welcome home: part three

[girlwithout]

 

She lucks into the meeting of the local scumbags’ association pretty much the same way she started out in this magical wonderland of bigotry: by complete accident. She’s sitting around, staring at the card Steve gave her with his phone number to call him, when she happens to notice one of her classmates is sporting some very familiar bruising and a cut on his forehead.

Sneaking into his place and going through his room and computer doesn’t yield anything interesting, but his dad isn’t so great about electronic security. She finds stuff that leads her to their meeting place and finds a hiding place all cozy-like in the girders to listen in and record whatever they say.

“All clear. No one’s hiding out in here. Chris?”

“No bugs, Dad. We’re good.”

“Good. The last thing we want is more hero heat.”

Another guy speaks up. “Then why are we meeting at all? Shouldn’t we be keeping a low profile?”

“We’re compromised. We don’t know what information’s circulating out there, so the more quickly we act, the better. Our fairy-loving congressman is coming home in two days.” The breath in her chest clenches again – she’s really tired of the homophobic schtick they have going on here. “Larry’s gotten close enough to his aide that he can get us access. It’ll be quick and simple. One guy with a camera and one with a knife. They get inside his place while he’s asleep and – “

She’s almost grateful for the sound of a phone going off, sparing her from having to listen to them describing what they wanted to do. Almost grateful, until she realizes it’s the phone Anya gave her and it’s still in her pocket. There’s no way to fix this before they see her. She tenses, trying to figure out the best way out of the place. They have guns, so being above them like she is doesn’t give her that much of an advantage.

Just then, Steve Rogers storms into the place.

She actually kinda pauses for a moment, just watching him fight. His technique is amazing, the kind she could only hope to match in her dreams. He's all power and acrobatics, easily ducking around the goons and giving them what can only be less than their fair share of comeuppance. Given time, she has no doubt he could take all these assholes down on his own, but he doesn’t have to. She may wear the Nomad costume now, but she’s still a Bucky. Her place is at his side.

Rikki throws herself into the fight like it’s the old days, before everything happened, before Onslaught, before she died and woke up here. Like it’s just the two of them again, fighting the good fight like they were supposed to. That feeling of rightness lasts for all of a couple minutes before one member of the asshole squad starts shooting at Steve, and just. It’s like her brain hits the pause button, and everything’s focused down to one thought: I’m going to lose Steve again.

She tries to run forward and help him, but she can’t move, she can barely even breathe, because she can’t, she can’t do that again, she can’t wake up in the morning and know, again, that Steve Rogers is dead. That the people she loves just keep dying around her, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

Next thing she knows, something impacts against her head, throwing her to the side with the force of the backhand. She barely even registers that it’s her classmate currently doing his best to crack her skull open before he gathers enough power for another punch that’s strong enough to completely destroy her balance. She’s barely conscious before her head smacks against the ground.

 

 

Rikki wakes up on a stretcher, an EMT by her side. Her head feels kinda shitty and the rest of her is pretty gross, but she only manages to stay still for a couple minutes before she can’t ignore the need to talk to Steve. She feels kinda bad for pushing ditching the EMT, but this can't wait.

“ – and we’ve got you to thank, Commander Rogers.”

“I only piggy-backed on what Nomad had already uncovered. She really deserves the credit here.”

“And I’d like to thank her as well, of course.”

“Sure, just as soon as she regains consciousness – “

Her timing is great, for once, because she shuffles up stiffly, still holding a hand to her head to feel out the bump where it smacked against the floor. “Hi. Conscious here and all that. Steve…?”

She takes a deep breath. “Could we talk?”

As they’re walking away from the scene, she decides to open with the thing that had been bugging her since she woke up. “So I guess you saved the day. Lucky thing you showed up, huh?”

He frowns at her, concerned. “They tagged you pretty good, Rikki. You ought to be resting right now.”

She can’t let him dismiss this. “Isn’t it?” 

“Isn’t…?”

“Isn’t it lucky. That you showed up. Then again, maybe it wasn’t luck. Like maybe you’ve been following me?” She can’t help the bitterness seeping into her voice, because she’s right, isn’t she. He doesn’t think she’s good enough anymore.

“Rikki – Listen, I knew you might go after these guys again. I launched my own investigation into their activities…”

“And it led you here, same as me.” She wants to believe him, God knows she does, and he has to know that, but… she can’t quite trust that wholeheartedly like she might have been able to once. “Guess that makes sense.”

Things get quiet for a moment, before she finally feels the words bubbling up in her throat, the ones that have been there all along, ever since he offered to give her a normal life: “I’m staying.”

He’s disappointed. He doesn’t bother to hide it, but he’s concerned, too, and suddenly it just hurts. Maybe it’s the head injury, maybe it’s the after-effects of that panic thing she had in the middle of the fight, but just… she almost lost him, again, and suddenly it hurts to be standing here, looking at him. “You’re… Can we talk about why, or – “

It’s hard to breathe again, but it’s different this time, an ache in her chest that makes its way up to her throat. "I really – I can’t talk about it now. It’s too – “

It’s too raw. It’s too new. “I’m… I’m gonna go, okay…?”

She barely hears him say her name before she takes off running.