Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Take it with the love it's given

Take it with a pinch of salt

Take it to the tax-man

- A Wolf at the Door, Radiohead

The sunlight didn't reach far through the half opened shudders. John could hardly make out the shapes filling his room. He hadn't slept. It wasn't new to him, there were plenty of nightmares to keep him awake.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of bed and guessed his way to the door. Before opening it, he stopped, his hand hovering directly over the doorknob. There was a sharp pain in his chest, which was weighing him down. He switched on the light and stumbled away from the door, turning his back to it.

His breathing was heavy and uneven as he frantically looked around his room, trying to find a shadow out of place.

Everything was as it always was. His bed was like he left it, his closet was slightly open. There were a few shirts laying around. The drawing from his son was still hung next to the door. There was not a single thing out of place. His sleep deprivation made him even more paranoid than he already was.

A chime from his pocket fully snapped him out of his unjust panic. He checked his phone, only to see that Valentina wanted yet another team interview. That meant looking presentable and keeping his mouth shut. Two things that were not his expertise. It also meant press in his face and pointed questions. He didn't like interviews as Captain America. Best believe it was worse after.

Walker couldn't stay away from articles, videos and comments about himself and the team. The only person who tended to be scrutinised like him, was Alexei. There were really creative ways to mock him. The Red Scare was still deeply engraved in Americas spirit. It was not fair to the man, he just wanted recognition, someone who looked up to him.

John showered quickly and put on his uniform. The barret had not been as foreign to him as he thought it would be. Then again - why would it have been? He served for half his life.

He shook his head and stepped into the hallway, making his way into the newly renovated kitchen. The others were all there already, with the exception of Bob. But that wasn't too uncommon, he didn't tag along at press meetings. 

"Mornin'." He said as he opened the fridge. Bucky gave him a nod, as he took another bite of his sandwich. "Good morning, friend!" The slap on his back was even more enthusiastic than normally. Alexei was always excited for interviews, he took in all the attention possible. "Awake already?" Ava joked while looking at the clock with comically raised eyebrows. She'd finished eating already and was playing around on her phone. John grunted, 10 AM wasn't that late.

"Hey, wake Bob, would you? I want to finish the egg while it's hot. And Ava won't move." Yelena said quickly, before shoveling more of her plate into her mouth. "Yeah, under no circumstances."  John shook his head, it was too early to retaliate. "Sure..." He put the bowl and cereal down. (It had their faces on it, Alexei bought groceries this Monday.) 

Yelena looked positively surprised. "Wow, look at you! John Walker, being a decent human being for once." He rolled his eyes and muttered. "Whatever." 

Bob's room was almost next to his, so he walked the exact way back he just went down. He wasn't annoyed, no, definitely not, just hungry. That was it.

Quietly, he opened the door, just to find out, that Bob was already awake. He was probably just about to join the others. John sighed quietly. "Hey, you're awake already? We were waiting for you at breakfast." The man turned around to him, a small, almost mischievous grin on his lips. "You and the others or just Yelena?" He put some socks on, that had been lying in the floor before his bed.

John shrugged. "It's always nice to see you up and around." He was surprised, that he was telling the truth. These past few months, Bob and he had grown into good friends. John thought, that Bob was one of the team members he was the most comfortable to be around. Though, Ava beat him by a bit. Something about her was very pleasant. Maybe her voice? She also reminded him of his sister, maybe it was that... it was probably that.

Bob seemed genuinely happy about his words. "Well, then, don't want to keep you waiting any longer..." The two walked back to the kitchen and John was ready to finally fill his stomach.

"Morning, Bob." Yelena nodded at the man beside John as he sat down next to her. He himself went back to his empty bowl and let it overflow with the cereal.

Bucky spoke up when everyone had settled down. "So... press conference? You guys know why?" Walker shook his head, Ava did, too. "Me neither..." The older man grumbled. "Maybe it's another discussion about how we're supposed to act for the public..." Ava chimed in. 

"Well, we help them of course! I don't understand why we should discuss this all the time." Alexei was always very eccentric with his gesturing, this time, he almost knocked the cereal box to the ground. 

"Well, aslong as we aren't forced to talk like last time..." Walker said, more to himself but of course, the others catched this and the room grew uncomfortably quiet. 'Last time', they'd bothered him for so long, he'd snapped and insulted the reporter before leaving and smashing a wall in anger. Not one of his proudest moments. Bucky had tried talking to him after, wanting to get him to see a therapist. But Walker wasn't insane. He didn't need help. He just needed some time to get used to this life. It was fine. The nightmares would leave eventually. 

Bob spoke up cautiously. "I'm sure they won't..." He just hummed in agreement, finishing his bowl and refilling it again. The discussion didn't continue. After a few minutes he got up to go to the bathroom. "Be right back." "No need to rush." Ava chimed after him. 

The feeling of dread hadn't died down this whole time, he'd tried to ignore it, but it was starting to drive him crazy. Why was his heart racing so fast? When he looked around the corner of the hallway, it suddenly felt, as if the walls were closing in on him.

No, it didn't just feel like it. It was actually happening. He turned to flee the shadows stretching out towards him and to warn the others in the kitchen. Why was this happening?! Bob seemed fine today. 

In the blink of an eye, he was cornered. Now, he stood in front of one of the windows, which allowed him to watch over the city before the pitch black took it.

It was no use. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before walking directly into the shadow. His friend needed someone and John would try to help him. 

He expected to hear his angry wife and his son crying for attention. Maybe Lemar's dead eyes or a scared shout. But there was nothing. He was still in the tower. The weak shine of the city lights streamed over his face. It was night. 

Why was he in the tower? John furrowed his brows. Why would the panic rooms show him this place? He had no negative experiences in it, quite the opposite. The only bad thing that had happened here was the fight against Bob and that had been during the day.

Was there another member of the team, that had bad experiences it? He didn't think so... he hoped so, atleast.  Walker regretted not grabbing his shield earlier. It was broken and looked ridiculous but it was still his. Atleast he had his gun. He cautiously stepped out of the room and into the corridor. There was no one around. His mind lingered on the shield.

It wasn't his ego upset about the way it looked now. Well, maybe a bit. But mostly he just felt sick looking at it, holding it. It was responsible for the death of a man, who had surrendered to him. A man whose name he still didn't know but was so closely intertwined with.

He was ashamed after seeing Lemar's parents. Before accepting the role, he thought it would be the best thing to happen to them. And then Lemar was dead. Just like that, thrown carelessly against a wall. Then she said he didn't matter. Didn't matter.

If there was only one person in the world who mattered it would be Lemar. He saved so many lives, he deserved the honorifics and titles more than he himself ever did. If Lemar had been Captain America, he would still hold the title. It just wasn't fair.

But neither was killing a man who had surrendered, a man who was terrified and begging.

Excuse him for being upset that the symbol for all of that was being ridiculed and dragged across the mud. He didn't laugh when the others joked about it. He ignored pointed questions about it on interviews, which he was forced to partake in. The shield was what he lost. Not just himself, but his bestfriend, wife and son, too.

He had destroyed himself in ways he had never thought were possible.

His ramblings came to a hold, when he heard voices and laughter. He followed the noise to the living room and hid behind the corner of the corridor. Who knew, what awaited him here?

