#agent williams

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Wilson scoured the riverbank and found Rogers first, half-drowned but alive. And when you arrived a few minutes later, he’d pointed out a set of boot prints in the mud. They were uneven, the left print deeper than the right, as if the owner had an uneven gait.

Or, more specifically, that his left side was heavier due to a solid metal arm.

“Might wanna cover those up before the cavalry gets here,” Wilson said quietly as he kneeled next to an unconscious Steve Rogers. He didn’t have to tell you twice; you muddled the boot prints with your own, following the trail along the riverbank in a desperate bid to find Bucky at the end. Your luck didn’t hold. You lost track of him within the underbrush and trees, the muddy riverbank becoming soft, leaf-strewn grass.

The rest of the day sped by in a chaotic blur, leaving you little time to reflect. The doctors at the hospital ran a full batch of tests, including MRIs and CAT scans to make sure HYDRA’s torture wouldn’t have any lasting effects. After giving you an intravenous round of saline and antibiotics, they discharged you from the hospital. Instead of going back to your apartment, you waited in the ICU with Wilson for Rogers to wake up.

When he did, he didn’t waste any time in telling you that he knew Bucky was alive. He remembered Bucky reaching down to him and pulling out from the water.

There Steve Rogers was, lying in a hospital bed, and he was more concerned about his friend than himself. You should have never doubted him, never let Rumlow get inside your head even for a moment, but he had. You knew the shame would linger, his betrayal haunting your thoughts, staining your sense of peace for a long time.

But for now, you reached across the bed and clasped Roger’s hand. He looked up at you, surprise in his blue eyes. And then he smiled.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. Your team was gone. Rumlow was, to your great regret, still alive but at least in critical condition and under heavy guard in the hospital burn unit.

Your entire life had fallen to pieces just as surely as those Helicarriers had, but you had to hope that Bucky was still alive. There was no alternative you would accept.

It hurt, though, the knowledge that he didn’t come to you for help. You thought you had gotten through to him, earned his trust. Maybe you had and he simply stayed away in a misguided attempt to keep you safe. That sounded like him, but did you really know Bucky Barnes? Did he even know himself?

You didn’t have a satisfying answer, but you still held out hope that he would appear on your doorstep one day, wishing to see those blue eyes and the way they softened when they met yours.

Your doorstep remained conspicuously absent of his presence.

The days after the Battle at the Triskelion—as it was now being dubbed by the media during the flurry of news stories that followed for weeks—were both easier and harder. Harder, because you had to start over. Easier, because it came with a sense of freedom.

Fury (just Fury, now, no longer Director Fury) hadn’t been killed but it had been a close call. He had allowed HYDRA to believe he was dead so he could help Rogers unhindered, and really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from the former Director. Either way, you told him you were glad he was alive, and with a rare look of amusement he said he had “too much to do to die just yet.”

He even asked you to go to Europe with him to help root out the last vestiges of HYDRA. It was a tempting offer, but you declined, as did Rogers. Fury glanced between the two of you with a twitch of his lips, as if he knew exactly why the two of you were staying. Hell, he probably did know why.

When Tony Stark asked you to come work for him (“I don’t know how you convinced the Winter Soldier to switch sides, but someone who can piss off HYDRA that badly needs to be on my payroll. Free room and board, fastest Wi-Fi in the world—Say, you don’t mind polygraphs, do you?”), you accepted his offer. Rogers had warned you ahead of time that Iron Man himself was going to scoop you up after S.H.I.E.L.D.’s inevitable dissolution. You found the idea of leaving D.C. not as hard as you thought. There was nothing to leave behind but tainted memories.

Being around Rogers, Romanoff, and even Agent Hill made it feel as if you weren’t leaving everything behind. When Wilson said you were a great fit for the team, very loudly, over celebratory drinks, you felt terrified. You felt hope.

Team. Group. Friends. The words were a goddamn minefield after everything that had happened over the past few days, but you swallowed down the fear and anxiety because you had to. The Avengers had the resources you needed if you were ever going to find Bucky again.

And you would find him, you decided. No matter what the results were.

You waited on the closed seat of your toilet, trying not to bounce your leg up and down. Had it been five minutes yet? You checked your phone, brand new because your old one had never been recovered.

