CHAPTER SEVEN —
( Real human of me to get flung fifty feet by a psychic pulse and crack half my spine. )

────────────────

        The Quinjet soared above the clouds, its engines thrumming steadily. Inside, no one spoke—each person was lost in their own ritual of coping with the aftermath of battle.

Steve sat on the cold floor of the jet, legs outstretched, his back pressed against a wall. Cradled in his arms was Evelyn, her head nestled against his chest.

When Evelyn called his name, Steve hadn't expected the sight that met him. She'd be dead if she were a normal human—he was sure of it. And she looked it, lying there motionless. That terrified him more than the blood or the sight of her broken spine. He could have lost her.

Each bump of turbulence sent a jolt through the cabin and a sharper one down Evelyn's spine. The pain started like fire, searing through muscle and bone, forcing her to grit her teeth and ride the wave until it ebbed. For the first hour, every second felt like an eternity. But now the pain had dulled, settling into a relentless throb—a reminder that her healing factor was working.

Eliza crouched beside them, her brow furrowed as she studied the dried blood smeared across Evelyn's dark blue armour, which was cracked in places from the impact. Her usually sarcastic eyes were uncharacteristically solemn.

"She hit the floor like a rag doll. Her back's busted up pretty bad," Steve said before Eliza could speak, his voice low and tense.

Evelyn groaned, a sound pulled from somewhere deep in her chest. "Feels like hell."

"You're lucky you're part god. A normal person would be a smear on the concrete," Eliza muttered, not unkindly, then cracked a smile. "However, you will need a new suit."

Evelyn's lip twitched. "I didn't feel too godly when I dropped multiple stories and landed flat on my back."

From the front, Tony's voice piped in. "Maybe next time, don't assume there's only one enhanced psycho on the field. That girl had more power in her pinky than the other one."

"No one saw her coming," Steve snapped the edge in his voice enough to silence Tony for a beat.

Natasha joined them, crouching beside Eliza with practised grace. "Let's not turn this into a blame game," she said softly. "We focus on getting everyone home in one piece."

Bruce sat a few feet away with earbuds in, opera music soothing both him and the Hulk. His eyes softened as he pulled one earbud out when he heard Evelyn groan.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern threading through his voice. He couldn't shake the image of Steve rushing onto the Quinjet, Evelyn limp in his arms. For a moment, Tony had thought she was gone—until she said, "Way to compliment a girl, Tony," and proved otherwise.

"Like shit," Evelyn muttered. Then, after a beat, "But I'm good. I've had worse."

Across the cabin, Clint shifted on the bench, wincing as he pressed a hand to his bandaged side. "You've had worse? Since when?"

Steve glanced down at her, his brow furrowed in doubt. Evelyn let out a hoarse chuckle. "I count the psychological torture I endured from HYDRA."

Steve's face darkened. She met his eyes, barely lifting her head and whispered, "Didn't want to scare anyone."

"You don't have to pretend," Steve said quietly, leaning in until his forehead rested gently against hers. "You're allowed to hurt, especially in front of family."

Her breath caught. She blinked fast. "If I stop pretending I'm alright, I'll probably cry."

He slid his hand into hers and gave it a firm squeeze. "Then keep pretending. I'll be here either way."

Her voice was just a whisper. "You're always here."

There was no accusation in her words—only gratitude.

The quiet that followed was thick, with everything unsaid but not unwelcome. A collective exhale after too many held breaths.

"Thor, report on the Hulk?" Natasha called out suddenly, standing near Bruce now. Evelyn looked towards them and noticed the quiet way Nat's hand lingered on Bruce's shoulder—Evelyn smiled at them.

"The gates of Hel are filled with the screams of his victims," Thor smiled. Eliza and Evelyn snorted at the same time. Bruce groaned and put his face in his hands. "But not the screams of the dead, of course. No, no, wounded screams. Mainly whimpering, a great deal of complaining, and tales of sprained deltoids and gout."

Eliza deadpanned, "Well, of course, you didn't hear any screams from the dead. You know... because they're dead."

Before Bruce could respond, Tony's voice crackled over the intercom from the cockpit. "Hey, Banner—Cho's flying in from Seoul. Is she cool with using your lab?"

Bruce nodded, massaging his temples. "Yeah. She knows her way around."