The panic room was so expansive compared to usual... and it took so long for something to happen. Where was everyone else? He cautiously stole a look around the corner and his heart dropped. 

The Avengers were sitting on the couches, discussing something.

Not his Avengers but the actual ones. He couldn't look away. Whose room was this? Who of the team could've possibly experienced something here? Maybe Bucky? He knew most of the Avengers but... Walker doubted he'd been in the tower, that didn't make any sense. The tower was sold to Valentina at the time the fight over the Sokovia Accords startet.

Bucky couldn't possibly have been here, neither could one of the others. If it wasn't a shame room... just what was this place? One of them, sitting with his back to Walker, suddenly spoke up: "Someone broke in." Well, shit. If this wasn't a shame room, they would see him, right? What should he do? He backed away slowly.

Steadying his breathing wasn't too hard. Neither was quietly slipping into a side door and closing it. He wasn't really the stealthy type but through fighting alongside Ava he had picked up some skills. Walker made his way to the middle of the room, where a vent was accessible overhead. He knew the map of the building perfectly, the team had decided it would be important to know exit routes, in case Valentina tried something funny. That plan assumed she wouldn't bomb them. You never knew with that woman.

Right now, Walker was more than glad, that Valentina was such a vile person. If she hadn't been, he wouldn't be crawling above the living room now. 

He hoped, that he was quiet enough. Someone with enhanced senses might've heard him by now. Don't think about it too hard, just keep crawling. You'll get out, it's alright.

A shot rang out, almost hitting him. Shit. He instinctly reached for his shield. There was no way he could fight against all of the Avengers. He dodged another bullet, more lucky than strategic. It was no use. He hid his gun in a pocket, which had been a recommendation by Ava. Walker hit the vent with his right fist. A second later he was lying on the floor of the living room. He got on his feet just as quickly.

A dozen pairs of eyes and even more weapons were aimed at him. 

"Who are you?!" Natasha Romanoff. He'd seen her on so many screens. In person she looked even more like Yelena. Even though they weren't related, they had the same look in their eyes. Analytical and fierce. He wasn't sure if it came from their time spent together or the Red Room. 

He put his hands up. "Who are you?!" Her voice rang again, it lacked Yelena's charming accent. "Walker." Revealing more would lead to his death, he was sure of that. A shiver ran down his neck, he felt like a pig ready for slaughter.

"What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?!" He let his eyes wander towards the voice. He was met with the sight of Iron Man. Tony Stark. "What the hell...?" He mouthed quietly, his fear was slowly being replaced by confusion. If it isn't a panic room... was he dead? That couldn't be it. When would he have died? Also- some of the people here were still alive as far as he knew. 

Time travel was an option, too. The Avengers had done it to bring back people after the Blib. But why would he have gone back? And how?

"Whatever..., 'Walker'. That's as specific as John Doe, by the way..." Tony began, his face was cold. The total opposite of the way he had carried himself in the press and public. "You're going to tell us exactly how you got in." That seemed to gnaw at him the most...

"What do you want?" He knew that voice. It felt like he'd heard it more than his own. A cold shiver ran down his spine, spreading in his whole body. Walker turned his head slightly and there he stood, Steve Rogers. The Captain America. Subconsciously, he straightened up, resuming a familiar pose.

What could he possibly say to make them trust him? Well- enough to lower their weapons, at least. Maybe convincing them, that he didn't belong was the safest choice? Would revealing that he was from the future impact the course of events or something?

"What year is it?" Walker blurted out without further thought, instantly regretting it. The Captain eyed him strangely as if Walker had said a joke that didn't land. Nathasha aimed her gun higher, so it would hit his head.

Asking that question after Captain America had spoken up had been a major mistake from his part. He sighed quietly, another bowl of cereal sounded like the best, most unachievable thing in the world right now.

Even then, he'd rather sit in an interview and be grilled by some journalist than whatever he'd gotten into. "One more time. What do you want? How did you get in?" Natasha staggered closer. "I used the elevator." The man was sick of this. Of course shit like this would happen to him. She rolled her eyes, Tony did, too but he was more eccentric with it. The whole time John had been screaming Bob's name in his mind, as if to summon him. It didn't work. He cursed underneath his breath. 

"Enough of this, friends! Let me talk to him!" Thor had just gotten up. He was freakishly tall... It was more than intimidating to have him towering over him. Walker wasn't the shortest man either, sometimes he had to duck to enter a room. The god's eyes were a tad too blue, would he electrocute him now? To be honest...he wouldn't mind if he did.

"Who are you, fool?! Breaking into our mighty home unannounced!" He talked like Alexei, all flowery and loud. Less flailing arms though. "I'm Walker. As said. And I don't know how I got here. As said." To be honest, he'd been bothered, the moment he'd gotten out of bed and read the text from Valentina. He should've just stayed in there, waiting for sleep that wouldn't come.

Thor blinked lazily. Then he shrugged and took a step back.

"I think he truly doesn't know." The Captain said after a minute of charged silence. "Of course you're the one to believe something like that." Tony shook out his hand, which had been pointing at John this whole time. The blue laser, that had been ready to shoot him for any wrong movement shut off.

"Let's just alert Fury and get this over with." Oh, no. Absolutely not. He would not deal with S.H.I.E.L.D after the things he'd heard from Ava and Bucky. They were the last thing he wanted to come in contact with during this time.

His mind was running a million miles a minute before it came to an abrupt halt. Guilt trip them. Use knowledge as leverage. He could hear the Team arguing. Natasha had just said, she'd contact Fury when Walker spoke up. "Yelena wouldn't like that." There was a confused silence. Clint, who had been quiet during the altercation looked at him, his eyes narrowed. 

Then Walker was quickly turned around and faced Natasha. Her eyes were furious, gun now pressed against his chin, pushing it up. "How do you know her?!" She spat out. John had never been so intimidated in his life, even in the Void he hadn't been so close to death. 

"I'm a friend of hers." Natasha pushed him away, walking backwards and positioning herself next to Steve. He put his hand on her shoulder but she pushed him off. Most of the members were far enough that he could make a run for it. If he was in the past he could... Lemar. 

Lemar. His other comrades, Hector and Jerome... Olivia. Mike. He could save Mike. There were so many people he could save now. He had to get to them. Would that change this timeline? Would his future be erased? He pressed his teeth together to ground himself in reality. He could worry about that, when there wasn't a gun pointed at his head.

"Who do you work for?!" Next to Natasha, Steve was still analysing him. His gaze was eerily similar to the way Bucky looked when he was thinking. John had to look away. "The government." He was just talking in order to stall time. The longer he talked without action, the less prepared the members were going to be for his escape. Atleast ideally.

"Uh huh, sure. Well-" Tony stepped forward to say something but Natasha cut him off. "Where is she." It should've been a question but from her mouth it was a threat.

"Right now? Not sure." Now. He had to make a run for it now. Or he couldn't leave at all. "The Red Room is still operating and it's creating a gas to mind control the widows." Natasha's eyes reflected her inner thoughts for the first time. She was scared, terrified. 

Walker felt terrible for setting her up. He'd need to make it up to her by getting to Yelena. But that would be difficult. Everyone in the room looked around uncomfortably, their weapons were afterthoughts.