One minute to go.

You were a bundle of frazzled nerves, a strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You just wanted to know, one way or another, before you gave yourself an ulcer over possible what-if scenarios. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since your period hadn’t arrived on time. Sure, an irregular cycle coming off of birth control pills was normal, but there was the chance it was due to something else entirely.

At the time, with the impending crisis of the launch, HYDRA revealing itself to the world, and Rumlow’s hideous betrayal, you had had bigger things to worry about.

For the past twenty-four hours, all you had done was worry.

The phone timer chimed next to your head, causing you to jump. You quickly shut it off and rose to your feet. You leaned against the bathroom counter, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. And then you opened them.

One red line. Not pregnant.

The air went out of your lungs and you held yourself up on the edge of the sink. You didn’t know what you were feeling exactly, but there was a lot of it.

Relief? Sure, there was a big helping of that. It was to be expected, but there was also a tiny kernel of disappointment in your chest. Now that was a surprise.

With a troubled frown, you took the test stick and threw it in the trash. It was better this way. You didn’t know Bucky. Not really.

You rubbed the back of your neck, irritated and angry at yourself. It was stupid and desperate and pathetic to be even a little disappointed, wasn’t it? Becoming a single parent was the last thing you needed. Did you even like kids? No idea, since you’d never even thought about having them before.

Yeah, definitely better this way. Now you could focus on your new job, not to mention your covert side mission with Rogers.

As if on cue, your phone dinged. There was only insomniac who would be messaging you at three in the morning, and you wondered how many sandbags he had broken before picking up his phone. Already you were learning the patterns of your teammates.

You lifted your phone and looked at the message on the lock screen.

S. Rogers: Williams, message me back when you get this.

You unlocked your phone and quickly typed out your response.

What’s up?

The phone buzzed half a minute later, letting you know you had an incoming call. You answered it quickly.

“Hi. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Steve’s voice drifted into your ear. It was still strange to think of Captain America as Steve, but you’d have to get used to it at some point.

He sounded alert, untouched by sleep, just as you’d known he would be. What took you by surprise was the background noise drifting over the line. It sounded like he was in a car.

“Nope,” you responded as you walked into the kitchen. You picked up the pregnancy test carton on the counter and stared at the cover. Glared at it, really, as if the cartoon mother and baby on the cover had done you personal injury. “Wide awake.”

“You all packed yet?”

You glanced around the room and sighed at the half-filled cardboard boxes.

“That good, huh?”

“It’s a work in progress,” you said vaguely. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, knowing Steve wasn’t calling you for an update on how far along you were on packing up for the move to Stark Tower. “Are you driving?”

He hesitated long enough to pique your curiosity.

“Yeah, I am. I was hoping I could pull you away for a bit. What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

You were beginning to suspect what the call was about, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Regardless, you made sure your tone was even. One never knew who was listening on unsecured lines. “Probably more packing. Why?”

“Thought maybe you could use a break and come up to New York early. Just for a couple days. Maybe see an old friend. Interested?”

Your heart picked up speed at the phrase ‘old friend.’

“Sure,” you answered with a casualness you didn’t feel. “You can take me on a tour of your old stomping grounds.”

“Great.” His normally stern voice loosened and there was genuine warmth there.

“What time?”

“Uh…” He sounded chagrined. “In about thirty seconds? I just turned down your street.”

You hoped he could hear the sigh you gave through the line. Looked like you were pulling an all-nighter, but there was no way you were going to say no to his offer. Not if it meant what you suspected it did.

“Well, in that case, I get to nap in the car,” you answered with false cheer. “And you’re helping me pack when we get back.”

“I suppose that’s only fair,” he chuckled genuinely. “See you in a minute.”

You hung up but remained in that position, still staring at the empty carton as you reflected on Steve’s call. Someone matching Bucky’s description must have been spotted in New York. Only Romanoff and Wilson knew you and Steve were actively searching for him; not even your new boss was aware of your extracurricular project. With any luck, you would catch up to Bucky before someone else did. HYDRA may be officially gone, but there were plenty of other governmental agencies, both federal and international, who wanted the former Winter Soldier in their custody.

You glanced at the carton one last time and tossed it into the trash, your thoughts already turned toward the future and New York.