Natasha gently squeezed his arm before heading over to Clint. Bruce crossed the jet and lowered himself beside Steve and Evelyn.

"I've timed Evelyn's healing before," he told them. "Based on the damage, she'll be upright in about an hour. Walking, maybe limping. An hour after that, she should be running. Give it a day, and she'll be throwing HYDRA agents through walls again."

Evelyn gave a slow, aching sigh, her body relaxing instantly. "Thanks, Bruce." Steve nodded his thanks as well.

Bruce stood and moved to check on Clint.

"Okay, not to be that guy," Tony called, "but are we gonna talk about the red-magic witch and the Olympic sprinter, or are we saving the debrief until Evelyn's spine reassembles itself?"

"After," Steve said, firm and final.

There was a pause. Then Tony's voice: "After it is."

The Quinjet hit another pocket of wind, but this time, Evelyn didn't flinch. Her breathing had levelled out. Her eyes fluttered shut. She squeezed Steve's hand gently—I'm still here.

────────────────

The Quinjet touched down on the platform with a dull thud that shook the jet. Before the engines even finished winding down, Bruce was already descending the ramp, urgency in his stride as he made a beeline for the med bay. The others followed in varying degrees of exhaustion and injury.

Clint was first out, pale and sweating, his side still bleeding despite the field dressing. Medics appeared instantly, wheeling him away on a gurney while Natasha kept pace.

Inside the jet, Steve went to pick Evelyn up, but she quickly smacked his hand away.

"I can walk," she muttered through gritted teeth, trying to push herself up.

Steve arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "No, you can't."

"I've had worse," she insisted, one leg wobbling beneath her.

"No, you haven't," he said, voice low but firm.

She glared at him, the challenge in her eyes leaving no room for debate. Steve sighed but stepped in again, gently looping her arm around his shoulders. His other hand slid around her waist, anchoring her. Her pride might have protested, but her body didn't—it leaned into him heavily, her limbs sluggish and trembling from keeping her upright. If Steve noticed how much weight she put on him, he didn't say anything. He matched her pace with ease as they made their way off the jet and into the tower.

By the time they reached the medical wing, Bruce had already activated the systems. Evelyn's steps were uneven, her jaw locked in pain, but she refused to stumble—not with Steve beside her. His hand at her back was the only thing keeping her grounded. Every nerve screamed, but falling apart wasn't an option.

Steve guided Evelyn onto one of the medical beds with that same maddening, heartbreaking gentleness. She clenched her teeth as she sat, sharp pain lancing through her spine. Don't flinch. Don't show it. She couldn't meet his eyes. If she did, she might lose whatever grip she still had.

"You sure you don't want to take a nap first?" Steve asked quietly, his hand warm and steady on her knee.

"I rested on the jet," she muttered, even though it wasn't really rest.

"Barely."

"Steve."

His lips pressed together tightly, but he didn't argue.

They could see Helen Cho working swiftly beside Clint through the adjacent window. One of her advanced tissue regeneration machines hovered over his torso, emitting tiny pulses of light that began to stitch muscle and skin back together. The room hummed with soft beeps from the machines tracking his vitals.

Bruce approached Evelyn's side, tapping at a console. A transparent hologram sprang to life above them, displaying a slowly rotating image of Evelyn's spine. Cracks radiated through several vertebrae like spiderwebs, and dark clusters indicated bruising around the nerves.

"Your healing factor's working," Bruce said, adjusting the display. "Slower than usual, but active. You're looking at full mobility in under twelve hours if the rate holds."

Evelyn exhaled through her nose, trying not to show how much relief that brought. "Good. So I'm not going to miss the debrief."

Steve gave her a sidelong look. "Of course, you're not."

"Damn right, I'm not."

The debriefing room had a circular table in the middle and high-tech screens and glowing projection displays in the middle. The team were seated in their designated seats at the central table: Steve sat beside Evelyn, who—despite her loud protests—had been rolled in by wheelchair, scowling the entire way.

An empty seat sat on her other side—Clint's usual spot. Natasha had claimed the one beside it. Eliza was tapping rapidly on a tablet, fingers flying, while Bruce sat hunched beside her, already deep in thought.

Thor sat next, Mjolnir resting on the table like a casual afterthought. Besides him and on the other side of Steve was Tony, who was slouched low in his seat, chin propped on his hand, wearing the look of someone who did not want to be there, and he never did.