Taking his chance, Walker bolted to the window and jumped against it. It shattered and he fell around 93 stories.

His landing created a crater. Walker quickly scrambled to his feet and continued the escape. It didn't seem like he was hurt at all. He'd never felt so inhuman before. The thought hit him like a truck. Somehow he disgusted himself. He'd done this to himself, he- had no reason to complain right now. Run. Just keep running.

The route he'd gone down many times before looked roughly the same but after seeing some more major differences he worried. What if parts of the path wouldn't be accessible or just didn't exist? Still, he continued sprinting. Letting his subconscious more so lead him, than his mind did.

He could clearly hear someone behind him. A steady, rhythmic sound. Then he heard a swish. Walker ducked and caught the shield as it came flying back, before it reached Steve again. Judging by the way it had approached, the Captain wouldn't mind to hurt him a little. 

He debated keeping it, when he saw red hair in the corner of his eyes. It felt good to throw a functioning shield again. Even better, that it hit his target.

Chapter Text

Drag him out your window, dragging out the dead

Singing I miss you, snakes and ladders

- A Wolf at the Door, Radiohead

Yelena. Yelena. She was in the Red Room. The Red Room was still operating. She hadn't stopped it. She'd killed Olga. For nothing. Clint and her risked their lives. For nothing. She'd become a hero. Over nothing. 

Yelena.

She pulled Clint by his sleeve and walked up to the window. Her friend fired a grappling hook and the two made their way down. She ignored the worried shouts of her teammates. They arrived just in time to see Steve sprinting into an underground car park.

In the corner of her eye she saw people running away in every direction, screaming. Others just stood, watching. A few of them took photos and videos.

Natasha swung on her motorcycle and drove off immideatly. She could hear Clint doing the same behind her. He didn't catch up immideatly.

She almost grazed a van, as she crossed the street. She cut off multiple cars. It didn't matter. She had to find out where Yelena was. She heard tires screeching and the sound of cars slamming into eachother. She pressed the gas harder. More people were shouting. There was a loud crack behind her.

She arrived at the entry of the building. There was ash around her. After a sharp turn, she could see Steve again. He threw his shield towards the fugitive, who dodged. Natasha sighed relieved. She wanted to scream and tell Steve not to hurt Walker critically but her words died in her throat. He had caught it. He caught the shield, which was thrown at him at full speed by a super soldier. By Captain America. 

He was currently outrunning Captain America. That shouldn't be-... She had to catch him now.

She zoomed past Steve by dodging a few cars and was getting closer. The man was definitely running too fast to be a regular human. Not to mention, that he survived the fall. Maybe she imagined it but Steve seemed to slow down, while the other man seemed to gain more and more speed. Just what was he? Some sort of failed experiment? A god, like Thor? Maybe...the KGB? That had to be it. There was no other way he would know of the Red Room. Of Yelena.

She just drove past the last column and outside of the garage, when Walker threw the shield at her. It landed with precision directly before her front wheel. She jumped off before her bike was hit. Landing hard and with full speed in a group of bushes. She was lucky, that she was even alive. Go on. Get up.

Natasha tried to push herself up but it was useless. When she looked down, she was met with her radius. Her left leg stood at a worrying angle. Clint stopped beside her. No. No! He had to keep driving. He had to catch John. 

Yelena.

"Go away! Drive! Go on! Drive already! Please! Go! Please... You have to..." Her eyes were burning. She wasn't used to letting her emotions get the better of her, anger and grief were meant to be just for herself. Tucked away in the back of her head, not to be displayed. Her vision was blacking out and she slumbed to the ground fully. 

She heard, how Clint got down from his Bike and pulled something from his suit. A cold, metal stick was pressed against her flesh, to stabilize her arm. It hurt like hell. Tears were running down her cheeks and she could taste the salt. It was humiliating. Clint tied the stick around her broken arm with a rope. 

Walker was gone and Yelena's whereabouts with him. She needed to get him...

Clint didn't stumple as she pushed him back with her unaffected arm. "We'll find him." He said instead, before gently helping her up and letting her lean on his shoulder. "We'll destroy the Room for good. I promise." 

She kept crying. Long after Steve had returned empty handed. Long after they briefed Fury on the fugitive. Long after she found out about the crash. Long after she saw the news calling her a careless murderer.

There was no way she would sleep. The events of today plaqued her. The screams she'd ignored. Her sisters smile was devilish, angry but her eyes were cold and dead. 

They wouldn't let her leave the infirmary. Even if she did, she was sure, she wouldn't make it far. She had fight in her but that wouldn't magically fix her arm or leg. Sweat was covering her forehead. She couldnt walk but she'd catch Walker. He would bring her to Yelena. He would help her to end the Red Room. She'd catch him...

Oh, sweet Yelena... I'll be there. She whistled their sweet tunes before dozing off.

He got away from the Captain. Walker wasn't sure if it was the slight headstart, that saved him. Maybe he'd been faster but he doubted it. That couldn't be.

He missed the helmet of his old costume. It would've hid his face, instead he was paranoid now and wanted to jump at every stranger who looked at him too long. Yelena had said he looked stupid. If only he'd prioritised functionality over looking cool, just this once. If only he wouldn't care so much, what others thought of him...

John was still debating on what hideout he should use. The team had made out a few safehouses in case of emergency but he wasn't sure which ones he could use at this time. None of them were stocked and some were still inhabited.

He went through the dates in his head. There were two options which would definitely work. An old warehouse at the edge of the city. It had been empty for twenty years. The only people coming in and out were a few crackhea- addicts. They wouldn't mind him, he thought.

The other one was an apartment in the heart of the city, way closer to the tower. But it was a hideout Yelena praised. So he crowned it the better option. He had never needed to hide before, much less from a team of superheros. Much less the Avengers. He groaned quietly. 

He missed his friends. If only one of them was here right now... John realized, how lonely he was. If he truly was sent to the past- by Bob of all people... what chances did he have, to get back home? What if he would stay here forever? Alone and on the run? He didn't want to loose another family, not again.

John needed to move. He couldn't stay at one place too long. "Hey man, cool Captain America costume! I dig the dark colours." He looked to his left and met the eyes of a young man, around the age he himself had been at this time. "Thank you... appreciate it." He truly did, surprisingly. This was probably the first time someone outside of the team had said something positive about him since two years. The first time in forever someone liked what he did. "Have a good one, man." The young man said, with a salute before continuing to walk to the bar on the side of the street. "Yeah, thanks, you too." He wasn't sure if he'd even heard him.

He went into an alleyway on the other side of the road. While he made his way through the strangely unfamiliar city, he noticed a few clothes laying next to a dumpster. Probably the best he could do. There were no shoes but he put on an old pair of jeans and a green hoodie, which was far too large for him but managed to hide his uniform perfectly.

He felt safer making his way to the apartment but he still took lots of confusing turns before he actually went into the building. After going up an endless amount of stairs, he opened the lock, falling back on some lessons from Yelena and strangely enough, Bob. Sure, he could've broken it open, but then he couldn't lock it as easily later. It was completely bare, except for a kitchen with an uncomfortable amount of cobwebs. Not the first time he'd sleep on the floor.

