. A fleeting second reserved for understanding. "We will," he promised her, strong arms pulling Andrea into a tight hug.

  Andy buried herself into the embrace, letting the sobbing run its course. As painful as it was, she was grateful Steve had pressed her to talk. Being relieved of any part of this weight and knowing the grief wasn't hers alone to bear... she could survive it. As long as she had her friends.

  When she could finally recompose herself, Andrea felt the bed shift as Steve got up from beside her. She lifted her head to look up at him. Steve gave her a comforting smile, holding out his hand for her to take.

"Come with me," he said. "There's someone you should see."

  Without hesitation, Andy took his hand in hers, letting Steve lead her out of the room. The Jones woman followed behind as they made their way down a long hallway. He walked slowly for her benefit, allowing Andy to study their surroundings.

  A few moments later, the pair came to a stop in front of a room. Steve gestured for Andrea to enter. She furrowed her brow, but trusted him enough to listen. When the door opened without restraint, Andy found a bed inside, surrounded by machines.

  And on the bed lay a familiar man, surrounded by familiar faces.

  The second she saw him, Andy felt the breath in her chest vanish. Nick Fury chuckled at Andrea's reaction and watched as she slowly approached him. It was a struggle to comprehend what she was seeing, but the shock didn't last long. Andy quickly enveloped Fury in a gentle hug.

  Nick did his best to reciprocate. "It's good to see you too, kid."

  Andy pulled back, surveying his appearance. "I thought you were dead, I watched you die," she told him, still pained by the memory. Andy tried to keep the grief from her voice, but failed as she was reminded of what she believed was her failure.

  Fury scoffed. "Did you really think I'd go down that easy?" He rose a brow, watching as a slow grin spread across Andrea's lips.

  "Well, you were pretty damn convincing," she admitted, not bothering to hide her disapproval. "Why didn't you say anything?" She stepped back to stand beside Steve.

  Fury heaved a sigh as he looked to the ceiling. He seemed to be contemplating his reply. Though, it wasn't him who responded to the Jones woman's question.

  Andy glanced over at Maria as she stepped into the room. "An attempt on the Directer's life had to look plausible," the Hill woman explained.

  "Can't kill you if you're already dead," Fury added. Andy pondered that, realizing that his course of action was something she couldn't hold against him. No matter how much the loss had hurt, he was right.

  It still didn't ease the pain she had to go through when she believed he'd died. But, she understood, because she had to. There were bigger concerns.

  "Besides," Fury continued, "I didn't know who to trust."

  Andy couldn't help but flinch. She said nothing, turning on her heel and exiting the room just as Natasha entered. It wasn't personal. She knew that.

  And yet, it still stung.

  Andrea had never asked for this life. If given the chance, there were a thousand things she would have done differently. A thousand lifetimes she would have lived, as long as it meant being spared the torment of this one.

  So long as it meant she wasn't a monster.

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