Maria Hill stood beside Eliza, a hologram of two unfamiliar faces rotating in the center of the room.

"Wanda and Pietro Maximoff," she began. "Sokovian twins. Twenty-five. Parents died when a shell collapsed their apartment building. They were ten. They volunteered for experimental procedures run by HYDRA under the pretence of S.H.I.E.L.D. operations."

"HYDRA's favourite play," Tony muttered. "Swap the logo, pretend they're good."

Maria nodded. "Pietro possesses superhuman speed. Wanda—telekinesis, telepathy, and a form of chaos-based energy manipulation."

"Felt that one," Evelyn joked lightly.

Steve looked over at her—concern flashing in his eyes. She felt it but chose to ignore it.

"They're incredibly dangerous, particularly Wanda," Maria warned, her voice laced with concern. "I fear that if we don't locate her soon, the next time she strikes, she might not just injure someone—she could end up killing an innocent person instead."

"I don't think it was intentional, though," Evelyn immediately said, her voice steady but soft. "She looked terrified. Of me, of herself—I couldn't tell. And when she hit me... it didn't feel deliberate, not with the force of that blast. The one she used on me was like something inside her of her lashed out. Like she wasn't in control—like it was controlling her."

Tony leaned back in his chair, frowning. "So we're saying the walking time bomb didn't mean to go off. Great. Comforting."

Steve folded his arms, and the tension was evident in his posture. "If you think that she didn't mean to hurt you the way she did, then we need to change our approach once we find her," he said. "Tread carefully, speak calmly, and not approach with violence."

"She's just a kid. A scared one, obviously, with too much power and no one to teach her how to use it," Natasha said quietly.

Bruce's voice was quiet but firm. "I know what it's like to lose control. To become something you didn't mean to. People get hurt. Even when it's the last thing you want, we should find her and help her out, help her control this power."

"This power that nearly killed Evelyn," Eliza reminded them. "Right. Well, intentional or not, she's not something we can ignore."

Thor nodded solemnly. "There is strength in her—dangerous, untamed strength. But I have seen fear turn power into chaos. It is not always malice behind the blow."

"If we view her as a threat, that's all she'll ever be," Evelyn sighed. "I don't believe she wanted to hurt me. I think she just broke. That makes her dangerous, but not the enemy. Not yet."

Eliza tapped a key, and the hologram shifted to overhead footage of Sokovia. Smoking buildings. Rubble. Fires. People fleeing. Bodies being carried on stretchers.

"Strucker didn't care about collateral damage," she said. "We estimate forty-six wounded, twelve critical. That number would be much higher if Bruce hadn't gone code green."

Bruce looked down, his jaw tightening. No one spoke.

"I've already called for additional help to Sokovia, and if any patients are critical, we will transport them to better hospitals," Tony told them. "I'll cover the costs for every patient and worker, of course."

"Thank you, Tony," Steve said. "Now, what's the word on Strucker?"

"He's in NATO custody," Maria said.

Thor's voice broke the silence. "The sceptre is finally in our possession. But we still do not know what it is fully capable of."

"Yeah," Tony said, leaning forward. "Which is why it's time we figure out how to lock it down before it causes another disaster."

Steve glanced around the table, his voice steady and commanding. "We need to assess what the sceptre is capable of and how it's giving power and control to whoever comes into contact with it. We also need to find the Maximoff twins. If we don't, someone worse will."

"Probably HYDRA again," Natasha added.

Evelyn, still visibly exhausted, crossed her arms while seated in the wheelchair. "Next time, we need better intelligence. We can't walk blindly into a city filled with unknown-enhanced threats. Otherwise, next time, even someone with a healing factor might not be able to make it out."

Steve reached over and grabbed her hand. "We'll make sure of it."

Tony clapped once. "Alright, science buddies. Banner, Eli, Evie—you're with me in the lab. Time to poke the cosmic stick."

Bruce and Eliza both nodded. Evelyn hesitated.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "No pressure, Frosty. If you need to sit this one out, I'll try not to cry about it."

Evelyn gave him a mock glare. "Thank you, Anthony. But yeah, I might sit this one out. For now. However, if you desperately need my brilliant brain—"

"We'll call the ice goddess hotline," Tony said.

Evelyn cracked a faint smile.