He'd just rest really quickly and then he'd get food, just a quick nap and then- he dozed off after barricading the door, slumping down directly beside it.

She'd woken up with new clarity and just as much determination. 

Natasha didn't like feeling helpless because she wasn't. The pitiful looks and the people trying to make her feel better through shallow gestures were eating at her. A dark pit which consumed and swallowed her whole. Being vulnerable and injured would get her killed. There was no use for an assassin, who couldn't move.

Clint had finally gone off to his family after she'd gotten him to let her be on her own. She would handle it. That's what she was made for, what she was designed to do. Every waking moment she saw Yelenas face, her laugh, her small hands reaching for her. She could sent someone else to track down the Red Room, to find a widow. But why would she?

Currently, she was making her way down a dark corridor. Just a few moments ago, she'd climbed out of a vent. She was injured but she was still a widow. A few moments later she'd reached a dark car, she pushed it open and climbed inside. Her leg was burning, so was her arm. Whatever, she'd make it work. She sped out of the garage and away from the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, they knew that she was gone now but they would never catch her.

When he went into the shop, he hoped to stay undercover, he'd purposely picked out a small establishment, to meet as few people as possible. If his face was known and being searched for, it would be less dangerous like this. He'd need to get a phone, maybe an old TV or something, to stay updated on his status.

His heart stopped and he almost dropped the toast package in his hand. There was Sam. Sam Wilson. What were the odds, that he was here coincidentally? Did he know Steve already? Was he sent by the team? Were the others here, too?

He had to get out. 

But he didn't. He stood still. It was a risky and frankly stupid action. But he was so glad to see a friendly face. Even if said face might turn out to betray him later on. Actually... 

If the Sokovia Accords hadn't happened yet and... did Steve meet Sam yet? Maybe...

No. That was too risky to try. He quickly went up to the counter and paid for the food in his basket, John pushed some crumbled cash in the hand of the cashier and rushed out. He muttered a polite: "Have a good day, sir." Then the door closed behind him and the little bell chimed. It startled him, like it had done before, when he'd entered the shop.

Immideatly after, the sound repeated. Walker turned around, panic in his eyes. He didn't notice him following.

In the last moment they'd been pulled from action. It saved the life of many men. Hector, Lemar and John were huddled together, carrying an injured Jerome. They were almost back at base, when- 

He didn't notice him following.

The shot hit Jerome. He dropped immideatly. The others let themselves fall to the ground. More shots rang out until the enemy soldier was dead. Walker stared down at him, after delivering a bullet to his head, just in case. 

His eyes weren't filled with hate or anger. Just desperateness and regret. He looked like a doll, his lifeless gaze aimed at something behind Walker. He hadn't seen who he'd been fighting. The young man in front of him couldn't have been older than 19.

Almost a teen. His whole life had been in front of him. John had taken it from him. His future. His ambitions. His goals. 

He turned to look at Jerome, his friend, his family. Hector had thrown himself over him, shaking him, screaming at him to get up. But he didn't. Jerome was gone, just as young, just as unfair. 

But war was never fair. Jerome knew that, he was a soldier. Atleast John kept telling himself, that it was to be expected. Something he couldn't have prevented. He looked at his glossy eyes, the same expression he'd seen just moments ago. They were all the same in death.

John would follow. He was nothing but a machine to be used and cast away, something to be thrown into the crossfire. He wasn't flesh, he wasn't human. He was a tool. 

"Excuse me, are you alright?" 

All Natasha did was for her. She thought she'd saved her little sister. Or maybe that's what she told herself. If she really had done that, why didn't she go looking earlier? Why didn't she try to contact her?

Guilt gnawed at her chest, her face. Why didn't she do anything until now? How could she call herself a hero, if she couldn't save the people most important to her?

Sam looked younger, his eyes were filled with empathy and understanding. Something that hadn't been directed towards John from him before. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm alright... can I help you?" Sam reached out towards him, John flinched back until he realized, that the man was trying to hand him something. He took the card from his hand and let his eyes fly over it. "U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs?" How the hell...?

Sam looked nervous. "If you ever feel like you need to talk to anyone... feel free to join us. There's no need to be ashamed of this. And it's not weak to ask for help." John was speechless. Why did he never know, that Sam had done this? Obviously he knew, that Sam had served but he didn't know he had organised something like this. If he knew how difficult it was... why had he been so weird towards him, when the two met back then? Was John not the right kind of victim? Was he too much, too unnatural?

What was he on about? He wasn't a victim at all. He was the perpetrator. But- if Sam was saying this to him, giving him a chance... John had always wanted a chance from Sam, he'd never really told anyone before but he was actually really impressed by him. About how he could handle his role as Captain America. In some ways, he had reminded John of Michael.

"I'll think about it, thank you, sir...?" The man smiled now, seemingly relieved. "You can call me Sam, and you are?" The man extended his hand and he shook it. "I'm John. Nice to meet you." He felt like a fraud.

The apartment atleast smelled good after he'd finished cooking. Though, that was an overstatement. He'd just put a few baked beans in the microwave and cut an apple. Nothing he'd make for the team at home. It had kind of become a tradition, that he'd cook every other day and they sat together. Now, he ate alone.

He just wanted to go back. When he blinked, he was met with the eyes of Jerome and Lemar. He put the plate to the side and got up to throw up instead. The sink was gross, he stared at it for a long time. He was pathetic. 

How could he call himself a hero, if he couldn't save the people most important to him? He failed his friends, a lot more than once. He failed his parents and his brother, his sister, too. John didn't even know where she lived right now. Why hadn't he thought to reach out until now?

Let alone get in contact with his... ex-wife. He hadn't spoken to his son in a month. The man he had strived to be was far away. A fantasy, that could only take shape in a dream. There was no way Olivia would talk to him. Hell, he didn't even like himself. It didn't feel like he was living at all.

The card felt heavy in his pockets. The next meeting would be tommorow.

Chapter Text

Someone else is going to come and clean it up

Born and raised for the job, someone always does

-A Wolf at the Door, Radiohead

Walker had escaped too easily. After only around 12 minutes, Steve had lost him. Somewhere in the middle of New York the man had vanished. Tony and him had tried to find him but it was useless. Not only was the fugitive gone, Natasha was also injured. 

Steve was more than hung up on the incident. He didn't exactly have the biggest ego but someone outrunning him... That shouldn't be possible. Unless the other person was a god or a supersoldier. Or... well, whatever Banner had done to himself.

So they had been confronted with a person, that was definitely enhanced in some way, knew the Towers layout exactly and vanished immideatly after breaking into a highly advanced facility. On top of that he just happened to know Natasha's super secret sister. 

Fury and the Team had discussed all that went down. "He just... 'showed up'?" The man seemed to be on edge, even before he found out about their little visitor. Steve had the feeling, that something was happening within S.H.I.E.L.D. but he couldn't put his finger on it. It started to drive him insane. "Yes. He did." Tony's ego was seriously bruised. He'd been a total diva the whole time after. Well, more than he already was anyways.

"I assume he is a spy and enhanced, likely KGB." Natasha sat in a chair next to Steve. Fury raised a brow. "Why the KGB?" The room grew even more uncomfortable. To be honest, no one knew how to approach Natasha's sister. "He knew of the Red Room." Fury nodded. "I see."

