Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen
Alexandra Simmons.... Agent of SHIELD. Missing in action since 1963, she's given up hope on ever being rescued. Turned into a weapon for the very organization she vowed to end, HYDRA seems to have the upper hand. Until the Avengers that is. Now, Alex must learn to adapt to a new century, a new way of life, and a new team desperate to help her move on from her past. And who knows? Maybe she just might find love along the way. Only, things aren't ever the way they seem, are they?
Steve RogersxOC
SLOW BURN
Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvel Franchise, only my OC Alexandra Simmons
TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, mentions of torture, and other dark themes will be discussed in this book. Please DON'T read if this may be triggering.
***To read more of this story and my other works, please please go to Wattpad and search for my profile, @piecesofhome.****
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Prologue
Everyone has a preconceived idea of what it means to be a superhero. Most think of the grandeur, the fame and fortune that comes with saving the world.
They don't think about the sacrifice. Or the days where you can't get out of bed because you're too caught up in the decisions you shouldn't have made. The lives that were lost along the way.
Truth is, most heroes are broken. They've lost more than any one person should ever have to endure and yet, they persist. For you. And for me. And if they're lucky, they might be able to find small minuscule shreds of happiness along the way, though it's rare. Heroism isn't glamorous.
It's tragic.
But between the tragedy and the happiness are these small seemingly insignificant moments that can change everything. They make you stop, take a minute, and reflect on your choices. How did you end up here?
For Steve Rogers, that moment was when he began to plummet into oblivion from a destroyed Hellicarrier. And when the water washed over him, stealing his breath and darkening his vision, he thought. He thought about his life, about his friend that seemed oh so lost. And he thought about that beautiful woman he left back in 1943. And Steve Rogers welcomed the darkness.
But life was cruel.
With the sound of soft jazz, Steve Rogers was welcomed back into the twenty-first century. He looked to see his friend Sam Wilson next to him, reading a magazine. And yet, he had hoped to see a different friend at his bedside. A fake smile was plastered onto his face, fake happiness in his tone, everything was fake. Steve Rogers had been faking since he came out of the ice. Not that he'd admit it.
"I hope you weren't planning on getting any rest." Sam's face was solemn as he fished a piece of paper from Steve's soaked uniform.
"Your friend? He left you this. The nurse's found it when they were changing you." As Steve's eyes roved over the small slip of paper, his eyes hardened, a hard set making it's way into his jaw. On it, was a set of coordinates, coordinates that would change everything he thought he knew. Underneath, two words. Help Her.
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For Alexandra Simmons, her moment was the day she shook Howard Stark's hand for the first time. That had been the beginning of everything. It had been the beginning of her hell on earth. And now, as she sat chained inside her cell, water dripping from the ceiling above, she silently prayed today would be the day they decided to put her out of her misery.
But this day was merciful.
Gunfire permeated the silence, panic washing over the faces of each scientist outside her cell. Mumblings passed through the room, soon turning to loud shouts and screams. Files and various other papers were shoved into coat pockets, her form being forgotten as they attempted to escape whatever, or whoever, was coming. Clanging bars caused her to look towards the door, rough hands yanking her upwards. Her body was weak, too weak to resist, but this wasn't any normal relocation.
And Alexandra was not a quitter.
Thin hands grabbed ahold of rusted metal, knuckles turning white, teeth gritting in determination as she remained steadfast and unmoving. Her efforts were met with a literal slap to the face, a ring splitting her lip.
And Alexandra smiled.
It was almost sadistic, the grin she let spread across her mouth. The grin eventually developed into full laughter, eyes focused on something behind the man's head. A sickening crunch sounded, a large red stain blooming on the scientist's red coat as a blade was thrust from his chest. A splash of red swept across Alexandra's face, red that for once wasn't hers. Her knees began to shake, vision swimming as she attempted to look at her saviors. But the uniform that greeted her had been retired long ago. It was impossible. Unless it wasn't.
Her recovery had been slow. At first, she spent time in what Steve could only call total catatonia. She was awake. Her eyes were open, fixed on the pristine white ceiling above her head. Banner had said it was trauma, that what she'd been through was easier to cope with if she didn't allow herself to be awake.
Her photo had been compared to missing persons all across the world, the results staggering. They'd expected many things, a grieving family, an innocent woman who had nothing to do with their life. A missing SHIELD agent from the 60's wasn't it. The doctors didn't know how she was even alive. Besides the fact that she was supposed to be in her seventies, the effects of torture were more than obvious. Scars, burns, and various bruises mapped their way across her skin, telling various stories Steve would rather not have to hear. They called it pure determination to live. Tony had called her too stubborn to die. Banner took her blood after the first week to try and figure out what they'd done to her. After a month of her being unresponsive, they'd declared her a lost cause.
Steve Rogers didn't believe in lost causes.
Bucky had proven he was still in there somewhere, still fighting against who he'd been forced to become. And if he could overcome. So could she. So Steve did the only thing he knew how to do. He sat next to her bedside between missions, and simply talked. He went over his most recent missions, the terrible and the good that came with being a superhero.
One day she smiled.
His eyes had widened, grinning as she turned her head to look at him for the first time. She said nothing, but she didn't have to. Progress was being made.
The second month she sat up for the first time. Her muscles were stiff and sore, protesting to the movement. But with his help, she'd persisted.
The third month she'd gotten out of bed for the first time. Her legs had shaken and trembled at the unfamiliar movement. But she was determined. She'd yet to speak, but Steve knew she was listening intently to each word he uttered.
By the fourth month Steve looked forward to his visits with her. The most she'd done was smile at him, her eyes gleaming with joy at every spoken sentence. Until one day when he told her about the battle of New York, how Tony had grabbed a Nuke and carried it through the wormhole to space.
"I knew his father, Howard." Her voice had been rough, broken from going unused, but it was audible. He'd looked at her with such pride that day.
The rest of the team had slowly introduced themselves after that. Her reaction to Thor had been almost childlike, eyes wide, glittering with happiness and laughter. It had blown up his ego far too much. She'd been intimidated by Natasha, the redhead's fiery personality a stark contrast to her current state. Clint's rough exterior had terrified her at first, but the first smile he sent her way made her relax entirely. Tony had been.....well....his usual self, but his antics made her laugh joyously. She and Banner had gotten along quite well, their intellect complimenting each other. And Steve, well, he liked to consider himself her friend. I guess that's where our story begins. A broken agent, a ninety-seven-year-old superhero, and a team of misfits, somehow coming together to bring down the most notoriously evil organization in the world. And it was going to be quite a ride.