"I'll watch for any Maximoff movement," Maria said. "If they surface again, we'll know."

With that, the team dispersed, all concerned about Loki's sceptre and how it granted two seemingly ordinary civilians impressive and powerful abilities.

────────────────

The tower had gone quiet. Most of the team had either retreated to their rooms or buried themselves in their respective projects. The lab was still buzzing faintly somewhere on the lower floors, where Tony and Eliza were likely deep into sceptre analysis, but up here, it was still.

The med bay was behind them, the debriefing long over, but the tension between Evelyn and Steve hadn't faded with the end of the mission.

Evelyn carefully eased herself onto the edge of their bed, one hand braced against the mattress, her expression drawn tight with the pain she refused to show. She'd gotten changed slowly, deliberately—black shorts and a faded Stark Industries hoodie borrowed from Eliza months ago. Her legs trembled slightly as she settled back against the pillows, drawing in a shaky breath she didn't think Steve noticed.

Across the room, Steve stood near the dresser, tugging on a plain white t-shirt over his broad chest, the muscles in his shoulders flexing with controlled effort. Too controlled.

She watched him in the mirror. His jaw was tight, and his hands balled briefly into fists before he relaxed them. Something was simmering just beneath the surface.

"You're quiet," Evelyn said softly.

Steve didn't answer right away. He pulled on his pyjama pants, exhaled slowly, and then turned to face her.

"You could've died today."

Evelyn blinked. "Steve, I didn't—"

"You could've died, Evelyn."

The way he said her name—sharp with warning, thick with fear—sent a chill down her spine. Her mouth went dry.

"I didn't," she said. "I'm here. I'm healing."

Steve stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't raising his voice—he didn't have to. His tone was quiet but cut deeper than a shout ever could.

"That doesn't make it okay that you lied."

Her brow furrowed. "I didn't lie."

"Bullshit." The word escaped before he could stop it. He dragged a hand down his face, trying to collect himself. "You brushed it off. You brushed me off. You tried to walk with a broken spine."

"I'm healing—"

"You were bleeding internally. Your spine was fractured in multiple places. You could barely breathe, Eve. And still, you said you were fine. You refused help. You slapped my hand away."

Her throat tightened. "Because everyone was watching. And I can't be the weak one in front of them."

Steve's voice softened, but his intensity didn't fade. "They're not just teammates. They're your family." He came closer and lowered himself in front of her, eye to eye. "You don't have to prove anything to them."

"I do," she whispered. "Because if I don't, I go back to being the HYDRA weapon they let in out of pity. I have to earn my place every single day."

He shook his head. "That's not what they see. That's not what I see."

She pressed her lips into a firm line, but her eyes betrayed her, glimmering with conflict.

Steve reached for her hand, his fingers warm as they laced gently through hers. "You're the one who holds this team together when we start to fall apart. You've earned your place a hundred times over. But you're still human, Evelyn. You're allowed to hurt. You're allowed to ask for help—especially from me."

Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. His thumb traced slow, steady circles over her knuckles.

"I was terrified," Steve admitted, his voice low and rough. "I carried you onto that jet, and you were limp in my arms. You weren't moving. You could barely breathe. And all I could think was—what if she doesn't come back from it this time? You're just incredibly lucky that you can heal like a god."

Silence settled, heavy and unspoken.

When Evelyn finally looked up, her voice trembled. "If I let it in—the pain, the fear—it'll swallow me whole. I block it out because once it gets in... I don't know how to stop it."

Steve leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against hers.

"Then let me help you stop it," he murmured. "You don't have to carry it alone anymore." She closed her eyes, breathing him in, her fingers gripping his tighter. She didn't say thank you. She didn't need to. The way she leaned into him told everything.

He stood up and gently tucked the blankets around her legs before sliding into bed beside her. She shifted just enough to rest against his side, her head on his shoulder.

"Still mad?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"Furious," he said. "But I love you more than I'm mad."

She gave a small, tired smile. "Lucky me."

Steve kissed the top of her head, then wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the weight of the day finally settled around them—quiet, heavy, inescapable.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then Evelyn's voice broke the silence, low and raw. "I should've seen it coming. I should've anticipated her powers. I... froze."

"You didn't freeze," Steve said quietly. "You hesitated. That's not weakness, Eve. That's humanity."