The KGB made sense, he assumed. But why? Why bother sneaking in on the Avengers with a spy, who seemed to lack stealth and had a lousy way with words? Was he supposed to get caught? Maybe they were trying to test out his abilities? But why jump directly to a mission against the Avengers? Was it a mission gone wrong or a distraction? Maybe something worse was going on behind the scenes.

After the incident he'd travelled back to Washington D.C with Natasha on an order from Fury. It would take a while before he could go on another mission with her. She couldn't walk and one of her arms was broken. Steve saw, how Walker hit her motorcycle. It was definitely not the first time, that the man had thrown a shield. Another thing to add to the long list of worrying things about the strange man.

Clint had gone with them. Even though, he'd wanted to lay low, he didn't want to leave Nat. Steve didn't know how long the two knew eachother but something about the Red Room had alerted him. He massaged his temples. There were too many things going on at once. He had to go for a run.

As he made his way along the Lincoln Memorial Pool, he passed a man on the track. "On your left." He repeated it the second time he passed and the third time finally gained him a reaction. "On my left, uh huh, got it." When he passed the last time, the man turned around and shook his head. "Don't you say it! Don't you say it!" Steve smirked. "On your left."

After finishing his run, he joined the man, who was sitting against a tree and breathed heavily. "Need a medic?" The man looked up and shook his head, an exhausted smile on his face. "I need a new set of lungs, dude. You just ran like 13 miles in 30 minutes." Steve shrugged.

"Guess I got a late start." The man raised his eyebrows. "Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. Should take another lap." His voice was drenched with sarcasm and he looked away for a split second, before expectantly gazing up at him again. "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."

Steve laughed and looked away for a second. It was nice to meet somebody, who wasn't a spy or a superhero. "What unit were you?" "58th Pararescue but now I'm working down at the VA." Steve held out his hand and helped him to stand up. "Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers" Sam nodded. "Kind of put that together." Yeah, guess it wasn't everyday you met a supersoldier. "Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosted thing." He shrugged. "Takes some getting used to." A call rang from his pockets. "It's good to meet you, Sam."

John stared at Sam from across the room, he looked so much younger. His face was less serious, no deep eyebags and it was lacking his restless eyes, which usually jumped around to search for threats. Still, he held himself with the posture of a soldier. It wasn't hard to believe that this man was the future Captain America. That he could handle it.

There was no one else at the meeting yet, John had decided to come in earlier. Partly because it was easier to get to know others this way and partly because he wanted to talk with Sam. Also, there was nothing else to do, aside from sitting around and waiting to get captured, anyway. 

Although Sam didn't particularly love him, John was still glad to see him. He'd never thought he'd think something like this of the man. Not after the conflicts between Sam, Bucky and him. The lawsuit he threw at his team, after they took on a position, that was forced on them in the first place didn't better their relationship. Sam had changed, even though he didn't know him well, he could tell. He was performing for somebody, trying to be someone, that he wasn't. Actually, now, when he looked at him...

There they were. The hateful glare and the sceptical look he was used to seeing on Sam's face. The feelings that are always directed towards him. The distrust, the revulsion.

"How are you feeling? You got here fine?" What...? Right. This wasn't the Sam that almost beat him to death after he killed the terrorist. The person in front of him didn't know him at all. "Yeah, yeah, no, it was all good. I'm all good." The reply was so awkward and jumbled, it could've come from Bob. The other man nodded, seemingly more relaxed, now that the silence between them had been lifted. 

"Where did you serve?" Sam asked after a moment, apparently having debated the question in his head. "Afghanistan. Lots of hostages... terrorists. What about you?" He tried sitting up straighter, to appear more confident but he failed, tilting his head forwards instead, to stare at the ground. "Afghanistan, too. I was a PJ." Oh. That explains the self help group then... he was so disgustingly perfect. Not just a soldier but a pararescue. Maybe he'd never even killed someone before, maybe he didn't even have blood on his hands.

"Oh... that's a though position." His voice was so weak, he hardly heard himself. John wasn't normally such a whimp. He had to snap out of it."Not tougher than being in combat." Oh, he didn't know the half of it. The conditioning. The guilt. The disgust. "Guess so."

"Mornin'." An older man entered the room and softly closed the door behind him. "Oh! You're new. What can I call you?" He walked up and extended his hand towards him. John stood up an shook it. "Walker. John Walker. Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Pleasures all mine, son. The names Todd." After him, other people came in and the room filled up fast. John felt suffocated between the chairs and unfamiliar faces.  

He didn't like being the odd one out or meeting strangers. There had been enough of those showing up at his house after he was discharged, enough of them had terrorised his family.  It took a lot of strength to come here and it still didn't feel right to take help like this. 

The team had tried to make him go to therapy, just as Olivia had. But John didn't need help. There was nothing to talk about. He managed just fine so far. There was no need for some stuck up therapist to tell him how he was supposed to feel. 

He did what he needed to do. And he did it well. He couldn't change what had happened either. Someone had to do the job and Walker was glad it was him. He was glad he could do something- he would give his life for this country. Just like his brother did. He had been a hero. 

John had hoped he would grow up to be like Mike. Now, he was just someone who cleaned up for a woman, who had killed thousands of the people he swore to protect. Maybe if he had died in Afghanistan...

He'd sworn to care for the people outside of the superhero nonsense. People who wanted to live their lives without spontaneously being erased from existence or loosing their lives work because of an attack from outer space.

He'd been raised to be a good man by his father, a man with values, with a purpose. He was a soldier, not a superhero. Not a shallow smile without action. He was a product,  part of the group who "saved" people by killing others carelessly.

He'd never been his own person. He'd always been what he was needed to be. A soldier. A hero. A fraud. 

Inspite of his fears, the others welcomed him warmly, with compassion but not pity. Quickly, he grew more comfortable. He listened to their stories, the pain and suffering that stayed. John had found people that were suffering like he was. But he had done that before already, hadn't he? The Team had been there for him this whole time.

The way Yelena forced him to cook for all of them wasn't so that they had nutritious meals for themselves. It was a purpose for him, a way to better bond with the others. The poker rounds Ava organised were not so she could beat them every time to feed her ego. It was a time for all of them to come together and know, that they weren't alone. The unsolicited advice from Alexei on how to rekindle his relationship with Olivia wasn't to put him down, but to make him realize, that he wasn't the only one facing problems like that. 

Oh, he missed the tower, he missed home. 

One of the women around his age startet talking about an issue, that stuck with John. "It's hard and they still don't understand why I left for that long..." Her voice cracked a bit. "But my... Steven said they're looking forward to the weekends now. I cook for them and we watch a movie. I'm just glad to have them back." Even though her eyes were watery, she wore a smile. He thought of his son, his little laugh and excitement when he came home. There was still time.

If he could find a way back home.

Her name was Eloise, she had a lovely voice, very soft spoken. As she spoke, she played around with her thin, almost golden hair. The others showered her with warm words and congratulations. He did, too. 

 Another members name was Jerome, an older man with sad, dark eyes and a worn out flannel shirt. He was the one to encourage John to share one of his stories.

He told them about his Jerome and about Hector. Told them of their parents' grief and hatred towards him and Lemar. How dishonest their funerals felt. "It just... feels like their blood is on my hands. Like I could've done something to safe them. As if I took them from their families when I was supposed to take care of them." He cringed a bit at saying all that out loud. John had never really told anyone what was going on in his head before, not even Olivia. His hands wanted to move to his sleeves but he stopped them and crossed his arms instead, closing himself off.

The man nodded and waited a moment before starting to add a story of his own. "A friend of mine, Jolene, a real fighter, I lost her in combat, too. It wasn't usual for women to join the army then, but she made her way anyway, to protect our people, to take care of those dear to her. When we went... I promised her family to keep her save and bring her home in one piece." He looked at the ceiling for a moment. "There was a shoot out. It was friendly fire that took her, I cradled her in my arms before continuing to shoot young men I'd never seen before." John watched as the man played around with his hands and the sleeves of his blue flannel.

"I couldn't go to her funeral, I was still serving. Later I... said some things and got dishonorably discharged. When I went to see her grave, surrounded by those of more people just like her, I couldn't take it. Her mother found me freezing at the graveyard. I'll never forget her eyes, such pure disgust..." 

At the end of the meeting, Todd came up to him again. "I just wanted to tell you something, son. This may feel like the end of the world, and in a way it is, I won't deny it. But you don't have to stay this way. There's always lighter days ahead, remember that. Promise me, yeah?" John nodded and the man patted his shoulder. "Stay strong till next week."

The touch made him shudder, it felt like there was metal stuck to the spot he'd touched. After the man turned around, Walker shook slightly but the feeling didnt numb down. What the hell?

When he closed the apartment door behind him, he fell to his knees. He stared at the floor in front of him. 

For a long time, there was nothing. Not the sound of the cars outside. No wind hitting against the windows. No water dripping to the ground. Just him.

Why didn't he just die in Afghanistan?

His last mission was the final confirmation. Something was up within S.H.I.E.L.D and he was sick of being used as a weapon by people, whose intentions he couldn't read. 

He passed the nice dame, who lived next to him, when he made his way back home. There were no further talks today but he didn't mind, he had a lot to think about. Steve was looking forward to an extra hot cup of tea whilst listening to the radio and the rain outside.

He didn't get to that, when he found Fury in his apartment. Everything happened too fast, the shots rang out, he trailed the sniper and he lost him. Why couldn't he just get his job done? Everyone escaped his grasp, were there so many superhumans running around nowadays?

Fury had told him, that someone had eyes on him and planned to kill him, just before he had passed. They had rushed to give him medical attention but it was already too late. On top of that, he found out, that his neighbour was an Agent, so there were hardly any people he'd talked to, that weren't involved with S.H.I.E.L.D in some way. He didn't know who to trust. Maria had vanished, too.

If only Natasha or Clint had been there, anyone with expertise. He didn't want to involve anyone else on the team, who wasn't directly connected to S.H.I.E.L.D. yet. He needed someone to help track him down the assassin, someone he could actually trust, someone under the radar and immideatly available- that was it. 

Steve found him at one of the group meetups the man held for veterans. Sam seemed surprised to see him. "Hey, how are you? Haven't heard from you." Steve smiled, glad to finally see a friendly face. "Not that great, I actually came because I need your help." His voice was hushed and he looked past Sam as he talked. 

His heart dropped when he looked into the room. Why the hell was Walker here?! Okay, just calm down. Make a plan before just crashing the meetup. He positioned himself behind Sam, so that Walker couldn't see him. 

"What's going on?" The man had raised a brow and had leaned against the door. "I'll tell you on the way, we have to hurry." Sam looked confused but determined. "Alright then..."

As they made their way to the others home, Steve had startet plotting for something else, too. "Are they regulars? The people at the meeting, I mean." Sam nodded.

"Yeah, we meet up there every Wednesday and Friday." "I see..." He tapped his watch and sent an alert to Clint and Tony. He didn't know where Natasha, Thor or Banner were, but he needed to create a little team for both of his issues.

When he saw the photo of Sam and his teammate, his eyes were wide. There was apparently even more stuff he had missed out on, while he was in the ice. "That's not what I imagined when you said you were a pilot."

Clint had surprisingly answered his call but Steve guessed it was mostly to find any hint to where Natasha was now. His intentions didn't matter, aslong as they could catch the Winter Soldier, and later on, Walker.

Sam was not prepared for anything that followed Steve's visit. First, they broke into a government facility. That's when he found out, that the leader of a secret organisation had been assassinated- in the apartment of Steve, no less. It's also when he found out that Steve was on the run from said organisation. The man had failed to mention all that to him beforehand but that must've been a mishap. 

Everything came crashing down on him at once. Including the car. It swirled uncontrollably after their attacker had ripped out the wheel. Steve was immideatly on him, while Sam took cover behind one of the vehicles. Shots rang out all around him. Not unfamiliar.

He grabbed his wings and a feeling of relief washed over him as he swung himself into the air. The feeling of weightlessness and freedom filled a hole, which had been ripped open, when he retired. When he lost Riley.

Rushing down, he held onto one of the men and disarmed him mid-air. He had to dodge the bullets that continued to follow him. They were fixed on him. Perfect.

He'd lost Sam and Clint out of his view, Steve hoped the man was alright. He defected another surprisingly strong attack from the masked man before him. Just how many secret super soldiers were there gonna be? 

Atleast he could keep up the fight with this one more evenly. 

There was a dark figure in front of him but he didn't get a close look, before jumping out of the way when a car went up in flames. Sam saw Clint shooting back at men, while Steve pursued the initial attacker. 

Sam startet to remove civilians from the scene while he kept taps on his teammates. Clint had hit the last gunman, just as Sam had sat down a young father and his daughter. "Who are you?" The kid asked, with awe in her eyes. "Doesn't matter now, you all get out of here, alright?" The father put his hand on his shoulder, still shaken up. "Thank you, sir." Sam nodded and took off.

When he returned, he could see, that the mask of the attacker was removed. He got ready to swoop in and help out but stopped when he heard Steve talk. "Bucky...? Bucky, is that you?" There was no way this was happening. He landed next to Clint. "What was his name again?" He nodded towards the figure in black clothes. "He's the Winter Soldier." 

"Oh. Oh, hell no." Clint squinted at him. "What?" Just then, a huge smoke bomb went off, encircling the group. When it calmed down, Sam reached for his phone.

"I have to call John."

Chapter Text

I keep the wolf from the door

But he calls me up, calls me on the phone

Tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up

    -Radiohead, A Wolf at the Door 

He watched the TV of the small coffee shop he'd remained in, after the talk. The building was far away from the tower and his apartment, a small brick house, which had been painted green. Going of the state, that the facade was in, it had been a while since then. There were rusted street lamps and cracked pavement in front of it but he couldn't see any trash laying around. John was pretty sure, that this building was a barber shop in his time, which was kind of a shame. You didn't get a lot of places like this anymore, once that weren't overcrowded and laughably expensive. There were only a handful of people around, mostly drinking their coffee while typing away on their computers.

The TV above the counter was playing the news. A reporter stood before the crater, which John had created through his fall. There were piles of melted metal in the background, that used to be cars. He could see people walking behind the police barrier. It had been two days since he'd made his escape and the side still wasn't cleaned. There were no confirmed numbers, on how many people had lost their lives in the incident. Even so, just one person would have been too much, more life cut short because of him.