She scoffed. "Right. Real human of me to get flung fifty feet by a psychic pulse and crack half my spine."

"That's not what I meant. You saw fear in someone we're supposed to see as a threat. You hesitated because you cared. That's what makes you a leader."

"I'm supposed to protect everyone. I can't do that if I'm hesitating."

"You can't protect anyone if you lose your compassion."

That hit harder than she expected.

"I didn't used to care like this," she murmured. "I mean, I did. But not enough to stop me. Not enough to slow me down."

"You've let people in now. It's not weakness, Evelyn. It's growth," he replied. "And I've never seen you as weak, Evelyn. No one does."

Her eyes flicked up at him, searching for any trace of pity—but all she saw was steady warmth and quiet understanding.

"You're allowed to need people, Evie," Steve added, looking down at her. "That doesn't make you any less strong. It makes you real."

A long silence fell between them again. Not uncomfortable—just full. Evelyn finally let herself relax.

"I love you," she said quietly.

Steve smiled. "And I love you."

────────────────

September, 2012

New York City was quieter now, wrapped in a tired hush after Loki and his aliens appeared and destroyed as much as they could within two hours. Helicopters still hovered occasionally, searchlights roamed the skyline, but most chaos had settled.

Evelyn stood at the rooftop's edge, arms crossed, a hoodie zipped up over her tank top. She wasn't cold—she never really got cold—but she liked the weight of the fabric, the illusion of being covered.

Behind her, footsteps. Steady, deliberate, familiar. She didn't turn.

"I thought you'd be asleep," Steve said gently.

"Didn't feel like it," she replied.

He stopped a few feet behind her, not pushing closer or pressing.

"Want company?"

After a pause, she gave a faint nod and heard the scuff of his boots as he came to stand beside her.

They stood in silence for a while. The breeze tugged lightly at her hair, cool and easy. Steve didn't speak. He just stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes scanning the horizon like he always did—like a soldier on overwatch, even when there was no threat.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked tired but awake. Like he always did.

"You're not going to ask what I'm doing up here?" she finally said.

Steve shook his head. "You'll tell me if you want to."

That answer—so simple, so unassuming—knocked something loose in her chest.

Another long moment passed.

"I wasn't always a spy," she said, voice quiet.

He looked at her. "I know."

"I wasn't even always S.H.I.E.L.D. Not really." Her fingers curled over her forearm, nails pressing against the fabric of her hoodie. "Before that, I was... something else."

Steve stayed quiet, letting her speak on her terms.

"I was an assassin for HYDRA," she said. "They trained me to kill people. Efficiently and quietly. And I was very good at it." She didn't look at him. "They dictated my every move—where to go, who to eliminate, and what to think—and I complied without question. Whenever I began to doubt my orders, they would erase my memories and fry my brain. Then, they would recite a specific set of words that effectively reset me back to being a HYDRA assassin."
Her voice cracked slightly at the end, but she didn't stop.

"My partner helped me get out. And then Nick Fury found me, and S.H.I.E.L.D. took me in. I've spent since 1993 trying to undo what I was. Trying to be someone else. Someone better."

Steve didn't flinch. He didn't step away. His expression stayed calm, listening—not judging. "You don't have to tell me more," he said. "Not unless you want to."

She finally turned to look at him, searching his face for any sign of recoil. "I needed you to know that. Because if you're going to stick around, if we're going to try this, I can't pretend I'm someone I'm not."

Steve met her gaze. Steady. Unmoving. "Evelyn... we all carry ghosts. Some of us had choices. Some didn't."

Her throat tightened.

"You're not what they made you," he said. "You're who you chose to become. That's what matters to me."

She blinked, and before she could stop herself, she let out a shaky breath and leaned slightly into him. Not much. Just enough that their shoulders brushed.

He didn't move away. Instead, he slipped his hand into hers. Warm. Grounding. No hesitation.

That was the moment Evelyn realised something had shifted. When it became okay to trust someone with her past—not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Because Steve didn't just see her—he accepted her.

No questions. No judgment. Just quiet understanding.

And for Evelyn Parrish, that was everything.

AUTHORS NOTE
Tell me what you thiiiiiiiink 😁
This chapter was a big one! I mixed a couple of chapters together and kinda hoped for the best and this is what came out of it 🕺
Don't forget to like and comment
Love you all!!!
Pheebs / -rosepetal