The footage then changed into a video, which had clearly been filmed on someone's phone. It was shaky and he could hardly make out what was happening. At first the person filmed the crater, as well as the street, where cars stopped abruptly and crashed into one another. Then a motorbike pulled up. It was Natasha, followed closely by Clint. 

Walker watched in horror, as the woman drove around the cars. Her movement caused more cars to crash. There was an explosion, people were screaming, the phone landed somewhere on the ground. A cut to another video showed Natasha again, her face was cold and determined as she left the scene without looking back. Oh, no... 

"Hero or murderer? Newly discovered footage shows Natasha Romanov, also known as the Avenger 'Black Widow' causing the huge pile-up days prior. We're talking with Amira Glen, who is currently at the scene of the crash. Amira, what is the state-" 

A dozen lenses were aimed at him. Blood covered his shield and hands. Bucky and Sam stared at him in horror. "Captain America should've stayed dead." "John Walker: Murder Trial" "The Bad, the Worse and the Ugly: The Story of Jonathan Walker"

He pulled his eyes away from the screen. John would make it up to Natasha. But she would be fine, wouldn't she? Her PR team consisted of S.H.I.E.L.D, Iron Man and Captain America. She wouldn't fall victim to the same fate.

He stayed behind after the others left. Sam looked at him curiously. "So, how was it?" He shrugged. "Kind of... nice? That's not the right word- I don't..." Sam shook his head lightly. "It's ok, man, I know what you mean." 

So... could he tell Sam? Could he help him home? He definitely couldn't ask the Avengers for help but would telling Sam be beneficial? If a man came up to him after a therapy talk and told him, that he was from the future, he'd call the nuthous- psychiatrists.

But what other options did he have? This was Sam, Walker knew him. Maybe he could say something only he would know, to convince him. 

"Hey, could I talk to you?" His voice was unsure and his hands were restless, he tried to hold them still. "Of course, go ahead." He couldn't help it and played around with his fingers, a nervous tick he had been trying to get rid of for years. He cleared his throat and digged his hands into his jeans to stop them from fooling around.

"It's gonna take a bit longer... do you have the time?" Sam crooked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Sure, you wanna talk somewhere else?" He nodded nervously and prayed, that Sam would believe him.

They walked in silence for a bit. Thankfully it wasn't the uncomfortable kind, atleast John hoped it wasn't for the other man. He wasn't too good at reading people. It always took some time to really understand what others wanted from him.

It was especially hard with Olivia. She mostly communicates without words and always gets- got upset at him, when he didnt catch it. It wasnt like he was trying to misunderstand words or gestures, it just happened more often than not.The army was easier. They just told him what to do directly, no interpretation needed. 

After a while he grew impatient. Just where were they going? Was Sam leading him into a trap? No, he wouldn't do that, right? Not after the meeting. He'd had enough time to get him before and he hadn't. There was no way he was involved with Steve yet, right?

He wanted to jump out of his skin before they'd finally arrived at a green, sort of run down Café. It didn't feel right to just walk around, he had his gun and still wore the suit under his clothes but if the Avengers somehow got eyes on him, he was done for. Having Sam with him gave him some sort of security, even though realistically the man couldn't do much. 

The two made their way to the back of the shop and sat down at a table near the restrooms. When they were face to face, John's hope faded away. What could he possibly say, to make Sam believe him? No one would believe a person, who said they were a timetraveler.

"So, what did you wanna talk about?" This was so bizarre. Whatever, he just needed to jump straight into it. "So, when I said, that I didn't know you..." He paused but Sam didn't say anything. He couldn't read his expression. "Well, truth is I do, I know you pretty well. The only issue is, that I don't know you right now. Because..." Sam looked lost, why did Walker have to be so terrible at explaining? Impulsive and bad with words, a terrible combination. 

"I'm from the future and I was accidently brought here by a teammate of mine. I'm a... superhero." The sentence was so badly worded, he could hardly force the scowl of his face. There was no way in hell Sam would believe him now. Superhero? Come on, now.

"Huh...well, uhm. That's not what I expected of this. Can you, uhm..." He cleared his throat, clearly to stall time. "...prove that somehow, or...?" Sam had no idea how to react to him, his face changed every few seconds and he leaned away from him a bit. Well, great, what was he supposed to do now? He could tell Sam something about himself or show him his powers or-

A loud noise startled the two. The TV in the back of the room startet playing loudly. "We've gotten exclusive information, that an important member of the U.S. Government was sho-" The programm was shut off immideatly. An obnoxiously bright and pixilated "Please stand by!" screen replaced the reporter. The womans face flickered in for a moment again. John was pretty sure she still worked at the station to this day. Oh, yeah... he remembered now, she told her audience, that he was insane and should be locked up.

Well, she'd just given him the perfect opportunity. "I can finish that sentence for you as proof." Sam shrugged, he was more amused than worried now, which calmed John down a little bit.

"The director of S.H.I.E.L.D, his name is Nick Fury, was killed. Atleast that's what he wants everyone to believe. He was shot by an assassin, called the Winter Soldier. He's actually Bucky Barnes, the childhood friend of Steve Rogers and he's mindcontrolled by Hydra, they infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D and-" Sam shook his head lightly and put his hand up a bit to stop John from talking. 

The bell to the shop rang as a man made hid way inside. John jumped a bit, when he heard it.

"Hey... I know, that coping is a long and difficult process and that escaping the real world is a nicer way..." No. NO! He needed Sam to believe him! There was no one else. He was his only hope. Just listen. Just listen! "But please, try to not get submerged too far." The man didn't look like he was making fun of John, he was just compassionate and wanted to help. Which would've been great if John wasn't actually trying to go back to his time, where he wasn't on the run from the Avengers.

He sighed and decided to play along for now. Maybe some developments would lead to Sam actually believing him. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't know what to do with myself." He really hoped, that he didn't make too much of a fool of himself. If he messed up his chance to make Sam like him, it was over. The Avengers would definitely not help him and S.H.I.E.L.D was currently run by Hydra. They'd just use him for their goals instead. Sam was all he had.

The other man nodded. "Hey, how about we just sit here for a while and talk? Just some light conversation." It wasn't exactly what he needed right now but he definitely wouldn't complain. If he could make Sam trust and get to know him, maybe things would fall into place on their own.

"Alright... Thank you, I really appreciate what you do, it really helps others out. You're a good man." Sam smiled and shrugged before taking a sip of his cup. "Well, you do what you can."

Natasha wondered how long it would take for S.H.I.E.L.D to send someone after her and convince her, that she shouldn'tdo this on her own. It would be Clint. Fury wouldn't know better. But he wouldn't find her neither. She was long gone, hidden in one of the spots she used way back. To hide from the Red Room, from Dreykov, before S.H.I.E.L.D. Back when the Avengers weren't even a passing idea.

The room was dim, without windows and only one, weak light directly above her head. It held a cot and the table she was sitting at, plus a few rations of canned food beside the large door to her right. The air was cold and tasted rotten. The state of her hideout made her realize how much time had passed after the Red Room, how long she left Yelena to fight on her own.

There was a map in front of her, in which she'd circled in the places where people had gone missing or died sudden deaths. The Operation wasn't sloppy but maybe one of the cases could lead her to it. She drank a sip of water and groaned when she accidently hit her leg on the side of the table. 

Natasha had already contacted a few people who still owed her a favour. None of them had found anything yet. In some twisted way it was comforting to fall back into old patterns, to stay hidden and sceme behind the scenes, not recognised by the public. Even if she wasn't injured, she couldn't walk anywhere. It was terrible, like everyone was watching her. That's not what she was used to, not how it should be.

Her watch lid up. Hopeful, she opened the message. "No trace. Move to next location." She tapped her fingers on the table. The light over her was flickering lightly and started to give her a headache. She'd really grown soft. 

Natasha took a double take on her watch. It was 11:30.

Slowly, she got up from her chair and stabilized herself on the table. She took the crutch next to her reluctantly and made her way towards the end of the room. The door was only a few centimeters open, when she carefully took the small parcel on the ground. Quickly, she shut it again.

She almost lost her balance on her way back and she stood still for a second. It was like she was a prisoner in her own body.

When she sat down, she took the tablet out of the package and startet to remove the locations of no use to her. 

No use... That wasn't right. Families had lost loved ones in those places, people had passed. Why was she so cold towards them? Natasha thought she'd grown out of this, after leaving behind her old life. She thought she'd become a better person, more human and less of a weapon to be used. She was more than that. 

But was she? Wasn't all she was doing for S.H.I.E.L.D now following missions without asking why she was doing them? How could she know if the wrong people would be hurt in the process? They were in the pile-up. Innocent deaths she'd caused, something she'd sworn to never do again. Not after Olga.

Yelenas eyes were upset, hurt. Waiting. Natasha shook her head. There was no space for self pity or some greater good. Just the mission. Just her sister.

Another peep chimed from her watch. "Possible lead. Engage?" She was about to respond, when another message reached her. "Fury shot." Then another one. "Confirmed dead." First she'd shivered because of the temperature of the room, now it felt as if her skin was being cooked alive. As if worms were making their way through her flesh, tearing her apart from the inside. She threw up. Seconds later she pressed the button without hesitation. "Send available unit to investigate."

John shook his head lightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you with all of this." It wasn't too late yet. Why was he saying this? Sam was capable. He could help him find a way back home. Why was he turning away the only help there was to get? Sam was a good man. One of the best he'd met. There had to be a way to convince him. Tell him something he wouldn't have told anyone yet. Tell him anything.

All of his thoughts went unspoken. John leaned back a bit, freezing up while waiting for something to happen. He didn't know what he was scared of. Sam wouldn't hurt him. "It's alright, I'm not gonna attack you for a human response." Hah. "But please, let's talk without acting like we already know each other." His joke fell flat. The man took a sip of his coffee when he noticed. 

Hector and Jerome. Two peas in a pod. One would've never imagined the two apart, their bickering was a show for the men around. No one was sure why they even served. All they did was complain about it. About how they don't make a difference. How they're killing innocent people. Most of the men didn't wanna bother with all that. 

John knew why they were still here. Lemar did, too. The four of them had formed an unlikely but close bond. Their beliefs often clashed. His bestfriend and him had once thought, that the Army was the ultimate form of justice, that he was carrying out righteous commands to end bad people.

After Jerome's death there was no Hector. He blamed the others for not noticing the soldier earlier, for not taking a shot before. John didn't want to imagine what hatred Hector had held for himself.

He assumed the man would've been upset, seeing John as the new Captain America and Lemar as his sidekick.

Jerome's mother had looked starved, her bones peeked through her sickly pale skin. Her cheeks were fallen in and her eyes bared deep, black rings. Her once shiny hair was thin and frizzy. John couldn't look her in the eye as he stood before the fresh dirt of the grave.

It was hard to watch Bucky slowly regress into the person he was before Sam. Before their friendship. Even though the team provided him a good stability, they couldn't make up for the lack of Bucky's best friend. Still, John couldn't blame Sam for turning his back on Bucky for working with Valentina. She had been responsible for countless deaths and cruel experiments and still was. It was as if Bucky had betrayed his ideals, his past and Sam aswell.

In some twisted way, John was glad that this time it wasn't his fault. That the bad didn't stem from him. 

He was a coward.

John was a either a time traveler or a spy and Sam really hoped it was the first option. He itched to find out more. In his revelation he forgot, that John didn't have any phone, so he would need to wait out until Wednesday, which was way too long. He should tell Steve and Clint about John, maybe he could help them out. The three had taken shelter in one of Clint's and Natasha's safe houses. It wasn't clear, if someone had tailed them after their fight with the Winter Soldier.

"It was Bucky." Steve had been muttering sentences like this one for the past two hours. The other two tried to ignore it at the start but it began to bother them more and more and didn't help the situation they found themselves in at all. Clint had removed his hearing aids somewhere along the way. 

Sam had thought about what to say exactly but after a while he'd given up. There was no good way to tell someone, that he met a supposed time traveler.

"I gotta talk to you about something. Might be connected to our issue." Steve didn't look at him until Clint hit him with his elbow. He signaled for him to go ahead as he put his earpieces back in. "There is a man in the support group that I manage, he just recently joined. And... he told me he was a time traveler- now I know what you're thinking: It's insane to believe that. I'm not denying that it is, I didn't buy the story at first either. But all the things he told me, they're the truth." The others looked at him as I'd he had just thrown up in their faces. "He knew Bucky was the Winter Soldier." 

"What is the man's name?" Steve suddenly sat at the edge of the folding chair, almost making it fall over. "...his name is John, why?" Clint pondered before asking his own question. Even though he held himself with a more reserved posture, Sam could see the urgency in his eyes. "What does he look like?" He was growing weary. Obviously they wouldn't believe John immideatly but handling him like a suspect didn't sit right with him. "Pretty tall, dark hair. Just an average guy, you know." Clint nodded in thought, Steve seemed to grow increasingly more uncomfortable. The tension in the room would make him go insane if he stayed any longer. 

"I'm gonna go looking for him." The others got up, Steve reached for his Shield. "Alone." He closed the door and hurried down the stairs. They would follow him. Better to have a headstart.

John needed to get to his family and save them, make up for his faults. He wasn't sure how to convince them, that it was him but he would. They would recognise him. Wouldn't they?

There was a way he could safe his family, friends and comrades from the suffering their future brought. He just needed to safe the from himself. John stopped. Not everything led back to him, a lot, sure, but not all the misery. Mike's death was the cause of unnecessary war, his mother killed herself after he didn't return. She wasn't comforted by her son being a supposed war hero. 

There were no heroes, there were those who returned and those who didn't. There were those who were never able to be given a funeral, there were empty caskets, weeping parents, siblings left behind. His brother wasn't a hero, he was a victim. John couldn't believe, that he trusted the system after all his loss, after all the pain he saw. He only realized how despicable the system was, when he fell victim to it himself. He'd been a thoughtless puppet.

He shook himself and finally left the café. John missed the small drone outside of his window, as well as the glare from the man to the right corner of the room, which hadn't left him since he got here.

The day after, he was woken up by someone frantically banging on his door.